Dirty Salvation (Renegade Souls MC Romance Saga Book 1)

by V. Theia

  "Kinda busy, babe. But you can wait in the main room for me if you were wanting another go."

  His monstrous deed got worse, smirking at her.

  He deserved a fucking Oscar, Gwennie-baby tears included. Crushing a nice girl's spirit was not something Rider was proud of, nothing would take away the sight of Zara apologizing profusely, her face beet red, and backing out like she had a fire lit under her.

  The moment she was gone he stepped out of the reach of that hungry fucking mouth, growling at Kiki. "Didn't I tell you not to touch my fuckin' dick? get the fuck up and get the fuck out."

  He was furious at the wrong person.

  It wasn't Zara's doing, or Kiki's, the blame for his shitty attitude was all on him.

  When Rider was finally alone, he crashed onto the leather-backed chair, hands raking through his long hair, calling himself all the cocksucking shitheads. Why the hell had he just done that? Oh, yeah, because you're a giant fucking douche afraid of catching feelings from a virgin who rocked your goddamn world last night.

  Whatever club business he pasted into his logic as an excuse, that was the glaring truth. He'd made a crude scene for her to walk into so he didn't have to deal with liking a fucking girl. For all his ingenious and cutthroat business mind, he was as his dad always said; Stupid.

  Fucking stupid. But it was done now.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Torch their stink….” - Rider Marinos

  Present Day.

  The raid on the Raging Rebel’s MC’s dump they lived in went according to meticulous weeks of planning. Along with his VP and Snake, one of his Sergeant at arms, Rider had gone through their plan one last time in church, all his patched in boys more than ready to take out their rival pain in the ass MC.

  The table had grown hushed, silence dropping like acid rain when it became clear that all the weeks of talking they were actually going to take out a rival club.

  Not just a few members, but the whole fucking lot in one fell coordinated swoop.

  It was past due to deal with Hades.

  For more than two years now Rider had let shit slide while he was building his empire, getting his own businesses to a steady state that he could let the day to day running go to his other brothers, it took a lot of dedication out of the president to have so many fucking balls up in the air; that he supposed he’d took his eye off what mattered most, taking care of his territory.

  While it had only been a bit of blow coming through his city Rider had deemed it not worth his time and effort to plug up that irritant once and for all. But then it had become more, and more.

  If word got out that Rider had let it go soon other assholes would try to stop on his patch, weakness was a fast snowball effect and it was not something the Soul’s president was going to lay back and take like a pussy.

  He’d been associated with Hades for longer than he’d wanted to be, otherwise known as Kyle Williams, such a nondescript name for the biggest douche Rider had the misfortune to know.

  There was a time Hades had wanted to prospect for the Renegade Souls, he’d been a hangaround for a few months first, but even then, as a prospect himself Rider had seen Hades true colors and stayed away from the guy, he’d never had the clubs best interest at heart, and for any member of an MC it was club first and foremost.

  When Rider’s uncle the then dickhead Prez had cut Hades loose telling the boy he was not Souls material Hades had stormed off declaring he’d spend the rest of his life making Rex regret that decision.

  And wouldn’t you fucking know, that jerkoff hadn’t gone very far, knowing Armado Springs was run by the Souls, Hades had gone only one city over to Westbank Falls, close enough to fester his nasty self in Rider’s eye-line, and he’d become their thug of choice.

  What a fucking joke.

  But ten years later that fool was President and chief of the notorious one percenters The Raging Rebels. The permanent pain in Rider’s ass.

  Hades had forced the war between them because he was a bitter motherfucker who liked his own way.

  It wasn’t as though the Rebels could touch the Souls, they weren’t even in the same class as Rider’s club, Hades only wished, but they pushed and they pushed, blatantly flipping the finger to all and every last one of Rider’s laws.

  A year ago, Hades had uses Rider’s back roads along the mountains to bring through a shipment of illegal girls he intended to sell, that sick fuck was a pimp, pusher, enforcer, you name it, if it was illegal and morally fucking wrong on every compass, he wanted his fingers into it.

