Page 180 of Golden Atonement

Grudge was a beast of a man. Standing well over six and a half feet tall, with tattoos covering damn near every inch of his body. The man was more muscle than smile. With his shaggy dark hair and cold, dead brown eyes, the man looked like he’drather be anywhere but here. It was that bored expression that looked remarkably familiar to me. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was...

“Listen up and pay fuckin’ attention. This ain’t New York. We do shit differently down here in the Old South, so let me lay it out for you. Mind your fucking manners. If you think my boys are rough, you ain’t never seen a Southern woman on a hair trigger. Don’t fuck with them, because if you do, my brothers won’t think twice before layin’ your asses flat. And another thing and this one’s important, it’s college football season down here and we take that shit seriously. So, for the love of God, while you’re here you are all now Alabama fans... Roll Tide. I’m not lookin’ to start another fucking Civil War down here. Got me?”

Maxim and Vladmir looked at each other, while I chuckled and stated, “I’m more of a Tennessee Vols fan myself.”

“You sum’-bitch,” Grudge growled, and Montana jumped in front of the large angry biker. Montana was a big man himself, but even he was having trouble controlling Grudge.

“Goddammit, Reaper,” Montana sneered. “You ever heard of the saying, when in fucking Rome, asshole?”

Ignoring Montana, I walked off whistling and singing, “Never been to Rome, but I have been to Tennessee. Wish I was on ol’ rocky top, down in the Tennessee hills...”

“He’s dead,” Grudge seethed, fighting Montana’s hold.

“You can kill him after we find our kids.”

The Alabama Chapter of the Soulless Sinners was exactly what I expected. Another warehouse that was converted into a clubhouse, strategically situated for maximum advantage and, like the Mother Chapter in New York, the compound was heavily guarded.

Stepping out of the rental car, I noticed that every Alabama Soulless Sinner stopped and stared at me. Unlike the main chapter in New York, this club was different. There wassomething off about this club. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but this chapter was no ordinary Soulless Sinner club. This chapter was more, and by the way Montana’s shady ass was acting, I knew I was right.

This club was hiding something big.

“Looks like your jovial personality has reached worldwide, Reaper.”

“Whatever,” I snarked, walking through the front doors of the clubhouse like I owned the place because my gut was telling me I would and really fucking soon.

“The kids are being held here,” Terror, the Sergeant at Arms of the Alabama Chapter of the Soulless Sinners, said, pointing to a spot on the map. The man was enormous, like Grudge. In fact, most of the brothers were. “Sent the prospect to scout the place. Lucky sum’-bitch even managed to sneak his ass inside and do his thing. He sent us this right before you arrived.”

Clicking on a remote, I watched the black screen flicker blue as a grainy black and white feed appeared on the screen. There, in the middle of the room, were Little Max and York, sitting on the floor on either side of Katiya, who silently cried.

“Where the fuck is the prospect now?” Grudge asked angrily.

“Where the fuck you think?” Terror snarked. “Fucker’s hiding in the damn attic. He’s got eyes on those kids and ain’t leavin.’ Even threatened to beat his ass, but the lucky fucker ain’t budgin’.”

“Excuse me, gentleman,” Maxim spoke up, interrupting them. “Explain to me why, if your man has access to our kids, he doesn’t just get them out of there?”

“Because of this,” Misery, the Vice President of the Alabama Chapter, said, taking the remote and pressing another button as the screen changed to show at least fifty Satan’s Angels walking the outside perimeter of the clubhouse. “And that’s just the outside. Inside, there’s at least twenty more.”

That lying, two-faced slimy motherfucker!

I growled, shaking my head as the room went deathly quiet. Glaring at Montana, I seethed, radiating anger. “You lying motherfucker. You didn’t do shit, did you?”

The tension in the room exploded. No one moved.

“You have one of the biggest fucking motorcycle clubs in the world and you couldn’t even uphold your end of a marker.”

Montana sat there and said nothing.

He couldn’t. He knew I was right.

“Is that why I got the cold-shoulder welcome? Because as the President of a club myself, I should have received the respect I am due. So, explain it to me, Montana. You swore a blood oath to me. You vowed to protect my woman because you wanted in on taking down theSociety. I had it all in hand, but that wasn’t good enough, was it? You couldn’t let my minuscule club, by your standards, show you up. Was that it? Was my club that big of a threat to you and yours? Or was it because if I succeeded on my own, the table would take a closer look at you and that was something you didn’t want?”

Montana kept quiet while I eerily and calmly continued, “It doesn’t matter. You don’t have to answer that. We both already know the answer and you know what biker law demands. So, tell me, Montana. Which club?”

“Don’t threaten me, asshole,” Montana sneered.

“Either you choose, or I will.”

“Clear the motherfucking room. NOW!” Montana roared, his eyes glued to mine. If this motherfucker wanted a fucking showdown, then I would happily oblige.

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