Princes of Hell MC Set

by KJ Dahlen

  “Pretty much what this place is made up of,” Talon said. “You ride just three?”

  “No,” Eagle said. “You said to have someone watching.”

  “Good,” Talon said. “I think we have a fucking problem here.”

  “What’s that?” Eagle asked.

  Talon pointed to the kitchen table. “Found an envelope full of cash. I counted it twice and came up with a hundred grand.”

  “A hundred thousand dollars?” Cobra asked, his eyes wide. “Hammer was saving for something big, huh?”

  “Pussy ain’t cheap when you’re old and ugly,” Condor said with a chuckle.

  Eagle threw a fist back and hit Condor in the chest. “Show a little respect. The worms ain’t even gotten to him yet.”

  “Sorry, Prez,” Condor said.

  “There’s a name and a number,” Talon said. “Dmitri Grigori. Sound familiar?”

  “I don’t know,” Eagle said. “I’m more intrigued about the cash than the name.”

  “Well, you shouldn’t be,” Talon warned.

  “We found more stuff,” Rogue said.

  “Money?” Cobra asked.

  “Notes,” Talon replied. “The money was behind the toilet. For the hell of it, Rogue pulled the sink out. He thought it looked crooked.”

  “Well, aren’t you the interior designer then?” Eagle asked Rogue. “You should have your own fucking show. Decorating with the Outlaw... Thursday’s at 9...”

  “Thanks, Prez,” Rogue said. “Without being an asshole, looks like Hammer left a debt behind that has a target on all our backs right now. So forgive me for not fucking laughing at your lame joke.”

  Growling, Eagle stepped toward Rogue.

  Talon got between them.

  At the end of the day, Eagle was the President and that commanded a certain level of respect. No matter what. Running off the road on a President was a touchy thing to do... even for a guy named Rogue...

  “Rogue, go catch a smoke out back,” Talon said. “It’s been a crazy afternoon. Make sure nobody is out there watching us.”

  “You got it, VP,” Rogue said. “Sorry for what I said, Prez. No disrespect intended.”

  Eagle didn’t move an inch or say a word.

  Rogue exited through the back of the kitchen to a small and unsteady wooden balcony.

  “Prez,” Talon said. “This is bad.”

  “Show me the entire fucking thing first, Talon,” Eagle ordered.

  “Cash is a hundred large,” Talon said. “When Rogue moved the sink, we found a notebook. Details of dates, bets, wins, losses. Gambling.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Eagle exclaimed. “He was in debt from gambling?”

  “Yeah, but that’s not the bad news.”

  “What’s the bad news then?” Condor asked as he and Cobra looked down at the papers on the table.

  Talon pointed to a sheet of paper that wasn’t attached to the notebook. “It’s half written in Russian. But the English is clear as day. He owes Dmitri three million.”

  “Three million?” Eagle asked. “And he had a hundred grand saved?”

  “No,” Talon said. “That was part of a payment. He owes one fifty every three months to stay current on the balance.”

  “Meaning he hasn’t even touched the three million yet?” Condor asked.

  “Nope,” Talon said.

  “Fuck,” Eagle let out.

  “Prez,” Talon said. “I’m just going to say it like it is. He owes this to the Bratva.”

  Without saying a word, Eagle roared as he grabbed the table and flipped it over.

  The room was silent. Almost too silent. Which meant everyone had been talking and it was well known that Hammer had gotten his ass into some serious trouble. There was nothing Talon could do about everyone talking. His mind and focus were on what the fuck the club was supposed to do now. There was no debt payoff by death. Not when it came to the Bratva. Not to mention there was a note that all but had Hammer promising the clubhouse to the Bratva should he fuck up and fall behind on his payments. Which meant they were squeezing him hard, figuring his old age would catch up to him.

  Sitting here, Talon got more and more pissed off by the second. The whole fucking funeral parade for Hammer was nothing but a giant signal to the Bratva that Hammer was dead. And if anyone at the table didn’t think for a second that with this kind of money owed, they didn’t have someone lurking around town to check up on Hammer, then they should just stand up, leave their leather cut on the table and get the hell out.

  When the door opened and Eagle came walking in, everyone stood up.

  The President walked to the head of the table and nodded for everyone to sit. He remained standing as he reached into his leather cut and took out the giant wad of cash. He put it on the table and spread it damn near side to side, showing off the hundred thousand dollar discovery from Hammer’s bathroom.

  He rubbed his jaw, looked around the room, and slowly sat down.

  Nobody said a word.

  Eagle finally gave a nod to Talon.

  “That’s what we found,” Talon said. He took a drag of his cigarette. “Now, it looks like a nice payday. Enough to pay for hookers for Toll Man for about six months.”

  A few of the guys laughed.

  “No laughing,” Eagle grumbled looking thunderous.

  “That’s my fault, Prez,” Talon said. “Hammer was saving this for a payment on a gambling debt. To the Bratva.”

  “Shit,” Falcon said.

  “How bad is it?” Hawk asked.

  “It’s bad,” Talon said. “This is a hundred grand of a one fifty payment that’s owed in a week. And it doesn’t even touch the amount actually owed.”

  “Which is?” Raptor asked.

  “Three million,” Eagle replied with distain in his voice.