  The talk was he’d brought girls as young as fourteen.

  Enough was enough.

  Rider had had his fill of that irritant and was plugging him up for good.

  The talk was from his tracker that Hades had been out of town for months, only returning this week, where he’d been no one knew, all Rider needed to know was the fucker was back in his own territory and was ripe for the plucking; with a gun and many-fucking-bullets.

  “We’re ghosts, understand? Once we’re inside their flop I don’t care if one of them sees you, as long as you plug it up before his gums can flap and call attention to us. No fancy dancin’ in there, I mean you Hawk...Lawless.” Rider glanced at one then the other enforcer.

  “Straight kills, no calling cards left.”

  Even as Hawk scowled he nodded agreement.

  Tonight wasn’t the time to get fancy with the cutting, there were too many eventualities that could go wrong and too many of the Rebel’s to take to their demise.

  Fast and brutal was the command.

  They’d left their bikes a mile down the road tucked into a grove out of sight, anyone driving by, even with their high beams on, wouldn’t see the row of ten Harley bikes, no would could place the Souls anywhere near the Raging Rebel’s clubhouse, it was all the way across to a neighboring town and if and when the police came to call, and they would, Rider and his boys all were alibi’ed to fuck.

  They had groupies waiting at their compound, soon as they got back they’d get to fucking, and drinking and partying as loud and rowdy as they could get it.

  Did we cause all that mayhem for Kyle Williams and his bloodbath? Not us, officers, we were here the entire night watching the game, knocking back beers, and fucking our ladies, you got the wrong men.

  Keep the alibi short and sweet, it was when a person got complicated that they tripped themselves up.

  Rider pulled a black skull cap over his hair, tied on a blue bandana around his lower face, next he slipped on a pair of black leather gloves, he flexed his fingers getting the right fit.

  Patting his chest automatically searching out his weapons.

  It was strange to anyone else to plan not just a murder but a mass murder.

  This was the life Rider was in.

  Hades didn’t understand reasonable compromise, and for a man like him, Rider wouldn’t compromise, wouldn’t coexist next to him, not when he was blatantly trying to take over Rider’s patch, he’d worked too damn hard.

  “Prez. All set?”

  Tension rode down Rider’s spine as he gave the single nod to his boys. This was not his first kill, he’d done a lot of bad shit in his life if his path was traced back to when his went awry then it would travel back to when he was fourteen, the day his father decided his boy would become a Souls prospect.

  It wasn’t though Rider was made bad, he just decided on that path, there wasn’t any stumbling the wrong way, he deliberately, meticulously made all his decisions, knew exactly what he was doing.

  The standard doesn’t always have to be a bad person who makes the bad decisions, sometimes a bad decision is all you have because of situation you are in.

  Rider never believed in luck, or fate, or destiny. You got what you put in and by god from the age of fourteen he had put in his all, to get where he was, to own his small part of the world.

  Rider was a legend in his domain for what he’d achieved in such a small amount of time.

  And he
wasn’t going to let one dickbrain like Hades try to take it away from him.

  History books never told the truth of wars, and battles, not really.

  It was a condensed version of heroes who won in the end, never telling their journey.

  Whatever Rider’s choices, those bad decisions that turned him into the bad man he was today, all led him to tonight.

  He felt it in his bones, the way calmness came down over him when he and his men forged forward, breaking and entering like the criminals they were.

  Each one of his men had a role to play and it was executed beautifully.

  Murder was an ugly business to be in. But some bad men had to do it.

  Rider’s men were the worst.

  As he moved through the unkempt building the Rebels called home, the stench of weed and unwashed bodies from every corner, the darkness enveloped him, he listened to sounds of death, his boys didn’t waste time.

  There was only one he sought.

  The dicksucking president.

