by Colbie Kay
“Thanks for talkin’ to Jenkins.”
“Don’t thank me. He took your family. I’m your brother and President, so I’m going to protect you; I’m going to help you kill the motherfucker and dispose of his body.”
I stand from the table. “Let’s go, then.”
We leave Hanger’s office, go to the bar where he grabs a few bottles of liquor, then walk out of the clubhouse, and go outside. Hanger waits by the cellar door while I walk to the garage. I find a spare car tire, matches, and a can of gas then walk back to the cellar.
I’ve left this bastard down here for the last week without food, water, and light, depriving him and weakening his state. Hanger uses his key to unlock the room door. We step inside and I pull the string to turn on the hanging overhead light. Dennis blinks rapidly before covering his eyes.
Hanger lays the bottles of liquor down, grabs his ankles, and yanks him off the filthy cot. Hanger holds his arms and legs down. Dennis tries to fight, but he’s not strong enough. “Let me go!” he screams.
I pick up a bottle, open it, and kneel at Dennis’s head, plugging his nose with one hand. He can’t breathe without opening his mouth, so when he does, I begin pouring the alcohol down his throat. He turns his head side to side quickly, but I follow his path and continue pouring. He spits and splutters, alcohol splashing over his face. When the bottle empties I unplug his nose, only giving him a short time to breathe. I get the second bottle open. “Please stop!” he begs.
I repeat the process with the second and third bottles. When the last drop hits his mouth, he turns his head, coughing, spitting more out, and vomiting.
Hanger grabs him by his arms and pulls him up into a sitting position. “Get the rope out there,” he tells me. I go get it and throw it to Hanger. He ties Dennis’s hands behind his back. “My normal way is to hack a person up until they bleed out, but I think this will be much more fitting for you. But don’t worry, you still get some hacking.” I laugh. We each take an arm and pull him to the middle of the room. He’s definitely inebriated, judging by the way he’s swaying.
I pull my blade out of my boot, rip open his shirt, and cut deep into his chest. I welcome the blood that begins seeping out of him. I count each wound I inflict, until I get to fifteen. His face and chest are slashed up pretty good; he’s being drained of blood. I walk outside the room, grab the tire and gas can, and go back in. I set the gas can down then, with both hands, I put the tire over him and let it fall down around his shoulders. I then pick up the gas can and begin pouring the gasoline into the tire. Some seeps out through the bottom of the tire, but most of it has stayed where it’s supposed to.
When Dennis gets a whiff of the gasoline, his eyes widen and he slurs, “Please don’t!” I pull out the matches I stuffed into my pocket and Hanger steps back. I get the whole book of matches lit and throw it into the tire. “Ahh!” He screams as the flames lick up high like an inferno around his head.
The smell of burning hair and flesh sting my nose, but I don’t move a muscle.
Dennis’s screams begin to die down. He is no longer recognizable; his face is charred, and the rest of his body is burning away as well.
“Where the fuck you come up with this idea?” Hanger shakes his head.
“Google.” I laugh.
“I’ll get a couple prospects to clean this mess up.” Hanger walks out of the cellar, leaving me to have a minute. I kick dirt on the now burned dead body of the man that killed my family so the rest of the flames will go out.
When Pretty Boy and Tink come down to deal with the body, I don’t say a word. I walk out, go to my Harley, and head home.
As I scrub the blood out of my cut in the kitchen sink, I watch my resentment, need for revenge, and anger wash down the drain. Some might ask, “Do you feel any remorse for taking his life?” Not one fuckin’ ounce. He took from me, so he paid with his life. Some might say two wrongs don’t make a right, and that might be true, but I say eye for an eye. That’s how me and my brothers work: You fuck with one of us, you pay the price. The day you pay is the day you meet the Satan’s Sinners, and we will send you to meet the devil himself.
Going into the bathroom, I turn on the hot water, strip myself of the soiled clothing, and step inside. I wash away the last of my burdens, my sin, and my past.
