Page 58 of Vicious

“Then why send everyone else?”

“Club wants proof.”

“Proof of what?”

“That you can complete a task. I gave you a task before. It wasn’t fulfilled. This is now your task.”

“Then why was I branded? Why has the club been helping me?”

Montana said nothing as his eyes darted to Fury.

I understood. Fuck. It all made sense now. Fury was the biological father of the girls. Linsey was their aunt. Their caregiver. To protect the girls, they had to protect Linsey. I knew Montana long enough to know that failure to complete a task didn’t mean everything was good.

“Fail to complete the task and… Fuck, Vicious. Just don’t fail, okay?”

He didn’t have to explain. I knew what he was trying to say. Montana Stone may be one of my oldest and closest friends, but he was also the President of the biggest Motorcycle Club in the United States. Failure was not an option in his eyes. I failed, I died. His wordless meaning was crystal clear.

“My woman and daughter?” I muttered, picking up a Glock. I released the clip, seeing it fully loaded.

“I’ll take care of them personally. I give you my word.”

Nodding, I said nothing more as I prepared for what I needed to do. It was one thing knowing I was about to walk into hell with my brothers at my back, but to go it alone was altogether something different. I mentally prepared myself for what I was about to do. I didn’t doubt myself. I’d do anything to protect Linsey and the girls. That was a given. It was the knowledge that my brothers would be there, but would not help if shit went sideways.

Grabbing more ammunition and a few knives, I took what I needed, as Montana shouted, “Soulless Sinners! We ride in five!”

Brothers gathered the last remaining items they needed before heading out of the clubhouse. Walking with Montana, I stopped when I saw seven nondescript black Harley Davidson Low Riders. Looking for my bike, I noticed it was nowhere to be found.

“There’s a difference between the Soulless Sinners motorcycle club and a real Soulless Sinner. Tonight, you will understand what it really means to be a Soulless Sinner. You will hear brothers in the club speculate, talk and gossip about the real Soulless Sinner, but only those on the board know the truth. A Soulless Sinner isn’t just a single man. To be a real sinner, you must rip away everything you thought you knew about yourself. You must kill what’s left of your soul. You do that and you will be a true Soulless Sinner. Got me?”

“I got ya,” I nodded, as Montana walked towards the bikes. Looking at the men waiting, each dressed in all black, from the tips of their boots to the helmets on their heads, nothing remained of the men I knew. What was before me were six soulless men who had no soul.

Noticing the lead bike was riderless, I walked over to it, threw my leg over the seat and sat. Starting the bike, I put on the helmet provided and secured it, hearing Montana’s voice in my head.

“Alright Vicious. Head to Trump Tower. Alex and Sarah Galveston are staying in the penthouse on the fifty-fourth floor, on the west side. The latest intel states that both are there and have ordered room service. The food should arrive in forty minutes.”

“Jesus Montana. It’s gonna take at least forty minutes to get there,” I moaned.

“Then you better move it.”

Silently cursing, I revved the engine and peeled out of the compound with six soulless riders behind me. Weaving in and out of traffic, I tried to keep my mind on the task at hand, but my mind kept wandering back to Linsey, Elizabeth and the little ones. In a few short months, my life went from living a solitary existence to being full of love, laughter, and pink bows. My daughter was glowing with joy. My woman made my heart sing with desire and three little girls weaved their way into my heart. My life was full of the life I never knew existed. Since I was sixteen and walked away from the only life I knew, I’d been on my own. I thought I was happy, but I wasn’t. I was only existing. Living a half-life. I couldn’t imagine my life without my girls. That thought alone tore at something deep, the pain unimaginable. No. I couldn’t lose them now that I had them. I’d kill anyone who dared try. So yes. I would kill to protect them.

They were mine.

Mine to protect.

Montana interrupted my thoughts when I heard him order, “Pull in near the loading dock around back.” Doing as he directed, I slowed the bike as Montana and the others rolled past me, parking near the west side. Following, I cut my engine as the brothers all got off their bikes. We’d just turned when a kid, no older than sixteen, maybe seventeen, ran over to us. Dressed in a standard janitorial uniform, the kid skidded to a stop. “They’re still here,” he huffed, handing Montana a keycard. Montana passed it to me, then reached inside his black leather jacket, producing a thick yellow envelope.

Before handing it to the kid, Montana growled, “You need more. You call the clubhouse. Understand Ricky?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now go home. You suddenly came down with the flu.”

The kid fake coughed. “Yeah, I ain’t feeling so well. Bye.”

Watching the kid run off, I took the lead and headed for the loading dock. It was still early and though deliveries were being made, everyone who saw us turned the other way. I knew they wouldn’t be able to identify us. We were all dressed in black, still wearing our helmets. As I approached the door, it was flung open.

“The servant’s elevator is yours for the next twenty minutes.”

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