Prologue
KIRK
6 Weeks Ago
My men filter into the room one by one, nodding their heads to me in a show of respect and an element of fear. They chat among themselves while finding a seat and waiting for the meeting to begin. I don’t acknowledge any of them.
This is an important meeting. One I have been keen to have with my men for a while now. What I am about to tell them tonight could change everything for us.
We have done well for ourselves, between our various legal and illegal activities, our cash flow is more than enough for us to live on. With the rumors of our reputation preceding us, no one within a 100-mile radius would think they could overpower us. They know they would end up dead.
The only way to get to the top and ensure you stay there is to be ruthless. Cut down your enemies. Ensure everyone remains loyal to you. The best way to do that is with fear. No one will go against you if they fear you.
When I first established our little, if you can call eighty fully-fledged members little, family, I made sure to do it right. I recruited those with a known criminal history that had skillsets I could utilize. I also offered membership to people I knew from my paramilitary days with the Aryan Nation, and reached out to those who were dishonorably discharged from the military to ensure we had plenty of people who had received armed weapons training and would be beneficial in coercing and intimidating anyone who didn’t fall in line.
With my hand-selected militia, I quickly and brutally cut down anyone who posed a threat to our arrival and takeover of the Oregon area, ensuring any current street gangs either joined with us or disbanded – and were permanently eliminated.
Once we had established our territory, we quickly took over the previous gang’s operations, taking advantage of their already established connections to make our own deals and accrue our own supplies.
We swiftly gained a name for ourselves. The scenes we would leave behind could be described as nothing short of hellish. A bloodbath. Anyone who didn’t submit to us was tortured and left behind, as a message to everyone else, that we were not to be messed with. Go against us and this is what will happen to you, your associates, your family.
There was something about that time, right at the beginning of it all. The heady sensation that came with all that carnage. It made me feel alive. Nothing is better than bathing in the blood of your enemies and demonstrating to everyone around you how fucking ruthless you are.
Don’t get me wrong, there are always deserters, traitors, idiotic people who think they can take us on. There’s still ample opportunity for me to flex my authority, but it doesn’t give me the same high that it used to.
I think that’s why I started thinking about how we could expand and improve our reach. It’s not enough that our little corner of America fears us. I want everyone to fear us. To fear me.
Once everyone is settled in, I raise my hand, officially starting the meeting, and, instantly, the room goes quiet, everyone giving me their full attention.
“Men,” I begin, ensuring I look at each and every one of them individually. These are my people, my men. They are under my command. “I have some exciting news. The last few weeks I have been working on making new connections in uncharted territory for our organization. If all goes well, we will have a secure investment in a new, lucrative business. You will have all the money and pussy you can ever dream of.”
This exclamation causes murmurs to erupt amongst the men. Most of us are high school dropouts, with minimal education and criminal records a mile long. Miscreants. Even those who entered the military don’t have clean records. They wouldn’t be here if they did.
I don’t think anyone in this room ever imagined the future I am creating for us. Hell, before they became members, many of them were homeless or drug-addicts, living paycheck to paycheck, struggling to get through the day.
Now though, as a club, we are thriving. It has taken a long ass time, but we are now the only distributors of untraceable firearms and narcotics in Oregon and Northern California.
Why stop there though? We have cornered this little section of the world. It’s time we start thinking bigger.
Unfortunately, it won’t be an easy goal to achieve.
Already, I have had to pander to the whims of others, all to ensure appropriate identities and allegiances are forged in order to project the appropriate image that I need to meet my goal.
My hard work is paying off though. I am currently in the process of guaranteeing I have important businessmen and state officials in my pocket, along with the loyalty of the most ruthless men in America and, soon, the backing of the richest of the rich in the country.
“We are used to working in the shadows, shaking hands on backroom deals, and avoiding any confrontation with the law. For this, we will have to operate differently; smarter. We will have to cozy up to those that enforce the laws of this country, make connections with those that could care less about us scum down here in the dirt. We will have to leave behind our identities, and wear sheep’s clothing so we can walk amongst the upper class of society as though we belong. But I can guarantee you, men, that when we succeed, the reward will be worth the sacrifice.”
After ironing out the details and receiving celebratory claps on the back from my men, I am finally left alone in my office, enabling me to revel in the satisfaction of knowing my hard work will soon pay off. Soon everyone will know who we are. Our names will be said in hushed whispers, everyone too afraid to give a voice to their nightmares, for fear they would suddenly appear before them as though summoned.
People will piss themselves at the mere mention of the name Kirk Jones, my name; and God-fucking-damn if that doesn’t sound better than my wildest fucking fantasy.
Chapter 1
SOPHIE
The clock on the wall behind the bar tells me it’s 2 am as I run my cloth over the counter top one final time, before grabbing my bag and locking up behind me on my way out the door. I’m late leaving tonight, as most nights, because my boss knocked off early.
Thankfully the fresh air outside wakes me up a bit as I start the walk back home, pushing away the exhaustion that has been working its way through my body and making my eyelids gritty for the last few hours.
Knowing I have to be at work in the café in four hours for the breakfast rush isn’t helping with the tiredness, but a girls gotta do what a girls gotta do, to get by. It’s not like working two jobs while going to school full time is anything new to me; you just never seem to adjust to the chronic feeling of fatigue. It’s on days like this, when I’m beyond exhausted, that I feel closer to forty than seventeen, but I have to do whatever I can to help my mum out, to ensure we can pay rent and bills, and feed ourselves.
Our life is one of survival, of scraping by with the bare essentials and nothing more. Some days I struggle to remember what life is all about, why we keep trudging on, but then my mum has a good day where she smiles and laughs and makes everything feel right in the world. It’s on those days that I remember exactly why we get up each day and continue the fight to remain alive.
My mum has had mental health problems my entire life, resulting in a plethora of diagnoses from bipolar disorder to depression, meaning it’s always been a struggle for her to maintain a stable source of income. Unfortunately, things have gotten worse as time has gone on, with her having fewer good days. Instead, it feels like every day recently she is either a shell of herself, remaining in bed all day, practically catatonic, or she’s an emotional mess getting upset or angry over the slightest thing, often throwing things across the room and destroying what little furniture we have.