Chicago Defiance Box Set Part One

by K E Osborn

  “But I still want you to look after her and treat her as if she were. Okay?”

  She nods and gives me a brief smile before patting my arm and sighing. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out. I thought she was in her element here today. She was coping so well. It takes a certain kind of doctor to work for a club, and I see that in her. Because I see me in her. It might not be too late, Torque.”

  “I can’t hear that right now, Kline. I need to focus solely on the Andretti situation and the shitstorm that happened today. The fact our guns are now fuckin’ AWOL, and we still owe a shipment to Linn is playing heavily on my mind right now. We’re all injured in one way or another, and we need time to heal. I have no idea if something bigger is coming, or if that was their be-all and end-all. All I know is we’re losing this fight right now.”

  Ace glances at me and shakes his head. “Not all is lost, though, Pres.” He pulls out his cell.

  Moving to look at his cell, the red dot is still flashing and active. Raising my brow, I nod. “So the tracking device is still active?”

  He nods. “Yes. Very much so.”

  Standing, I grab his collar lifting him with me, and I glance across the room to Sensei. Ruby’s sitting on his lap, but he quickly removes her and stands to walk over to us as I look down to Chains and Lift.

  “Can you guys handle church?”

  They both nod.

  “Those with patches… in the Chapel, now!” I call out loudly, and Trax lifts his head from between Cindi’s boobs to look at me, and with a nod, he shifts to the side leaving her behind and walks toward the Chapel, along with Scratch and Vibe, who still looks like shit after the beating the Andrettis gave him when he was driving the truck. How he managed to get back in that truck and come to us, I will never know. The guy’s a damn machine.

  Ace, Lift, Chains, and I all head for the Chapel, and I can’t help but feel deflated as I watch my men, some hobbling, some with bandages—we’re a fucking mess.

  This shit can’t happen again.

  This won’t happen again.

  Enzo got us good, and I can imagine that fucker wasn’t even in one of those Romeos. Bastard wouldn’t have wanted to get his hands dirty. The filthy fucker. It feels weird walking into the Chapel without Surge. We all know he’s recovering and will take a little longer than the rest of us, but he’s a stable influence, and his indirect leadership will be missed. He needs time right now, but I want him back as soon as he can by my side.

  Sitting down in my chair—Trax to my left, Chains to my right—I bang my gavel as everyone carefully sits, the pain is etched on their faces. Shaking my head, I hate the way my table looks right now. A bunch of injured bikers is not how I wanted this shit to play out.

  Silence descends on the room as I click my tongue to the roof of my mouth and then sigh. “What a fuckin’ shitshow of epic proportions.” I take a deep breath and sink back into my chair looking at my brothers, who all have the same defeated look on their faces. Well, I for one, know when my ass has been handed to me. Honestly, I didn’t think we were going to make it out of there alive. So for all of us to come back with only injuries, well shit, we have to at least be grateful for that.

  “What do we know so far? Linn wants guns… in a fuckin’ week. The Andrettis stole our load, and we need to get it back. At this point, I don’t really give a fuck whether we take out his whole fuckin’ Mafia family to do so. I’m feeling trigger happy right now.” The boy’s chuckle and nod along with me. “Ace, what have you got for me?” I look past the table to his desk station at the end of the Chapel as he frantically types away on his keyboard.

  “Okay, so I have managed to triangulate the position of the guns’ tracking beacon. It hasn’t moved since it stopped after they were taken.”

  Nodding, I stand up from my chair and walk to his computer looking over his shoulder, and Trax follows looking over mine.

  “So the beacon’s stopped somewhere in The Heart of Italy?”

  Ace shakes his head pointing to the red light on his screen. “No. That’s the weird thing. It’s near Whiskey Row, by the flea markets, near the train tracks by the looks of this.”

  Trax and I look at each other. “What the fuck is our gun shipment sitting stagnant there for? That’s no one’s territory over there? What the fuck is Enzo playing at?” Trax asks, and I shake my head wondering the exact same thing.

