by Joy Blood
Premo
Siberian MC book one
Joy Blood
Copyright © 2018 by Joy Blood
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Warning
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Epilogue
Afterword
Also by Joy Blood
Keep in touch
Warning
This book deals with serious topics such as drug use, addiction, violence, and rape. If these are sensitive topics or triggers for you please do not read.
Addiction is a rough issue to cover. I do not presume to know or understand how a person would react in these situations. All information was researched and applied to the story. However this is fiction and just a book.
Not a documentary.
One
“Daddy, how come you and Mommy don’t live together?” I’ve answered this question hundreds of times, but I find myself choking on the words. The usual explanation I tell my four-year-old son gets lodged in my too dry throat and I end up coughing before speaking.
“Because your mom is married to Rico. She loves him.”
“But why don’t she love you?” That is one I haven’t answered—maybe one I wish I could ask the woman myself. Of course, I know the answer already. Hell, if it weren’t for the man she calls her husband, we would be raising Boyd together, but it wouldn’t be because of love. Instead, we are shuttling him back and forth hundreds of miles one weekend out of the month. One fucking weekend is what I get. For now. When my boy is older, I will have to negotiate for weeks, maybe a whole month. Until then, he needs to be with his mom.
“You know what? I don’t know the answer to that one. Might have to save that question for your mama. Yeah?”
“Okay.” He sits quietly, swinging his legs back and forth on the too tall chair, most likely contemplating his next question, which will probably be another stumper. “I don’t think I want a little sister.” This makes me chuckle.
“Yeah, not everyone does, my man, but you will learn one day she is pretty cool.” He only shrugs and goes back to swinging his feet until Rico comes walking through the waiting room doors.
“You want to meet your sister, little man?” Rico asks Boyd, and he jumps down from his chair.
“Is she cool?” he asks Rico, and I have to hold back a laugh.
“Four sure,” Rico assures him, but Boyd still isn’t convinced, turning to me for guidance.
“You’ll never find out unless you meet her. Can’t be all bad. She has your mama for a mom, right?” With that, he gives a big grin and flings his arms out toward me. Getting to my feet, I bend to hug my son tight before letting him down to go see his mom and new sister. “Love you, Boyd. See you in a few weeks, yeah?”
“Yeah, Dad.”
I look over to Rico, who takes my son’s hand in his.
“Congrats on the little girl.”
“Thanks. And thanks for bringing him back early. Means a lot to Ree.” I nod, and just like that, my life walks away from me through the doors to meet his new sibling.
Two
“Pres, good to have you back. Staying for the party?” I only nod my head at our road captain, O, as I walk past him to find an empty room. Normally, I would go back to my place, avoid the booze, but I spend less and less time there nowadays unless I have Boyd.
“Kendal,” I shout out across the room to the brunette perched on Rat’s lap, giving her a chin tip toward the door leading to the rooms. She shoots Rat a pouty lip before bouncing off his lap and scampering toward me. I continue on my path to an empty room, not giving a shit if she’s close behind or not. She’ll get there. They always want to get on their knees for the president’s cock. That’s all I will allow. I keep them on a rotation so they can get theirs from the other guys in the club. May be asshole-ish of me, but they don’t seem to mind.
I have my gun on the dresser and my cut off and hung on the hook by the door by the time she’s closing us in the room. “I didn’t think you would be back at the clubhouse for another two days,” she says, already taking off what little she has on.
“Plans changed.” I tug off my shirt. She stops me before I can get to my belt and starts undoing it on her own, a perky pink grin on her lips. It takes her no time before she has my dick out and her lips wrapped around me, doing what they do best. It’s then I hear the gunshots. Pop, pop, pop in rapid succession, then silence.
I shove her away and tuck myself back in, forgetting about the belt as I grab my gun from the dresser and jog out the door. Hollering about catching something hits my ears the closer I get to where I heard the shots come from. Farther down the hall, Hank comes darting out, waving his gun around. “Motherfucker stole my cash!”
“Who?”
“Some geeked out prick was in my room and made out with my share of our last haul. I shot at him, but he got out the window too quick.” He storms down the hall and outside. “I saw a car take off. Asshole had help. Fuck! I got shit needs paying. Little prick is gonna die.”
“How the fuck would someone have gotten inside undetected?” I ask, but don’t get an answer before Wick is storming our way.
“The fuck is going on?” Wick, our VP, asks, running down the hall with Badger.
“Hank got jacked. Some junkie broke into his room and took his cut from the last job. Got out the window,” I explain.
