With a disappointed sigh, I decide on a long, hot soak in the tub before I do some detective work. It should keep me busy enough, along with a call to my mom. The poor woman is kept out of the loop without my updates. It’s cruel of my father, but he swears it’s for my mother’s own good. He doesn’t want to worry her and stress her out when a lead turns to nothing. I get it; however, I don’t agree with him, so I call her with details, and she pretends to be clueless around my father. She loves him enough to act like she’s going along with his wishes, but she’s always kept up to speed. Madison and I get our rebellious streak from her, and stubborn women like us always find a way to get what we want.
Chapter 3
Hell is empty and all the
devils are here.
- William Shakespeare
“Everything cherry at BJ’s?” I ask as Powerhouse plants his ass next to me. I’m drinking a beer out back behind the club, chilling in the silence. I’ve got a small fire going in the pit before us—perfect on a chilly night like tonight. We’ve got some stumps and lawn chairs strewn about for the brothers, and whoever else may be around. Some nights we’ll come out here to shoot the shit around a fire. It’s relaxing, especially if you’re hungover.
“Yeah, all good, Prez.”
The owner pays us to help out with any issues he may have. Powerhouse throws his bulk around once a week to put a little fear into the customers messing with the strippers. He’d be there watching them dance regardless, so he may as well make some cash while doing it. Rarely do we all need to be there busting heads, but occasionally, we all show up to make our presence known. The owner doesn’t mind if we invite the strippers back to the MC for a private performance, either. It gives the females a chance to make some extra fedia, and in return, they stay working for his wrinkly perverted ass longer.
“You were there a lot this week,” I mention. All the brothers noticed—not just me. I don’t want him to grow too attached to the strippers. He’s fixated on watching them whenever he can. “You have a favorite or something?”
“There were a few new guys; some suits that I was keeping an eye on. They were too clean-cut to be in there. I wasn’t sure if they were gonna fuck up one of the dancers.”
“Ah. You find out who the fuck they are? Were they selling anything or peddling in flesh?”
He shakes his head. “They kept to themselves, didn’t bother anyone. Maybe, since it’s not far from the airport, they were looking for easy pussy.”
I rub my face, not thinking too hard on it. “Should’ve had the girls grab their wallets. Could’ve gotten paid and had their names.”
A devilish grin pulls at his lips. “I didn’t feel like burying the bodies, or I would’ve.”
A chuckle leaves me as I shake my head. He’s a crazy fucker, and I don’t doubt it for a minute that he’s telling the truth. “Speaking of getting paid, that sale I was waiting on came through. Plague and Whiskey went out to meet our supplier and brought in some more powder. On the way home, they met with our big buyer and was able to get rid of a chunk they had on hand.”
He whistles through his teeth, before commenting. “A kilo and a half, right? Same as last time? A twenty-one-k payday?”
“We cut him a deal and came home with eighteen profit.”
“Nice.”
“As always, Whiskey and Plague will take a higher cut since they risked their necks on pickup and drop off, but we’ll still see some cheddar.”
“That’s what’s up,” he nods, cracking his knuckles and rolling his shoulders.
“We’ve got two weeks until another drop comes through, but I’ll hit you up to see if you want in. Plague wants the cash, but he knows the rules—we offer the option to another brother first since he had last dibs. We’ll discuss it in church next week. Make sure you hit up the strippers with baggies—a few of them been texting me about wanting to buy. I told them you’d come around when we got more in.”
“I can do that, but I’ll pass on the next exchange if someone else wants it. I’ve got a fight booked, so I have extra cash coming in.”
“Sweet! Out at Hell Hole?”
He nods. The Hell Hole is an old biker bar out in bum fuck Egypt. It was built to surround an outside patio, but when the place started going to shit, they turned it into an outdoor fighting ring. It’s reserved for MCs only and a decent place to make some money through personal bets. The owner’s a lazy fuck and rarely opens anymore unless he has a fight in the works. It’s a neutral ground where we all wear our colors and don’t start shit with anybody unless we’re willing to take it to the ring. The availability to bash someone’s face in tends to keep the peace. Shit, I’ve been there when clubs have gone head to head and beat the shit out of each other one after the other. It makes for some good entertainment and contacts.
“You know who you’re fighting?”
“Skull Cracker from Lost Saints.”
My brows shoot up. “Thought you were cool with him.”
“I am, but he threw out my name, and I responded.”
“So, you’ll be concentrating on training more?” That’s another thing Powerhouse does all the time; the dude’s way into fitness. We have a shelf full of shaker cups in his honor. The guy is always chugging something with protein in it.
He nods. “That a problem?”
“Not at all. I’m looking forward to watching you beat some ass.”
He chuckles. “That you can count on.”
“You hookup with anybody last week?” I ask, referencing the night he went and brought a truckload of strippers back for private entertainment.
He shrugs. “I got an eye on one of ‘em. Not the one who was on your lap, though.”
I shoot him a cocky smile. “Maddy’s good at sucking my cock.”
“I figured. She’s been here every night since then,” he points out, brow raised.
We hear moans coming from Blow’s room. He’s got his window open but blinds down. It sounds like he’s going to town, too, and not holding back on her.
“Not only for me, man; she’s been cozying up to Blow.” I nod toward the open window and clear sounds of fucking. “I’m guessing they think I’m blind to her making heart eyes his way and shit. Not like he’s being too careful about it; this shit happens a couple times a day. He may have a pretty face that bitches love, but my cock’s still bigger.”
He releases a hefty laugh and nods. “True that.” We’d had a dick measuring contest one night when the shit-talking got out of hand. It’s wasn’t only a bunch of dudes and dicks, either. There were chicks present doing the measuring. Just another crazy night at the MC. Anyhow, it’s been noted that I’m well-endowed—more so than any other motherfucker here. Hence my name, Ripper. It’s not for removing heads; it’s for tearing up pussy—one of my favorite things to do.
I shrug. “Wouldn’t be surprised if she’s making rounds. Bitches love an outlaw in their bed. Something about the danger of us keeps ‘em coming back for more. I rarely catch their names anymore. As far as I’m concerned, they’re around here to get my dick wet…nothing more.”