  “Ace, what’s happening around the flea market? Any unusual activity in the past few weeks? Months?” I ask, and he types away furiously on his keyboard.

  Then something pops up on the screen. A property lease agreement comes up for the flea market, and a few of the other surrounding businesses, including the rail yard behind the flea market. Trax lets out a loud grunt as I run my hands through my hair and let out a long breath.

  “Fuck! Andrettis bought Whiskey Row, too? What the hell is going on?” I murmur.

  Trax grabs an Ironman bobblehead from Ace’s desk and hurtles it at the wall. It smashes into two pieces which makes Ace snap his head to Trax and glare at him.

  “That was number three of a one hundred limited edition collectible, asshole!”

  “Oh, fuck off. You’re such a nerd sometimes, Ace. Don’t you see we have bigger problems than your man-crush on Robert Downy—”

  “It’s not a crush on the actor. It’s an appreciation for the character Iron Man, and you would do well to—”

  “Enough,” I call out, having heard too much of this bullshit bickering between them in the past. “What the fuck, guys.”

  “I’m deadly serious,” Trax announces crossing his arms over his chest as Ace shakes his head.

  “Asshole,” Ace murmurs under his breath as he continues to type on his computer. “Anyway, from what I can see, if it is Enzo buying all this shit up in town, he’s doing it under one conglomerate. I just can’t gain access to it. It’s being blocked at every angle. They’re good. I didn’t think the Andrettis had a decent tech guy to cover their tracks. But whoever it is… man, he’s sealing their records like a pro.”

  “So if Enzo’s keeping the guns for himself and not selling them off, then what? What’s he using them for? Is he just storing them? What the hell is his end game? Surely, he’s gonna sell them off, right?”

  Trax nods. “Definitely. He stole them from us to fuck up our deal with Linn. In turn, that will fuck up our alliance with the Triad. Then Enzo will sell off our guns and make a profit. It’s a win-win for him. And we lose in every aspect.”

  Running my hand over the back of my neck, I clench my jaw, shifting over options in my head. We could go get our guns back, but we’re all injured and not at full capacity, and the guns will be heavily guarded. It’s a huge risk. Knowing we know where the guns are, we could all be walking into a trap if they have found the tracker.

  Or we sit, wait, and see what happens. It’s a safer option, for now. It’s not one I would usually go for, but there’s not a lot of choice right now. The hardcore biker in me wants to go and fight for what’s ours, mess shit up, get even, but when you’re down, you have to think smarter.

  And right now—we’re down.

  I got to think smart.

  Not with anger or vengeance.

  Trax is gonna hate this.

  Taking a long, deep solid breath, I stand up taller and look around the room at my brothers. “Right, here’s the play… we wait.”

  Trax raises his brow and lets out a grunt of disapproval like I knew he would.

  “We watch the tracker. See what happens. Take the time to recover. Get ourselves back into action before we start the fight to take our city back.”

  “This is bull-fucking-shit—”

  “This is not up for discussion, Trax,” I interrupt.

  His jaw clenches, but he says nothing more. All the man wants is blood. His need to fight for a cause is all well and good, but you have to choose your battles, and right now we need to bide our time. We need to take a pass. We need a breather. We have to gather ourselves before
we go bursting back into the bowels of hell. Because if we went screaming into hell right now, we would surely burn alive.

  “Pres is right… as much as we do not want to admit it, we have been placed at a disadvantage. We need to regain our strength, our composure, and refocus our attempts on our main goals before we turn our hatred for the Andrettis into a full-blown war we cannot win. And at this rate… will not win. We need to play smarter. Not with our fists and fury, but think, use our brains. Our actions can be of greater value when thought is put behind them, rather than our unfathomable rage,” Sensei offers, and I nod. He’s always so calculated with his words, and I know they’re directed more toward my brother than me, but I’m the one to step forward and acknowledge them.