“Shit, man. Sucks to be you. You get a good look at him?” Badger asks a still fuming Hank. “How the fuck did he get inside?” It’s what I want to know. The walls are high and have barbed wire coiled around the top like a damn prison, then there’s the security cameras and non-scheduled nightly patrols. The thief would have never gotten in, unless someone inside the fence wanted them to.
“Fuck if I know, man. But I saw ’em, know who it is. I’ve seen the fucker around. Know right where to find the piece of shit too. You boys up for a night ride?” Hank asks with a grin, cocking his gun.
“You just going to go u
p to wherever the prick is and shoot him? That won’t get the cops on our ass,” Badger snarks.
“Fuck ’em.” Hank shakes his gun, and I smack the thing out of his hand. Carless fuck. He’s been with the club almost as long as I have, but still needs to be knocked down a peg or two every now and then.
“Another sound plan. How about this, you go lick your wounds with some pussy and tomorrow we vote on what to do in church, yeah? No one is going to go off halfcocked tonight.” I narrow my eyes on Hank, who has probably consumed his weight in liquor. He doesn’t agree; the scowl he shoots my way clearly shows it. Too fucking bad.
“Bullshit having a dry pres,” he mumbles before stomping back to where he came from, not showing me an ounce of the respect he should. Before I can correct his fuck up, both Badger and Wick are on him, pounding his ass into the ground.
“You going to disrespect your pres? Got another thing coming, brother. Not fucking happening,” Wick booms out over a now bleeding Hank, who is all too willing to comply with a broken, gushing nose. He lets out a weak ass, “Sorry,” but I only shake my head and step over him to go back to that blowjob cut off by the asshole popping off bullets.
Tomorrow, we’ll deal with the thief. Tonight, I will supplement my alcohol addiction with a wet and willing mouth, avoiding the bottle I pass on the way from the bar I desperately want to take with me.
Three
“You stole it? From them? Are you out of your mind? They will kill us!” Skinny yells from the passenger seat, slamming his hands on the dashboard.
“Just chill. We’re golden. Besides, if they come for us, we’ll just give ’em her.” He jerks his thumb, indicating I’m the her in this situation. “Bitch can suck like a motherfucking riot.”
“Bible!” They both slap their hands together, laughing.
“Can I get another bump?” The barely audible words scratch on their way out.
“Yeah, sweetness. Just wait ’til we get there. Then we’ll get you all set up.” Jeeves shoots a sly smile my way before returning his focus back to the road. I don’t know where we are, nor do I know where we’re going. All I know is Jeeves said there was something he needed to do and told me to get in the back seat. I didn’t ask, because he promised me more of what I need at the end of his errand. That’s all I ever want these days.
I must have passed out, because when I open my eyes again, the sun is just starting to come up. My body is cold, and when I roll over, I realize the car is no longer moving and I’m the only one inside. Peeking my head up, I look around. Small trailer houses sit one by one only a few feet apart, a set of stairs placed by each side, and three cars, not including the one I’m in. Movement from one of the trailers catches my eye. Skinny walks out of the closest trailer and flings open the car door. “Shit, I thought you might have died,” he says, jerking his chin for me to get out.
I scratch at my arm. “Is Jeeves in there?”
“Yeah, sweetness. He’s in there. Waiting for ya. Let’s go.” I don’t stall before following him, desperate for a hit.
The all-too-familiar smell of body odor and sex hits me as soon as I walk through the door. “There she is.” Jeeves sits on a chair overlooking a mattress laid out on the floor where two other men greet me with hungry eyes. “Come here. Sit on my lap,” he beckons, waving the contents in his hand, making me go faster. His arms wrap around me, but they don’t register, my focus solely on the small bag. “You be a good girl and do what Jeeves says, okay?” I eagerly nod, willing to do anything. I don’t care. I’ve probably done it all anyway. So long as it gets me what I need, I’ll do it without batting an eyelash.
“Good little tart.” He heats the contents of the bag in the spoon, then adds cotton before sucking up the liquid with the needle from the small coffee table in front of us. “Ready for it?” He doesn’t even have to ask. I tie off my arm, and the needle delivers the poison right into my vein. The heat spreads through me, up my arm then through my body, numbing me to the world and whatever is about to happen. I don’t fight off or even care when hands start pulling me down onto the dirty mattress. Don’t care when my clothes are ripped off and I’m groped in unimaginable ways. The euphoric haze engulfs me, brining me to that special place in my mind where nothing can hurt me. Where nothing matters anymore.
