F*ck Me

Fuck me, she is fucking hot.

It’s been three fucking days since that hot piece of ass walked through the club’s door, which means I’ve had a hard-on for three fucking days. And fuck, she just keeps getting hotter every time I see her. It’s pissing me the fuck off.

Violet walks across the bar, and like the rest of her family, she doesn’t show much, just that cold face of hers. It’s like a fucking gene the three of them have. The only difference is that Violet wears her cold mask 24/7.

Devil immediately warned the brothers not to “fucking touch, taste, smell, or look” at his little sister, but I already know most of them are struggling to follow that order. The Souleaters have noticed the attention she’s getting, and like the bitches they are, they’re out looking for drama.

“How long are you staying?” Candy asks Violet as she walks past, stepping in front of her so she can’t walk away.

Violet looks at the bitch, a flash of disgust in her eyes, though she keeps her face otherwise neutral.

“None of your business, now is it?” Violet replies. She steps forward like there’s no one in her way and keeps walking.

One thing I’ve noticed about Violet, not that I’m watching her or anything, is that she really couldn’t care less about anything. It makes me wonder about her past. I know Devil and Chaos wonder the same. You can see it in their eyes when they look at her.

One of the things I’ve learned from always watching from the sidelines is how to read people. It helps a lot in my kind of work, and I’ve perfected the skill over the years.

“Killer.”

I turn around and see our Sergeant-at-Arms leaning against the bar. “What do you want?” I grunt.

“We got a meeting with Pierce.”

Finally, something to do.

I get up from the leather couch I’ve been sitting on and jerk my chin toward Wilhelm and Jaxon. Jaxon’s our Enforcer... a tough son of a bitch. Wilhelm is our Road Captain also a tough son of a bitch.

Jaxon hardly talks. He’s a psycho kind of son of a bitch. Like me, he prefers staying on the sidelines. People, even most of the brothers, tend to avoid him.

Wilhelm, on the other hand, is our bartender on the side. The happy-go-lucky kind of son of a bitch. Devil tried to hire other bartenders in the beginning, but Wilhelm always drove them away. I remember him telling us, back when he was a prospect, that his family used to own a bar and that bartending makes him feel at home. After that, Devil stopped looking and let his Road Captain do whatever the hell he wanted.

And then there’s Iren, the easygoing but cold motherfucker. Loyal to the core. Brutal to anyone who tries to harm the club. He never knows when to shut up, though. Always testing people’s limits, which is why he’s been punched in the face more times than I can count.

“We got a meeting,” I tell Jaxon and Wilhelm before heading outside. It’s hot as hell in the desert, and I really want to get on my bike and get some shit done. I’ve been still too long. When I sit still too long, I get agitated. When I get agitated, people die... or come close to it.

I mount my bike and watch Iren, Jaxon, and Wilhelm do the same.

“Let’s go.”

......

I take a seat across from Pierce. Wilhelm, Jaxon, and Iren stand behind me, “protecting” me in case shit goes south. Pierce has a similar setup... three bulky dudes in suits standing behind him.

“Someone raided another run yesterday.” Pierce picks up a crystal glass from the table and starts mixing a drink. If you didn’t know him, he’d seem calm, but I know the fucker. He’s on edge, ready to explode at any moment. “I’ve lost thousands of dollars with that little raid. And let’s not forget the other raids over the last few weeks.”

“We’re working on it,” I tell him. And we are. Sherlock, our computer guy, has been digging into the raids... scanning highway cameras, pulling plates from cars in the area during the hits, and trying to figure out who’s got the balls to rob not just a big fucking MC, but also the biggest drug lord ruling most of Nevada.

“And yet this is the fourth time someone’s fucking raided my runs? I made a deal with you to protect the runs. You think I’m a fucking idiot? Are you fuckers robbing me?”

Pierce looks ready to put a bullet between my eyes.

I’m ready to put one between his if he keeps talking to me like that. He’s known for his short temper, mood swings, and impulsive bullshit.

Fucking deals. I told Devil this was a bad idea from the start, but of course, why listen to your VP once in a while?

Devil had gotten bored with the strip clubs, bars, garage, and p**n business scattered around Nevada and wanted to dive into drugs. We’d done drug runs back in the early days of the club, but quit when the heat got too bad.

A club like ours runs better independently... no outsiders. But Devil had other ideas.

“We’re not fucking robbing you, Pierce. One of my runners was killed in the first raid. One of my brothers. We’re looking into it.” I keep my voice low and controlled.

I didn’t really know Mad, the guy who died in the first raid. Dead on arrival... his head crushed when his bike crashed. He flew forward and got smashed under the tire of the drug van. The truck ran over his head, and from what I’ve heard, it wasn’t a pretty sight.

“Work it out, Killer. I like you guys. Don’t make me eliminate you and your fucking club.”

Pierce downs the rest of his drink, gets up, and walks out of the private room.

“Fucker,” Jaxon hisses through his teeth.

“Let’s get the fuck outta here,” Wilhelm mutters.

I stand, grab the bottle of rum from the table, and take a huge gulp.

“Let’s go.”

We walk out of the fancy-ass restaurant, making people glance up in fear... and then quickly look away. With long strides, I head to my bike. Without waiting for anyone, I ride off.