  “Exactly. We don’t need to lose brothers to prove a point to win this battle. This war has been brewing for decades, between Defiance and the Andrettis, and it’s not gonna end with Defiance going down on my watch. We have to play by different rules than Guinness and the club did back in those early days. We all know how that turned out. Sure… Defiance came out on top, and Stefano Andretti was the casualty of that particular battle, but we don’t need that kind of escalation this time if we can help it. Let’s try to keep this as peaceful as possible and find a way to get our damn guns back without all the bloodshed.” My expression shows nothing about how I’m really feeling right now. If I had my way, I’d be raging an all-out war with those fuckers, but I know how wrong that would be. Just how stupid it would be to lead my brothers, my family, into a battle we honestly have no way to win right now. So, instead, I call an end to church. “Let’s have some fuckin’ dinner and think about this again tomorrow.” I walk back over to the head of the table and bang my gavel. “Disperse,” I call out.

  Everyone stands up and starts to head out of the Chapel, excluding Sensei, Trax, and Ace as we gather around Ace’s desk.

  “You know this is the wrong play?” Trax grunts out, and I shake my head.

  “I can’t think that way, brother. We’re all too far gone to be able to fight the way we need to. Our brothers need to be at full strength, and right now we couldn’t fight our way out of a paper bag, let alone wage war.”

  Trax lets out a huff and turns heading for the door. He storms out slamming it shut behind him, leaving me to glance at Sensei.

  “He will be his own undoing.” Sensei shakes his head and looks to me. “You will need to find something to occupy his time, or I fear he might attempt to do something on his own accord.”

  “Shit! Yeah. I’ll have Lala distract him. She seems to be the only one who can keep him relatively sane. His little sister seems to calm him.”

  “If you can pry her away from Tremor,” Ace quips, and I glare at him.

  “Fuck! Don’t even get me started on that pile of steaming shit. Keep me informed regarding the shipment, Ace. If it moves, if anything else happens of interest, I wanna know straightaway.”

  “Sure, Pres,” Ace replies.

  I spin and head out of the Chapel walking straight to the bar where Ruby’s standing behind it serving drinks tonight.

  She looks at me and smiles wide with a wink. “Evening, Pres, you’re looking mighty fine tonight.”

  I let out a snort and sit down on the stool slamming my hand against the bar letting her know I want a beer. She grabs a stein and begins to fill it straight away. “Not the night for it tonight, Rubes, sweetheart, but thanks for trying.”

  She smiles, unfazed by my deflection, and she shrugs. “No worries. Offer’s there if you need to relieve some of that built-up tension you have resting on those shoulders.”

  Placing my head down on my forearm, I shake my head against my arm making Ruby giggle.

  “Wow! She’s really gotten into your head, hasn’t she?” The thud of my stein being placed next to my arm resounds through the air as I take a languid breath.

  “Yeah, fuckin’ woman.”

  She laughs again as I feel her hand pat my back. “There, there… just remember sometimes the best way to get over someone is to get under someone. Ride through the pain.”

  Glancing up from my arm, I smirk at Ruby. “You fuckin’ wanna get laid or something, Rubes? You’re doing a hell of a lot of sex talk right now.”

  She bursts out laughing while drying a beer glass. Shaking shrugs. “It’s kinda my main job here, Pres, remember that? To please the men, I mean. You’re a man, the man actually, and I can see you’re hurting right now… I only want to help.”

  Exhaling, I place my head back on my forearm and groan. “Thanks, Rubes, but I think beer and sleep are what I need right now.”

  “Okay, no worries. Beer I can do, too.”

  “Good, keep ‘em coming. Don’t stop till I pass out.”

  She chuckles. “Oookay, you asked for it.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  TORQUE

  Three Days Later

  The tracking device attached to the gun shipment hasn’t moved, and we’re in limbo about what to do. The brothers are becoming restless. The need for retaliation is building, but my thoughts on trying to maintain the peace is still my main aim. Even though Ace is coming to me every day with a new business that’s caved and had the buyer sell to them for less than the market value.

  I still have no idea why Andretti’s doing it. Or for that matter, how?

  How is the big question here.

