Page 43 of Clash
Joaquin chuckled. “Oh, don’t worry, I have no interest in the Prez’s Ol’ Lady.”
“So, what happens now?” I asked, looking around the room.
Snyder’s gaze swept over the room before finally meeting my hard glare. “We rebuild. We reorganize. We grow.”
“And what if the Crows come after us?” Wasp questioned.
“Then we take them down. But my goal is to turn the head of this club in a different direction, one that doesn’t give the Lewd Outlaws such a sour name.”
“Amen to that!” Poison shouted, holding up a beer. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m sick of our tainted name. I’m ready to ride into a new era, one where mayhem and carnage doesn’t follow us at every bend.” He placed a beer in each of our hands and held his up to the sky.
“Let’s drink for all our fallen brothers and sisters. The ones that lost their lives far too soon. Let’s drink for our family, and this cut we proudly wear on her backs, but most of all, let’s drink to living life as an Outlaw. We ride through life one road at a time and have each other’s backs until the day we die!”
“I’ll drink to that!” Snyder exclaimed, downing his beer. “And I’ll drink for my men, may you all fall like I have, finding the person who completes every part of you, and makes you want to be a better man.”
Yeah, I’m not drinking to that shit.
“Eww, that’s never going to happen to me. There’s not a woman in this world that can handle a man like me, and I’d like to keep it that way. The single life suits me,” I lied, knowingdamn well there was one fucking woman out there that could tie me down without ever trying.
All I had to do was find her…
When Snyder went in for a kiss, I bounced, too consumed with hatred and animosity to put up with their bullshit a second longer.
There was something about the open road that calmed me. The feeling of the concrete rushing by as the wind whips over your body, and the freedom of the road before you, knowing that you can go where you want and no one can force you to stay locked in a cage, was something I thirsted for.
It’s why I loved riding my bike. Cars and trucks felt more confined—suffocating almost. Even when I was learning to drive, I hated them. I remember the first time I ever saw someone riding a bike, how carefree and wild they looked as they raced down the road. I longed for that feeling, scraping every damn penny I had together until I could buy one of my own. That first bike I’ll never forget. I named her Vixen, because she reminded me of a slick reindeer with her brown finish with a singular white spot on the gas tank, and long ape hangers that reminded me of antlers. God, I loved that fucking bike, but eventually I outgrew it, settling for my sleek Black Mamba that I now rode every day. Harleys just handle the road better.
I never meant to join a motorcycle club, it just happened by accident. I was riding by myself, minding my own business, when a group of bikers surrounded me, forcing me to pull over. One of them asked me why I was riding alone, and I told them that I never had anyone that knew how to ride that could go with me. Next thing I knew, Leppard had taken me under his wing, bringing me on as a prospect for the Lewd Outlaws MC. Had I known how much trouble I’d get into by joining it, I would’ve just walked away and never looked back.
Now I was in too deep. Murder and mayhem were a constant staple in my life. One I accepted with open arms. Being bad just came natural to me—killing came even easier. Fortunately, I’ve only ever killed three men—the one who raped my mother, and the ones who crossed our club. I didn’t really count the people who died in the fire, the mass genocide was brought on by Sabbath’s trigger finger, not mine. But the other two—the men who were asleep in their beds—the ones who had no idea what was coming, their blood coated my hands. It was what I had to do for my club.
But my loyalty to them was wavering.Why the hell should I be loyal to them, when they’ve done nothing for me?
I turned onto a desolate road, ready to hit the hammer and enjoy the freedom riding brought to me, but life had different plans. I didn’t even see the car until it was too late, smashing into the back of my tire and sending my body hurtling in the air, crashing into the hard concrete below.
The angry surface scratched at my skin, shaving off a good layer or two before I finally came to a stop a few feet away from my bike.
Groaning, I attempted to get up off the ground, but every part of me was in protest, too weak from the accident to get my wits about me.
A heavy boot connected with my side, pushing me over until I was staring up into the seething face of Officer Hadley.
“YOU MOTHERFUCKER!” he roared, kicking me again. “You fucking stole my money!” Spit coated my face as he hocked a loogie at me, the disgusting phlegm sticking to my cheek.
Fuck! How the hell am I going to get myself out of this one?I was in the middle of nowhere, and Hadley was driving his private rig… this was fucking personal.
“It wasn’t your money to take,” I growled, huffing out a deep breath as I tried to fight for air in my lungs.
The metal barrel of a gun dug into my chin, pressing deep into my throat until his feral eyes were drilling into me, begging for me to say something else.
“Nobody can save your ass out here, Chuckie Boy. It’s about time you got what was coming to you.”
Death. It was far too soon, and yet it was here, biding time while I waited for Hadley to pull the trigger.
“You took money that wasn’t yours, Hadley. I just took it back.”
“Where the fuck is my money, Chuck?”
“It wasn’t yours! It belonged to her. Call me Robin Hood, Hadley, but I’m sure as hell not going to let you get away with taking from the poor just so your rich sorry ass can get his poor excuse of a cock sucked by a prostitute. It’s no wonder Addie was never satisfied, your micro penis wouldn’t satisfy a pigeon, let alone a decent woman. Could she even feel you inside of her? Or did she pretend like all the others?”
