by Sam Crescent
“I don’t want them yet,” she said.
“Is everything okay?” Randall asked.
“How do you mean?”
“Your home life? Bishop? The club?”
“Everything is fine.”
She didn’t know why he was asking her all these questions. It wasn’t like anyone could help her, and she was never going to be a rat.
A rat was one of the worst things anyone could be in the club life. She’d seen firsthand what happened to rats, and it wasn’t good. They were the scum of the earth to club life, and had no room there. Even her mother hated rats, and sometimes she wasn’t the biggest fan of the club.
“I know it seems strange me asking you, but I need to know you’re being taken care of.”
“Why? It’s not like you can tell anyone,” she said.
“Believe it or not, Preacher would deal with it.”
She didn’t like the thought of him knowing any personal details. “No. It’s fine. I don’t want the pill. I’m not ready for it, so you don’t have to worry about me having that.” She wasn’t willing to take something that would prevent pregnancy at the risk of Bishop finding out. She didn’t want to think the worst of him, but if he didn’t believe there was a risk of pregnancy, he might not stop when she asked him to. The moment she thought it, she felt so damn bad.
He’d never given her a reason to doubt him, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t want to force the issue.
“Okay. you know where to call me and how to get in touch if you need me, right?”
“Yeah, I do.” She thought about her mother and cringed. “If my mom asks about it could you tell her you talked to me and you resolved something? I don’t want to risk her … you know.”
“I get it.”
He finished repairing the split stitches. They didn’t hurt this time. She watched him get to work, marveling at his technique. He had a steady hand. All the time, the scents from the kitchen were driving her crazy. Her stomach kept on growling.
“I’m starving too,” he said.
Randall was a good guy. She wondered how he actually got involved in the club in the first place. From what she knew, he had his own practice, and was a nice man, sweet. A couple of kids all on his own. No obvious reason to run to the life of crime. Not that it mattered. No one needed a reason to do what they needed to do.
“Finished,” Randall said.
“Dinner’s ready,” Preacher yelled from what she assumed was the kitchen.
“I’m ravenous. Let’s get out of here.”
With a fresh bandage on her arm, she followed the doctor out into the dining room. It had been years since she ate at Preacher’s house with him inside. Bishop always ordered pizza even though she hated it. There was nothing appealing about lots of cheese and a crust. When she took a seat beside Preacher, he surprised her by putting his hands together to say a little prayer. She didn’t know what he said, but after a few seconds, he started to eat. He served her up first before going to Randall and then himself.
“When we’re finished here, I’ll take you home.”
“Okay.”
At least Bishop’s father took care when he refused to. She wondered what he was doing.
****
“Fuck yeah, that feels good,” Bishop said.
He stared down at Milly’s ass. He’d been wanting to get back inside her ever since his father interrupted them the last time.
The good thing about Milly, she was one good lay, and never took anything too seriously.
“Oh, yeah, you’re so big. Fill my ass up. Come on, Bishop. Fuck me like you want to.”
He gripped her hips and pounded her ass. He didn’t stop even as she cried out from a bit of the pain. Bishop didn’t care.
She was a slut just like all of the club women. They were easy, and before his dick was up her ass, he had no doubt she’d been riding someone else. He heard the rumors and knew what the guys said about her.
She was loose in all the right ways.
He also wasn’t stupid. When she didn’t think he was looking, he’d seen the way she looked at his dad. There was only one prize she wanted, and with him, she truly believed he was second best.
Wrapping her hair around his fist, he tugged her back. With his other hand, he held onto her hip, hoping he’d leave bruises. She wanted to use him to further her own agenda, and he wanted to use her body to deal with all the pent-up frustration Robin wouldn’t let him take out on her.
If he’d pushed the issue, he might have gotten her to go down on him or use her hand. He knew she hated doing it, but he was desperate and he was a guy. If only she’d relax and let him take care of her, he’d make it good for her.
A virgin.
He still couldn’t believe she was still a virgin even at seventeen.
He’d lost his V-card at thirteen to one of the club women who sucked his dick like it was a lollipop. He’d loved every second of it, and since then he couldn’t get enough.
His heart belonged to Robin.
He loved her.
She was his soulmate, his very reason for breathing, but sometimes, he needed to scratch an itch, and … Robin didn’t put out and he’d seen plenty of the brothers use the women when their wives weren’t satisfying them at home. There would come a time when Robin finally gave him what he wanted, but until then, he had to use the women, just to slake this need.
There were times he really did feel like he was going to explode, and why not use a willing woman when he could?
Closing his eyes, he imagined it was Robin spread out beneath him. She had some amazing curves, and when he got started with kissing her, he loved to touch her, to feel her come apart in his arms just from a single caress.
It drove her wild, and he fucking loved seeing her like it.
“Yeah, fuck, yeah, Robin.”
“What?”
He ignored Milly’s question. Yanking on her hair, he came, spilling his cum into the condom.
Milly had wanted to go bareback, but again, he wasn’t stupid when it came to her.
He filled the condom with his cum before finally pulling out of her. As he did, he removed the condom, tossing it into the trash.