After finishing in the shower, I dry off with my towel, wrap it around my waist, and go into my bedroom. I grab a clean pair of jeans and a plain white t-shirt. I put my socks on and then clean my riding boots and put them back on, along with my cut. Grabbing my keys, I go out to the beast, start it up, and ride to Stilettos.
Sierra’s been working out pretty fuckin’ good for the club. The dancers have chilled out, no one’s had to get fired since she started, and it’s keeping Dancer happy and off my case about shit. I love that girl, but damn, she can be like an annoying little shit since she doesn’t give up until you give in. She was right, though; I needed to work through my shit with Sierra, I needed to forgive myself, and she was spot-on about hiring Sierra. I’ll never tell her she was right, though; she’d throw that shit back in my face.
I finish pissin’ in the bathroom, zip up my jeans, and begin washing my hands. When I shut the water off, I hear a commotion outside the door.
“I’ll give you three seconds to get your hands off me.” Who the fuck is Sierra talking to?
“Come on, baby, show me what’s under that tank top.” The fuck? My blood begins to boil inside my veins.
I shove the bathroom door open. “You don’t get a countdown with me, cocksucker!” I reach around, spreading my hand, and grab the guy by his neck, turning him and slamming his back against the wall.
“Hacker!” Sierra screeches.
Ignoring her, I lean in, applying pressure to the bastard’s neck. His face begins turning red from lack of oxygen. “She’s off-limits! Get the fuck out of my club and don’t come back. Understood?” My eyes bore into his terrified ones.
He barely nods, but it’s enough for me to see and he shows his fear. I release him and he grabs his neck, coughing and spluttering. I stomp towards my office and look at the bouncer at the end of the hall. “Get him the fuck out, he’s banned.”
“Hacker!” Sierra calls after me, following behind. She slams the office door. “What the hell was that?”
I turn to face her. “He had no business touching you or having you up against the wall.”
She steps closer. “I was about to handle him.”
“Yeah, well, you didn’t need to.”
“Why’s that? ’Cause now you think you can just step in and handle all my issues?” She crosses her arms over her chest, pushing her full tits up even further.
I reach out with both hands, grab her arms, and push her against the wall. “When I’m around, I’ll fuckin’ take care of shit.”
Her leg wraps around mine, she gives a kick, and I lose my balance. We fall to the ground with her on top of me. “I can handle myself.”
My eyes roam her green eyes, full lips, and tits popping out of her tank top. My cock begins to harden. Flipping us over, I’m now on top, holding her arms above her head. “I said I’d handle it! You got too many burdens, Red; it’s time someone stepped in a took care of shit for you.”
“I didn’t ask for you to.” Her eyes search mine.
“I’m not offering, I’m telling you.”
“You can’t just demand and get your way.”
“You know what I got right now?” I push into her, between her legs, letting her feel my hard cock that’s pressing against the zipper on my jeans. “It’s a big fuckin’ turn-on that you’re so fuckin’ strong.”
A gasp slips free from her parted lips. Her breaths quicken. I lean into her ear and roll my hips into her again. “That’s an even bigger turn-on, seein’ what you need now. I’m here, Red; get used to it, bec
ause you ain’t fighting alone anymore.”
“Hacker?” I didn’t even hear Dancer knock or open the office door. “Get off of her! What are you doing?” Dancer rushes over to us on the floor. I can’t help but to bust out laughing. I look up at Dancer; Dancer’s looking down at Sierra, horrified, and then her eyes widen. “Ohh.” Dancer’s cheeks begin turning five shades of red. “Uh. I’ll leave y’all to it.” She goes back out the door.
“Oh, my God! Get off me!” Sierra begins laughing and I start all over again. I roll to the side and I have to wipe tears from my eyes.
I take a deep breath. “I haven’t laughed that hard in I don’t know how long.”
“Me, either!” She tries catching her breath.
Minutes later, I pick myself up off the floor, help Sierra up, and we go back to work like nothing happened.