  It’s an interesting way to do business that’s for sure. But I guess acquiring a business for less than its net worth and then turning them around and making a profit is a damn smart way to make a splash in the entrepreneurial world of big business. It will certainly make people much higher up, take note—politicians, the police force, the justice system. I can see where this is headed, and I seriously have a fucking issue with it.

  My biggest problem is I can’t fucking concentrate. My mind’s playing in circles. And while I need to focus on the Andrettis, my brain is constantly battling thoughts of Heeley.

  Wondering how she’s doing.

  Is she okay?

  Is she as miserable as I am?

  I know she’s safe, at least. I haven’t pulled her tail, and Zane’s still on the job. I’m hesitant to remove her tail even though I know we’re not together. Not yet. Not until I know the Andretti situation is handled and finished. She probably knows, but she hasn’t said anything. Hell, neither of us have said anything at all since she left. It’s killing me.

  I drank myself into oblivion the night she left, and I spent the entire next day in bed trying to recover. That’s not me. I don’t do this shit. I mean, I’m a fucking president of a fucking outlaw motorcycle club.

  Grow some balls, man!

  But, to be honest, my patience is wearing thin and just getting intel on Heeley is no longer enough. So I’m going to go and check on her myself. I know this is heading into stalker territory, but I need to know she’s okay for my own self-preservation. Then maybe that will allow my head to clear a little.

  It’s getting late as the moon lights the onyx sky. I probably shouldn’t be riding alone in times like these, but I’m only heading five minutes away. I need to feel the air on my face, the musical symphony of the white noise around me, and the Zen-state as I glide through the stress in total peace and harmony.

  The journey will be quick, and I’m only going to do a ride-by anyway. Just a glimpse.

  Yanking on my helmet, I start my engine and hammer down as Gatekeeper opens the gate letting me out. The wind pummels against my helmet, and I finally feel a sense of relief wash over me. Being trapped in the confines of the clubhouse for the past three days has given me cabin fever. Getting back out onto the open road, my tires humming against the asphalt sends a wave of euphoria though me. You can’t beat the exhilaration, the relaxation as you glide through the air with your senses in overdrive and no limitations—the pleasure changes you forever.

  The ride to Fox Froyo Bar doesn’t take long, my intention is to simply ride past, look through the window, spot her, and keep ridin
g. But my bike seems to have other ideas as I pull up across the street and park my bike.

  Yanking off my helmet, I hold it in my hands. I’m far enough away that I hope she can’t see me without having to literally look right at me. I can see straight in through the window, and as she moves from the back room, the room where it all started, my breath catches as she holds a can of whipped cream in her hand. The memory makes me smile. Actually, I chuckle out loud as she moves up to the counter and places it in the cooling fridge. She looks so fucking fabulous, I can barely stand it, in those tiny white shorts and her white and red pinstriped top.

  Oh God, and that apron.

  She looks like my Heeley.

  The girl I know.

  My cock starts to harden against my jeans, and I shake my head as I watch her talk to Xav and Ari. As usual, there are no customers in the shop, and I wonder why.

  As I look closer, Heeley seems different. Her usual spark—it’s gone. She appears upset as Ari wraps her arm around her shoulders and comforts her. I wince as I take a deep breath fighting against everything in me to go in there. Closing my eyes, I swallow hard. I fight the overwhelming urge to rush in there and tell her this is fucking stupid.

  But she wanted this.

  A life without me. A life without drama.

  I get it.

  I really do.

  And I need to give her the space she needs, if that’s what she wants as much as it’s killing me right now.

  As if to sense me, Heeley turns her head, looking out the window directly at me. My eyes shoot open, and I tense, my muscles going taut as I almost fall off my bike. Her eyes stare obviously seeing me.

  Quickly, I put my helmet over my head then start my bike. She turns almost as if she’s going to walk out to me, so I hesitate waiting for her, but then she swallows hard, tears forming in her eyes, and I shake my head hating that I’ve caused her any sort of pain.

  “Shit. Good one, idiot,” I murmur to myself as I hammer down and take off narrowly missing an oncoming car as it honks its horn at me while I ride as fast as I can to get away from her. My heart pummeling a million miles a minute as I breathe heavily.