  So far, his office stood empty, cocaine scattered over a desktop, piles of waste paper on the floor, the guy lived in a dump, the bedroom marked PREZ was barren. There was no way Hades had known the raid was going to happen, Rider had kept it so tight not all of his club knew about it, his core men who he trusted with his life.

  When Death happened to knock on your door, the fight or flee came into play.

  As it was, noise escalated as the Rebels tried to fight back.

  Too little too late, death would come even as they struggled.

  He smelled blood. A lot of fucking blood.

  I know you’re here, you shitfuck. Rider prowled. A grim reaper stride, weapons gripped in his hands.

  A streak of darkness slipped by Rider in a hallway, he recognized Hawk’s leather coat flapping at his hips. A second later the distinct sound of death, a startled gargle of noise before the wet noise of a knife being plunged harder into a body.

  Hawk exited the room, his teeth gleamed brilliant white as he smiled at Rider, his voice was low “Another one bites the dust. Fun times at the zoo.”

  Murder always put his VP in a good mood, he slapped Rider’s shoulder and moved out.

  Get in. Get out. No lingering.

  He knew after five minutes of prowling that Hades had somehow escaped detection. Just like a coward, he’d left his men to die without putting up any sort of a fight.

  Rider would have gone down with his ship, but that was the difference between a mediocre president and a great president.

  He couldn’t say he wasn’t disappointed; this was just prolonging shit he didn’t want dragging on.

  Given an inch to gather himself, Hades could and most probably would cause a lot of damage for Rider’s club. But what could he do now?

  He turned on his boots, heading back through a maze of corridors towards the rear exit. Texas was on body count duty, making sure to check every room one last time before they torched the place.

  He couldn’t have said what caught his attention.

  Not a noise exactly, but the hair on the back of his neck stood on end, Rider felt his lungs stall on an inhale as his eyes sought out the disturbance within the air, searching through the blackness.

  In what would be called their main room, shabby couches that had seen better days, a few tables, nothing special, as he thought, the Rebels were animals through and through and lived like one.

  He gave one sharp whistle, his boy’s feet stopping where they were, all eyes came at him. Their adrenaline would be high just as his was, eager to get rid of this fucking place once and for all even if Hades’ wasn’t lying among the dead, his day would come.

  “Hold up a second.” As if sensing the same shit Rider was, Hawk appeared at his side. He would have smiled for his friend's automatic reaction to align himself at Rider’s shoulder instantly, but his eyes had landed on something a few yards away.

  The fuck.

  Had they missed one of the Rebels? He turned his head, caught Hawk’s look, and he nodded towards the window. Both males’ steps were silent. It was only as he got himself closer that Rider paused.

  Two something’s he was seeing. Unmoving yet terrified.

  Hawk had his double guns pointed. Ever the maniac ready for carnage.

  “The fuck is it?” He asked. “Hey, fuckwad, get the fuck out of there, there’s nowhere to hide, face your doom like a fucking man.”

  Hawk was wrong. So wrong, Rider thought, as he went down on his haunches to better see. He couldn't quite figure what he was looking at for a second, he needed to flip a light, but that would have drawn too much outside attention, attention he didn’t need, until one of the lumps on the floor cowering beneath a large dark wood table off in the far corner beneath a window began to whimper and then cry loudly.

  The second lump moved and gathered the crying mess into their arms.

  Not a Rebel after all. Fucking hell, it was two girls.

  Just when his plan was coming together effortlessly he had two upset females on the floor before him. What in the fuck. Groupies were going to happen, if they happened to be a casualty of war then it would, he hadn’t been able to plan around women not hanging around and getting caught up in the fight, they’d lucked out until this point, maybe it was the fuck-fest mid-season break, who could tell, but they hadn’t encountered one female as they ghosted through the place killing one sleeping Rebel after another.

  He almost stepped right on by them to finish the job.

  Hades was nearby somewhere, had to be, if he’d sneaked out when he realized his clubhouse was invaded, then he couldn’t have gone far, not with one of his boys disabling all the vehicles out front.