We huddle in the storage unit with Cross and a few of his men. Cross is the new dealer we’ve been working with out of Kansas City. “Mickey, open the crate,” Cross orders the man standing to his right.
Mickey obeys, lifting the wooden lid without a word.
“All of your AK-47s,” Cross says with a smirk and a glint in his eye. He points to other crates, listing off each weapon. “Machine guns, sawed-off shotguns, pistols, Berettas.” He takes a few steps over to another crate and opens the lid. “And here you have 100 percent Colombian cocaine.” His smile broadens when he pulls the brick of powder out, holding it in his hand.
Hanger looks around the storage unit and back at Cross. “What’s your price?”
“150k.” He deadpans.
“No deal. We’ll do it for 100k, but no more than that.” Hanger gives him a serious expression, letting him know we won’t budge.
Cross sighs heavily. “Hanger, I’m already cutting you a deal—this is worth at least 200 thousand dollars.”
Hanger folds his arms over his chest. “100k or nothin’, Cross, what’s it gonna be?”
“I can’t go that low. I gotta make money, too.”
“Alright, then, good seein’ ya.” Hanger turns and walks out of the storage unit, all of us Sinners following behind. One by one, we straddle our bikes, with Hanger at the front of the line bringing his Harley to life and the rest of us following suit. The rumbling vibration of twenty-plus motorcycles could make the earth shake.
Cross appears, yelling over the sound of our Harleys. “Fine, you got a deal.”
Hanger nods once. “I’ll be in touch.”
In a single file line we leave Kansas City. We spend hours on the road being free, only stopping long enough to piss, grab a beer, and get some food before we hit the highway again.
The sign for Wichita city limits appears in our vision. I let my brothers ride on as I head for Stilettos.
Walking through the front door, I spot Sierra immediately. I haven’t seen her for a couple days since we were on our run, and my heart squeezes in my chest at the sight of her. She looks good in her tight jeans and tank top. I’ve noticed since she started working here she’s been dressing sexier, wearing more revealing, form-fitting clothes. She’s gorgeous and has the perfect curves to her body. Ample tits I’d like to get my mouth on, a nice round ass I’d like to feel up against me, and lips so full I swear they were made for sucking my cock.
I don’t mix business with pleasure, though, so I’ve been trying to hold back, but it’s gettin’ tough. And with our rocky past, I’m not sure it would be such a good idea makin’ a move on her. The woman drives me fuckin’ insane most of the time, like when we’re both walking around the club and she leans in close, her sweet scent invades my senses, and she whispers in my ear; my cock hardens just thinking about it.
She begins walking towards me and I realize I’ve been stuck in the same place just staring at her. She gets close, but suddenly stops, her gorgeous green eyes widening in surprise.
“Sierra?” a man calls her name. My head snaps in his direction. He’s with a group of guys all dressed in suits, and they all just walked through the door.
“What are you doing here?” She hasn’t moved a muscle.
“Me and some of the guys from the firm came to check out the new strip club. What are you doing here?” He fuckin’ smiles a cocky ass smile.
I glare at the cocksucker. “Who the fuck are you?”
He promptly ignores and walks around me, looking her up and down. “You work here?”
“Umm...”
I cut in, because she’s getting flustered. “None of your fuckin’ business.” I stomp up next to her. “I said, who the fuck are you.”
His eyes dart to me. “Stephen, and you are?” He gives me a onceover in disgust, like he’s fuckin’ better than me. He’s in my club talking to my woman. Ah, fuck! Did I really just consider her mine?
“I’m somebody you don’t wanna fuck with, and that includes what belongs to me.” I stare him down, squaring my shoulders and ready to fight.
“Hacker. Stephen,” Sierra introduces, trying to break the tension that is quickly escalating.
He laughs. “Okay, buddy.” He pulls out his wallet, grabs a twenty, and holds it out to me. “Here, take this and go get a lap dance.” His attention goes back to Sierra, and with his free hand he reaches for hers; she moves her hand away. “Let’s talk, catch up.”