“You know you don’t have to wear those with me. I’m clean.”
“Yeah, you tell that to all of the other guys?”
“No. Only you. You’re special.”
“Yeah, right. You want me to believe I’m special.” He shook his head. He wasn’t born yesterday, and there was no way he’d get into bed with this woman without wearing one.
She sat up, going to her knees, pushing her tits high up.
“Do you like what you see?” she asked.
“You know I do.”
She wrapped her fingers around his spent cock, but he was more than happy to go again.
“I could give you the world, Bishop. Show you things you’ve only ever seen in your fantasies. Wouldn’t you like that?” She leaned down, licking the tip. His cum was still sticky and on his length.
He watched her, seeing and feeling himself getting harder as she started to work him.
“You taste so good. Do you want me to swallow your cum? I can show it to you. I know men like that. They like to see their cum in a woman’s mouth.” She took the entire head into her mouth, and he closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling. “I can do so much for you.” She went back down on his length again, this time choking on him. “A lot more. So much more than Robin.”
At the mention of Robin’s name, he lost his temper. Shoving her away, he was disgusted with himself.
“You don’t get to say her name.”
“But you like what I’m doing to you,” she said.
Wrapping his fingers around her neck, he pulled her close.
“You’re nothing but a dirty fucking whore. Your only use is to suck on my dick when I want you to, and you won’t say Robin’s name again. Do you understand me? Not in my presence. Not anywhere. She’s a better woman than you’ll ever be. Do you under
stand?”
She nodded, clawing at his hands. “Yes. Yes. Please. You’re hurting me.”
He shoved her down to the floor and held his dick, which was still hard. “Now you can make it up to me, and suck it, right.”
Chapter Three
“What else do you have to report?” Preacher asked.
He glanced around the underground basement, which had just seen one of the most brutal fights in all of its history.
He knew shit could go from bad to worse in a second, but three men had lost their lives tonight, all to the champion calling himself Kabel.
The man was a monster, but Preacher knew all about monsters. He was one, and it took a lot to make him afraid of anyone.
“What do I have to report?” Dog asked. “Not a whole lot. Shit has been settled since you took out the rat. Product is running low on the streets. We’re looking at a new shipment in a couple of weeks.”
Dog was one of the few crew leaders Preacher liked and even did business with. He knew the score, and they managed to find a working relationship that suited them on the streets, at the club, and in their pocket. They made money off each other.
So long as Dog was willing to watch his back, Preacher did the same, keeping them both out of trouble.
“Shipment is happening in three weeks. Until then, tell some of the old ones to pay up in advance,” he said, handing Dog his cut for the fights.
The bodies had already been disposed of. They wouldn’t be found, and no one would come looking. One of their rules for the fights to the death, they had to be nobodies, and before anyone fought, there was a thorough background check.
Any prissy little rich boy, or someone rebelling was immediately removed with no hope of a return.
He didn’t have room for cops investigating his business. When it did happen, it cost him a fortune.
Dog waved the envelope in front of him. “Next month it’s your time to find some men. I’m out for the time being.”
“I’m already on it.” He had a couple of volunteers who wanted to make a name for themselves.
“How is that son of yours? Still keeping out of trouble?”
Preacher stared at Dog. A couple of months ago, Bishop thought himself a racer and had tried to compete using one of his cars in a race. The winner took all the cars and the women to do with as they pleased.
Bishop didn’t go to the race with a woman, and with a car he didn’t own. If it hadn’t been for Dog, Bishop would have ended up on the cutting block. No one raced without papers and bitches.
Preacher wasn’t interested in the races. He helped Dog by paying the cops to look the other way, but that was it. Everything else was between Dog and the competitors.
He got a nice cut at the end of it, but again, it was just money, and he had plenty of that.
“Bishop is … a teenager. A horny, no-good teenager. His attention span is as long as his need to get his dick wet, and that is about it.” He shrugged. “Nothing else I can tell you about with him.”
“Were you like him at your age?” Dog asked.
Preacher stared at Dog. The only reason they were having this conversation was his respect for helping him out; otherwise, he wouldn’t be bothering. He didn’t bring his son into any of his activities.
Dog held his hands up. “I’ll keep to myself. Good doing business with you as always.”
With his own cut, Preacher headed out to where Bear, Frost, and Grave were waiting.
“You okay, Preach?” Bear asked. “You look ready to kill someone.”
“Are we finally taking on Dog’s crew because I would totally be in that fucking fight,” Grave said. “I can’t stand that fucker.”
“No fighting. Just an equal cut, which we’ll decide at the meet tomorrow night.” Running his fingers through his hair, he felt it was getting a little too long now. He was going to have to get it cut, or do something with his hair.
He didn’t like it long, but he also hated going to any hairdresser and there was no way he was trusting any other woman with his hair.
Climbing onto his bike, he turned the engine over, and it purred to life, just like the beauty it was.
Pulling away from the abandoned building, he glanced back over his shoulder, and it was like they never visited there. No one would think of the blood and death shed at the building. This one was owned by Dog, under an alias he had no doubt.
