Page 4 of Malice and Surrender
It shocked me every day that his old lady, Naomi, stayed with him. What she saw in him, I could never say. He certainly wasn’t worth the effort she put into getting him clean after the shit he pulled. Then again, I guess that was the crazy you chose when you got yourself knocked up. Personal opinion, she would be better off raising that baby alone. Hell, even crazy-ass Ava would’ve been a better choice than Chase Mathers. That girl was no coward. Strange and off her rocker for sure, but no coward.
“You do know that at some point you’re going to have to accept that Mathers is our Prez and show some respect, or you’ll be out on your ass,” Beast drawled in that lazy fatherly voice he put on whenever he thought one of us was saying something stupid. The bottle hissed as he popped the top off and settled back in the chair across from me like he was my motherfucking therapist.
I didn’t need a therapist. Okay, that was a lie. I probably needed a therapist, but I didn’t want to fix what was wrong with me. My wrong had me smiling wide as I slit someone’s throat open. It was what had kept me alive for twenty-nine years and three glorious months.
“Actually, I don’t have to do shit. Mathers doesn’t deserve my respect, and he certainly shouldn’t have yours,” I argued and took a swig of my coffee. “I respect you, and I respect Mannix. Until that man proves he deserves to be at the helm, he can go to hell for all I care.”
Beast shook his head and muttered something with the word fuck thrown in multiple times, which pulled at the corner of my lip.
“What are you drinking?” Beast asked as he sniffed the air and looked at my porcelain cup.
I looked from the large biker down to the black coffee and saw my reflection in the liquid. Time changed everyone, and it certainly changed me. Mannix would tell me something all philosophical like, ‘time is but the journey we choose to take between one life and the next…and with each new journey you take…blah, blah, blah.’ Mannix was always hitting me with crap like that. I didn’t even know where he got that shit—probably scribbled on some bus stop.
“Coffee, black,” I said, and chugged the rest before it got cold. Nothing worse than cold coffee. Well, there were a couple of things, but it was up there on my list.
“Why you drinkin’ that?” Beast looked up at the clock on the wall. “You planning on going dancing with those Weasel members tonight?”
My lip curled up, and to anyone other than Beast and a small handful of others, it would look malicious, and it was, but he also knew it wasn’t directed at him. Becoming an enforcer for a motorcycle club had never been one of my life plans. Looking back, this was where I was always going to end up. That happened when your father was an enforcer for an MC and got sent away for three life sentences when you were nine years, two months, and ten days old.
“Yup. I have two dance partners who are in need of a lesson tonight,” I said and stood to stretch out the tight muscles in my back. I’d spent four hours in the gym today, and my shoulders were officially telling me off.
That was something else that time had changed. I was no longer the eighteen-year-old punk who landed in prison with a smart mouth and very few skills or muscles to back it up. No, I trained hard, worked out harder, and now I was feared more than any other enforcer in all the southern states. Life goals pushed me to make sure that title spread to all corners of the great U.S. of A.
If you were on my list, you were a dead man, and I always left you looking like the spectacle you were meant to be. Why have a nice corpse for opposing members to clean up? That didn’t leave a lasting impression.
“I said soon. I didn’t mean you needed to go tonight,” Beast said.
“No time like the present,” I said, and lit up my smoke.
“But I just got here,” Beast complained as I wandered over to the bar and put the coffee mug on the counter. Smiling, I shot Beast a teasing glance on my way to the door.
“Which is exactly why I’m leaving.” I smirked as Beast swore.
Jogging down the stairs, I pushed my way out into the cool fall night and took a deep breath. I fucking loved Halloween, and I was going to make the most of it. Unable to help myself, I glanced at the dilapidated amusement park next door and snorted as I watched Wilder scurry around, covered in a camouflage of garbage and old stuffed toys. He looked like some creepy ass creature out of a horror flick. I actually found him highly entertaining, and the fact that he scared just about everyone made him A-OK in my mind.
Wilder moved out of sight in the darkness, but I knew he would still be keeping an eye on me. Crazy? Maybe. I think the term crazy was tossed around a little too much and a little too easily these days.
My two bikes stood out from the rest like a sore thumb, or in this case, a sexy middle finger to everyone else. Everyone here rode a sled of some sort, but I was never much of a joiner, so I went and got myself an Indian instead of a Harley. I thought Roach was going to faint the day I rode in on it. That was the second best day of my life. The top spot was held by getting my get-out-of-jail-free card stamped.
My second ride was a chopper. The midnight black paint glistened under the lights of the parking area. The custom paint job of snakeskin—which could only be seen at certain times of day—made you do a double take. When I rode, it looked like the skin was moving under the paint, making my heart pound and my cock hard.
I knew that even though Roach would never say it, he was jealous as hell over my ride. I’d seen him eyeing it up more than once, but I told him girls didn’t dig insects on a paint job. A few choice words were thrown my way that day.
Roach had arrived at the pen when I reached the midway point of my sentence. I remembered the day well. I’d celebrated being on the back half by talking one of the guards into getting me a chocolate cupcake. It helped that I saved that particular guard from having his throat slit in a riot. Every year after that, on the same day, that guard brought me a small treat. Might have been a cupcake or a couple of cookies, but it was a gift, not a favor. I would find it left in my cell just before lights out. There was only one thing that I found tasted sweeter. It came with a cute smile and lips that could suck the chrome off a tailpipe.
Choosing the chopper for tonight, I straddled the girl and shivered as she fired up. I nodded to the guys running the gate as I got close and slipped out onto the dark road. This was a shit part of town, but it felt like home. Much like a rat would still call a sewer home, this was where I belonged.
As I got closer to Miami beach, the traffic thickened, and so did the number of people on the sidewalks. The wide assortment of costumes ranged from cute fuzzy bunnies to terrifying monsters and everything in between. I rolled up to a red light, and a group of girls dressed as different female superheroes squealed and began jumping up and down as they waved.
I smirked and winked at the girls. They were fucking hot, and if I weren’t on the job tonight, one of them would’ve been fucked hard and fast, bent over my bike. I would make sure she couldn’t stand before I brought her back to her friends, then maybe took another for a tour. My cock thickened in my jeans as I stared at the long legs of the stunning blonde dressed up like Supergirl. She could be my Supergirl any day.
The light went green, and Supergirl kissed her hand and blew the kiss in my direction. Being the gentleman I was, I grabbed it out of the air and pretended to eat that shit. Her face went scarlet.
The steady breeze coming off the water hit me in the face and blew my hair back. I decided a long time ago that nothing was ever going to smell as sweet as the ocean. Sitting on the beach in the middle of the night with a drink was my favorite pastime. Aside from killing and fucking, both of which I took very seriously.
My only experience with pussy before being locked up was Mrs. Collins, my foster mother. She was decent to look at and lonely with her husband away all the time. He was a long-distance trucker and was only home two nights out of the week. I had no loyalty to either of them, so when her hand landed on my thigh one night while watching a movie, I didn’t move away.
It had taken me by surprise, and I sat tense through the rest of the movie, but I learned that it was her testing the waters. She had her plan in place, and I would end up the main event. Not that I cared at the time. I needed the experience, and she was willing to fuck me as much as I wanted.