“I’ll break your fuckin’ hand if you touch her.” I’m giving this motherfucker a chance, but I’m about to fuckin’ snap.
He turns back to me. “ Why don’t you go sit down and mind your own business.”
Swiftly reaching out, I grab him around his throat. “She is my fuckin’ business!” I push him through the front door. “Get the fuck out of my club.”
His eyes are wide with shock. “Get your hands off me! Do you know who I am?”
“Hacker, stop!” Sierra screams at me.
I push him into the gravel, laughing. “Do you know who I am?” A crowd begins to form around us.
He tries to get up. “So, what, she’s slumming it with trash now?”
A rage I’ve never known ripples up through me. Standing above him, I bend forward and, rearing my fist back, I throw a punch, landing it on the bridge of his nose. His bone crunches against my fist and blood sprays out of his nostrils. His skull bounces off the pebbles of gravel in the parking lot.
“Ahh!” he hollers and quickly covers his nose. “I could have you arrested, you asshole!”
“Do it, I fuckin’ dare you!” I land my second punch to the side of his face, hitting him in his jaw; his head lolls to the side. Maybe that’ll shut him the fuck up.
“Hacker!” Sierra cries, but I’m not done.
Standing up straight, I kick him in the stomach. He grunts and rolls to his side. I kick him a few more times then raise my foot, about to stomp on his head, when someone pulls me away.
“Hacker, that’s enough, man.” It’s Gus.
I look down at the sorry son of a bitch. “Get him the fuck outta here.” Bending down once more, I firmly lay my hand on the side of his face, applying pressure and pushing it into the hard, textured ground. His cheek digs into the rocks. “You come near her again and you won’t be walking away.” I storm back into the club and go straight to the office.
Sierra comes barreling in behind me. “Hacker, what the hell was that?”
My eyes bore into hers. “He shouldn’t have tried to touch you or talk to you.”
She crosses her arms over her chest and narrows her eyes. “You can’t just go around beating people up.”
I step closer; she steps back. “I can and I fuckin’ will.”
I take a few more steps. “You’re out of control.” She hits the wall, a small cry of frustration leaving her lips.
I cage her in with my hands on the wall. “Nah, Red, I’m in complete control.” Her lips part. I lean in close, o
ur faces almost touching. “Except when it comes to you.” Pulling back, I gaze at her for a moment—and then I leave the office, the club, and I ride away on the beast.
Chapter 16
It’s been a few weeks since our little wrestling match on the office floor and a week since he beat the shit out of Stephen. Not a word has been mentioned about that night and I’d like to forget it even happened.
Hacker is frustrating the hell out of me. I can’t stop thinking about him: the way I felt caged in with him on top of me, the way my body responded in wanting him to take me right then and there, or the way he has been giving me little touches here and there since.
Like right now, I’m glancing at him from across our desks. He has that serious-but-sexy look where his features are hard and stern and his brows are pulled down tight. He’s staring at his computer in deep concentration, his hand runs over his beard, and his tongue peeks out, skimming across the seam of his lips. Gah, I’ve thought about that tongue, those fingers and lips so many times over the last week, it’s ridiculous.
Shaking my head, I look down at the newspaper in front of me on my desk. An article catches my attention...
Dennis Yearly, 55 years old, is missing. He was last seen leaving his residence to go to work. If you have any information, please contact local authorities.
My eyes widen; that’s the man that drove drunk and killed Hacker’s family. Oh, my God! Did he have something to do with his disappearance?
I snap my head up. “Hacker?” I question. Maybe I shouldn’t even ask.
“Yeah?”
I wave my hand. “Nothing, never mind.”
He pushes away from his desk, so I quickly shut the newspaper; he struts over to me and sits on the edge of my desk.
He reaches out, grazing his fingers across my cheek, and pushes my hair behind my ear. “Spit it out, Red.”