Page 73 of True Bastard
“What about the fucking Cajun? Will he play nice?”
Luc growled. “Motherfucker is pussy-whipped, but he’s on board for anything. Got wind of a new club on the East Coast. Dragon something in South Florida. They are near the ports and could give us access to the Atlantic.”
“Reach out to them. Feel them out, then you decide,” Morpheus ordered, then grinned. “If they don’t work out, and Montana doesn’t keep his fucking word, I’ll have New York.”
“The Russians won’t like that.”
Morpheus just looked at Luc. “I don’t give a fuck. Those motherfuckers won’t even look twice at us if the rumors are true.”
Luc nodded, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, I heard about that. The past is biting them in the ass; plus, it seems one of Maxim’s men has waded into Irish waters.”
“Speaking of stupid men, where exactly is your boy?” Morpheus asked, looking around the room as Luc groaned and a few brothers of Disturbed chuckled.
“He’d better stay the fuck off the radar if he knows what’s good for him, because if Reaper gets his hands on him before I do, the fucker is as good as dead.”
“Eventually, wandering dicks will find a hole.” Morpheus smirked. “Too bad for him, his hole is Golden.”
“Don’t fucking remind me,” Luc groaned, running a hand over his jaw, frustration etched deep in his features. The tension in the room was palpable, thick with unspoken threats and uneasy alliances. Despite their bravado, every man knew the stakes were rising, and one wrong move could bring down the whole house of cards. Morpheus’ laughter faded, replaced by a heavy silence as each brother weighed their next step.
“Got a problem, Morpheus. Letting you know now that if the Golden Skulls enter this war with the Death Dogs, Disturbed will back them up. If that happens, I’ll be handing my end of the supply chain to the Wraith Warriors.”
Wanderer stiffened.
Looking down at the table, Morpheus growled, “That’s gonna be a problem, Luc. The Brotherhood has nothing to do with the Wraith Warriors. You know that.”
“Yeah, I do, but blood is thicker than water. You know that better than anyone, and it seems this coming war is all about blood ties and, brother, blood doesn’t lie.”
“The Brotherhood has nothing to do with the Biker Federation. We make our own laws. This war has nothing to do with us.”
“Can’t sit on the sidelines forever, Morpheus. Eventually, you will have to pick a side. My advice is, pick wisely.”
“When I want your fucking advice, I’ll ask for it,” Morpheus snapped. “Anything else to discuss?”
“Nothing that I can think of.”
“Good.” Morpheus slowly stood from his seat. “Let’s fucking party.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Kyllian
The second Disturbed MC rolled into the compound, I found myself sandwiched between Morpheus and Firestride. While one wasn’t happy I was part of the welcoming committee, the other didn’t give a fuck.
As the bikes slowed and the engines died, I stood silent and watched as several brothers and one lone woman slowly got off their bikes.
“Thank fuck,” the woman groaned, arching her back as she removed her helmet. She was stunning, with long black hair and porcelain skin. She was tiny, almost ethereal, but when she turned and looked at me with her sterling silver eyes, I knew with the utmost certainty that she was indeed as deadly as the rumors portrayed her to be. “I’ve needed to take a piss since Rapid City.”
And she had no fucking filter.
A tall, handsome, muscular older man with a shaved head on both sides, highlighting the massive hawk tattoo that wrapped around the back of his head, rolled his eyes at the pretty woman. “Could have taken a piss when we stopped for gas, baby.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” she huffed, shoving her helmet at the glowering man. “I’ve seen carnival porta-potties cleaner than that shithole.”
“Gettin’ fucking bored over here!” Morpheus barked loudly at the guests.
“Fuck off, Morpheus,” the pretty woman snarled, shoving past him as she marched into the clubhouse. No doubt headed toward the nearest bathroom.
Luc, the president of Disturbed MC, groaned as he walked over to shake Morpheus’ hand when my eyes landed on a familiar face. One I hadn’t seen since Birmingham.