  Rider wasn't leaving until he was wearing that cocksucker's blood on his hands. But then.

  "Please..please help us."

  A rusty voice pleaded and he stood stock still gazing down against the dark background of shadows, into a pair of glowing eyes, the moonlight catching the bruises on her cheek. The bundle she was holding was much smaller and crying like a wounded animal.

  Disturbingly focused as Rider was, his entire body was precise in what he had to do, whoever these females were, young or old, he couldn’t distinguish in this light, though with her voice her guessed pretty fucking young, he should have walked away, they were Rebels property so his give a fuck was in full mode, he wanted anything to do associated with that club about as much as he did a prostate exam with a rusty knife.

  “Please, help us. They won’t let us leave.”

  The despair in the torn voice reached inside his chest.

  And he made a quick decision. Still, in his crouch, he held out a hand. “Come out from there.” Nothing.

  “Come the fuck out if you wanna get out of here. We ain't waitin’ around.” His voice rose more forceful and that got them moving.

  It was a surprise when it was Lawless of all people who stepped forward, crouching his massive body and reached under the table physically dragging the much smaller person out. She let go in an inhale as if gearing to scream for all she was worth, before that could happen Lawless had her up in his arms, holding her like a football and his palm clamped against her mouth.

  The woman stood closest to Rider trembled and stepped forward. "No! please don't hurt her! please!"

  "Shhh, babe. He ain't going to hurt her, but we need to fuckin' move right now, you with me? stay calm and stay close to me."

  Lawless with his cargo stepped in front of Rider first telling his passenger in a growl.

  "Keep quiet and I'll remove my hand, we're not going to harm you, if you didn't know already, we're helping you." Like magic, the girl went lax in his arms, no longer stiff as a board and ceased her mumbling, as he promised Lawless took away his hand when no scream emitted from her Rider gave the okay for them to finally move out.

  Both girls were unkempt from what he could see, hair a mess, clothes too big, he caught glimpses of blond as she stuck to his back like glue manoeuvring them through the corrido
rs, at a cross section of hallways all five men came to a halt.

  The fuck, all of them looked at each other, and then down the two corridors.

  Which fucking way was out again?

  He was going to have to wing it, they'd already been here too long. it was plenty of time for Hades to have gathered more men together and to head back.

  "It's ... it's this way." The feminine voice dripped with fear, reached out a hand and pointed left.

  "You heard her." his whisper sounded and they all followed Lawless.

  Hawk was the fire starter, he'd stayed behind to set mini fires throughout, couldn't chance using an explosive, it had to look as natural born as they could make it, and gasoline would only bring questions later. Rider was half-way down the street when Hawk emerged minutes later whistling a jaunty fucking tune like he'd just come home from the theater and not caused mayhem.

  He flashed a wicked grin Rider's way as he caught up. "Boom goes bye bye" he laughed darkly.

  And Rider grinned his own amusement.

  His VP was a sick motherfucker to get off on this violence.

  They reached their bikes in record time, but not before they saw smoke begin to billow out of the Rebel's building, a few more minutes it would go up in a blaze but by that time Ride and crew would be back in their own clubhouse in the depths of the party already in full swing.

  Easy enough for the select Souls to slip out and be undetected.

  He climbed onto his Harley, purred his girl to life, set a gaze to the chick.

  The fuck was he meant to do with two Rebels bitches? he wasn't in the business of kidnapping, it ran his blood cold, he'd never use a chick against anyone, it was weak and Rider was anything but weak.

  He had no choice really, he couldn't leave them out here to be picked up by Hades again. He saw already Lawless had the other one on the front of his bike, Jesus Christ, from the size of her she looked no more than twelve years old.

  He'd known Hades was a sick fuck, but keeping kids? Even that turned Rider's stomach over.

  His jaw set in a tight line, voice thick with hatred.

  "Climb on the bike, babe. Hurry up, we can't hang around. You can decide what to do when we get to my club."