Only when the high starts to fade do I feel it. The dull pain forming in my head. It grows with each second. Opening my eyes, the floor gets close, then far away. Over and over again. My limbs still aren’t my own, so I can’t do anything to free myself, but it doesn’t matter anyway. The darkness is taking me, clouding over my eyes like a veil. I start to think I might not wake up from the poison this time, and not for the first time, I wish the darkness will just stay.
Four
“What the hell did you do!” someone from inside the trailer yells, clearly panicked. “Get him off her, Skinny! Jesus, you killed her!” I don’t wait any longer. Extending my booted foot out, I kick the door wide open and raise my gun. Hands shoot up all around the room, but I don’t see them. My focus is on the skin and bones excuse for a woman lying naked on the floor, the bottom half of her body on a dirty mattress, her head in a pool of blood soaking into what’s left of the worn-out carpet. The stench of sex in the air mixes with the tang of copper.
“The fuck are you!” one of the guys on the mattress shouts, and I squeeze the trigger of my gun, answering him with a bullet right between the fucker’s eyes. The prick closest to the woman’s body takes the next bullet to his cheek, and blood sprays over the already stained mattress. His hands fly to his face, trying to keep the blood pouring from his body inside while he screams loud enough for the whole trailer park to hear.
I aim once again, closer this time, and plant another bullet between his eyes. “Shut up.”
“That’s the asshole!” Hank calls out, storming past me. He yanks up the son of a bitch perched on a chair, as if he was just sitting there watching a movie and not some woman getting beaten to death. He’s scared now, pissing himself and crying like a bitch. I resist the urge to put him down like the other two pricks, waiting for Hank to get what he needs from the waste of space.
“I don’t know what you’re are talking about!” the fucker yells, and Hank pistol whips him across the face.
“The hell you don’t, motherfucker. Where is my money!”
“I didn’t take your—”
“Bull-fucking-shit!” Hank slams his fist down on to the man’s jaw, causing spit and blood to fly.
“I didn’t, man.”
“Just kill the fucker. We ain’t got time for this shit,” Wick yells. “I got this one.” He points his pistol to the other guy in the room, standing there silently with his arms still raised.
“No, please,” he whimpers. “I can get your money,” he tells Wick, but Wick being Wick, doesn’t give a shit. He fires off a shot, hitting the skinny asshole right in the chest. His body flies back hard into the wall of the flimsy trailer before crumpling to the floor.
“Oh, fuck, man. Please. I don’t have your money,” the fucker is Hank’s grasp whimpers, as if it will help him.
“I know it was you, asshole. Give it, or it’s lights out.” Hank shakes him a little, and the fucker cries out. Who the fuck steals from the Siberians and thinks they’ll get away with it? They didn’t even leave town. Junkies.
“I don’t have it. I…I…spent it.” The confession earns him another hit. “Please, you can have it all. Just take it,” he tries, pointing toward the baggies of H scattered out over the coffee table. I catch something in Hank’s face as he looks over the table—something I know all too well. Want. It’s how I catch myself staring at a bottle of Vodka.
“Kill ’em. Fucker ain’t got shit,” Wick says, but it lands on deaf ears.
“You can have her too. Take her. She is worth at least twice as much,” the fucker says, referring to the still unmoving woman on the floor.
“She’s fuckin’ dead. What the hell can we do with a dead girl?” Hank yell
s, his gaze landing on her before bouncing back to the table, then to the prick in the chair.
I’m done with the bullshit. We need to get the fuck gone. Not wanting to hear another word, I step forward and fire a shot right into the thief’s chest. “Fuck!” He barely gets to squeak out the word before the life drains from his face, growing pale and slack with each surge of blood from the wound.
“What the hell, Pres?” Hank growls. “I need my money.”
“Your money is gone. Got shot up their arms. Time to fuckin’ go.” I turn to leave the trailer when the woman catches my eye.
“What about her?” Wick asks, forcing himself into my line of sight.
“Just leave the junkie there,” Hank grits out, rummaging through the couch cushions. I look up to Wick, who’s still waiting for my answer. Shaking my head, I storm out of the trailer and hastily get in my truck. I wait there for Wick to get in, then Hank, who takes his sweet time. When everyone is inside and ready, I put the truck in gear, but still can’t let my foot off the break. My mind drifts back to the woman on the floor, and something churns in my gut. I’m transported back in time to the very day my world came crashing down.