Preacher liked to use offshore accounts to make certain purchases, especially ones he didn’t want traced back to him.
There were always means and ways of getting shit done.
Grave and Frost headed back to the clubhouse while he went in search of Billy, the cop on his payroll who had requested a meeting.
They didn’t go into town.
Billy was a little paranoid when it came to his identity and would often only meet with him out of town at a diner that was off the beaten tracks, and owned by an old woman who cooked everything in bacon fat or lard.
Parking several miles before their destination, he and Bear removed their leather cuts, folding them up and placing them in the sack on their bikes.
Rolling down his sleeves, he covered up his ink, and also pulled the neckline on his shirt up so no one caught sight of any distinguishing ink. He had a lot of it.
A lifetime of stories and tales that would shock the hardest of men.
He was one of the scariest motherfuckers walking on earth, not rotting in a prison cell where he deserved. Preacher was under no illusions about how bad he was as a man. He even knew he was a shit father, and when it came to Bishop, he’d fucked up big time.
It wasn’t his fault, not really.
No, that was passing the buck. He didn’t know how to be a father, a good man.
All of his life, he’d known the worst men could be. His own father, whom he never talked about, had been a monster.
Preacher knew real torture because he’d watched and suffered at the hands of a sadist. Only, he’d grown up in a world where all the abuse and violence were done behind closed doors. When hearing the sound of footsteps terrified because you knew without a shadow of a doubt what would follow those very footsteps.
The pain.
The humiliation.
Sometimes even the hunger.
He’d been starved many times throughout his childhood in order to be taught a lesson. It often surprised Preacher when he took the time to look back, which he rarely did, how big he got considering some weeks and months he was only allowed to eat stewed beans.
Damn, he hated the taste of beans.
Even now, he’d avoid them like the fucking plague.
Pushing those thoughts aside as he continued driving, he realized he would have to do better by Bishop. He figured him hanging around Robin would straighten him out, but all that had done was get Robin in trouble or hurt her.
Parking in one of the few available spots, he and Bear entered the diner.
Billy, like all the times before, sat low, baseball cap, sunglasses, looking like he was in some kind of conspiracy movie.
“Why do we put up with this shit?” Bear asked.
“Fun.”
He sat down in the booth, and Bear took the seat beside Billy, putting his arm around the cop, and pulling him close. He knocked the baseball cap off his head and laughed as he did. “Look at how cute and sweet he looks.” Bear gave him a kiss on the cheek, and Preacher watched, entertained, but he didn’t show it.
“Why all the secrecy?” Preacher asked.
“You know I don’t like to be seen.”
“Ah, Preacher, we’re the losers, and he’s the popular jock.” Bear held him against his cheek. “We are not worthy of so much attention.”
“Bear, enough.” He didn’t raise his voice, and Bear let him go. “Talk.”
“Milner’s getting replaced.”
This was news to Preacher. “Why am I hearing this now from you, and when does he get replaced?”
“End of the week. Milner couldn’t get to you so
oner. His files have been taken, and they’re calling it early retirement. He thinks he screwed up, and well, they’re putting someone on the force who can’t be easily bought.”
“Any idea who?”
“No. I don’t have a clue. It’s all been very hush-hush.”
Sitting back in the booth, he looked at Billy. “What does Milner want me to do?”
“After the party, he’s requested you lay low for a couple of weeks. A few months maybe.”
Bear burst out laughing.
“I don’t believe that is possible, Billy,” Bear said. “You know our schedule. You know what we have planned.”
“Look, you can do whatever the hell you want. We’re not stopping you from doing what it is you feel you need to do.”
“But?”
“None of us know what is going on.” Billy looked around and leaned in close. “They’re checking out files. Trying to see a weakness. I’m telling you, for a couple of months, please, lay low. I’ll be your eyes and ears and we can meet, but you’ve got to give us time.”
Preacher stared at him.
If Milner was being replaced, he would watch his back. He and Milner went back over fifteen years. The old dog knew who he was dealing with, and even though he hated taking money from him, there was no way Milner and men could keep the town of Knight’s Bridge safe.
His reputation, even though he wasn’t in the town but based outside it, kept them all safe, even from rival gangs and clubs. All it took was a phone call from Milner, and he and his crew were there to wipe out the trash.
Sitting back, he looked at the worry on Billy’s face.
He liked the cop in front of him. He was a good man, had his head on straight and knew when to turn the opposite way.
“We’ll do it,” Preacher said.
Bear didn’t dispute him, and getting to his feet, he left Billy to fester in his costume of pretend.
He climbed on his bike, rode out of the diner’s parking lot, and headed toward their stop.
He put his jacket back on and looked across at Bear.
“Go on, say it.”
“No cop has ever made you take a step back before. Why this cop? Why now?”
“Do you know some men make their entire careers on bringing down clubs like ours? The Twisted Monsters is spread far and wide, across many countries, and there will be plenty of people out there to take our club right from under us. It’s a headline grabber. Throwing us all in jail, tossing the key, giving us the good book and showing all the good people of the world what you do with bad people.”