  “Motherfucker,” Falcon said. “No wonder that old bastard lived like he did.”

  “We have to keep our emotions in check right now,” Talon warned. “Hammer was a founding member and deserves our respect for that. This situation is bad, but our only choice is to hit it head on.”

  “Take on the Bratva?” Cobra asked.

  “Or play dumb,” Condor added.

  “Dumb gets a bullet in your head,” Eagle said in disgust. “They don’t play that game.”

  “So what’s our move?” Toll Man asked in his deep voice.

  “You tell us,” Talon said. “You work the books for the MC.”

  “Not for that amount. I mean, we can squeeze a little here and there.”

  “It’s payments,” Rogue said. “It’s not one fifty and see you later. Every three months they want one fifty to keep the account current.”

  “Fuck!” Eagle growled then he punched the table and stood up.

  Talon took another drag of his cigarette, keeping himself as calm as he could. He thought about all those favors he did for Hammer all those years. Working his way into the club. Those were all gambling debts. Beating up guys to take their money to give to Hammer. He used that to pay off debts and to keep betting. Only he eventually got behind and couldn’t stop. Because that’s what they did. They fucking drained you. You end up paying every last dime you had to get nowhere and eventually, die right there in the bathroom where you’d been hiding the notebook and the cash.

  Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Talon rubbed his jaw and took the lead again, “We have to be smart here. First, we don’t call attention to this shit. My advice would be to put that money back where we found it. In case, they go looking for it. They see it’s gone, they know we know.”

  “Can’t do that,” Eagle said. “Took risky. Too tempting for a bunch of outlaws like us.”

  I nodded, knowing he was right.

  We all had our secrets. Some were worse than others, but the temptation of a hundred grand just sitting there for the taking was a little too much for some brothers.

  “Prez is right, brother,” Rogue said. “It makes sense to put it back, but we can’t.”


  “Right.” Talon nodded. “Well, we don’t ride alone. Even if you need to take a prospect, just don’t go out alone for right now.”

  “You don’t think we should get ahead of this?” Cobra asked. “Make contact. Show power that way?”

  Talon looked to Eagle.

  He stared at the cash, slowly shaking his head.

  Some of the guys had dealt with the Bratva in the past. They were the bastards that took Talon’s father’s life. Or at least that’s what Talon believed. There had been a hell of a perfect storm that hit their town all at once. When the dust settled, the MC had won a war, shaken off the Bratva, but lost one of their founding members.

  Hammer had been fucking around with the Bratva since then. Maybe trying to find out who killed Talon’s father. And being near gambling was just too much for a guy like Hammer to handle.

  “Toll Man, you take the cash,” Eagle said. “Keep everything safe. If a fucking penny goes missing, your cut is mine and I’ll hang you by your dick and watch you slowly die.”

  “Better have a big rope, Prez,” Toll Man said as he stood up with a slight smirk on his lips.

  Eagle nodded. “As far as our problem here, listen to what the VP said. Don’t ride alone. Eyes open. Anything looks fucked, you call someone. We can only assume now they’ll be coming.”

  “And when they do?” Cobra asked.

  “We give them their cash.”

  “We just hand shit over like that?” Condor asked looking shocked. “A hundred grand can do a lot for this club right now.”

  “And Bratva blowing our ass up doesn’t help anyone.” Eagle glared at him.

  “Fuck that,” Condor said. “I’m ready for a fight.”

  “We’re not taking a vote on a goddamn war with the Bratva,” Talon growled. “We’re keeping everyone in the loop of what’s happening. No more going back to Hammer’s apartment either. Let the place sit. It’s paid through the month anyway. We’re fine. Right now, it’s about figuring this out.”

  “We’re never going to come up with three million,” Rogue said.

  “Nobody said we had to,” Eagle stated. “For right now, we just play the game straight. But you know how this works. Shake hands with your right hand. Hold the gun with your left hand. And wait for your fucking shot.” Eagle grabbed the gavel and smacked it to the table, ending the meeting.

  The last part left Talon uneasy. This wasn’t some rival crew. This wasn’t the badges either. This was bigger. This was deeper. This was something that had been waiting to boil over for years. Bad enough that Hammer didn’t even bring it to the club.

  We could have done something years ago, you old son of a bitch...

  Talon moved from the clubhouse to the bar.

  The prospects were pouring beers and shots for the guys.

  Talon grabbed a beer and wasted no time in drinking it. All he could do was think back to the times he helped Hammer. Had this bullshit gone back that far? Was Hammer in trouble back then? In a way, Talon wondered if he should feel guilty for helping Hammer back in the day.

  “Well, I’d say by the look on your face, you don’t know what the fuck to think, VP,” Eagle commented as he took a shot glass and threw it back.

  “I can’t wrap my head around it yet. The guy lived like a pig and we never questioned it.”

  “We weren’t allowed to,” Eagle said. “Founding member? You don’t ask questions. In the eyes of the MC, they are Gods.”

  “Yeah, well that God just fucked us.”

  “Careful with that religion around these parts,” Eagle warned. “It gets a little wishy-washy with some of us. Stirs up old feelings.”

  “Yeah, well, you want to go drop to your knees and pray, have at it.”

  “The only one falling to their knees is one of these kitties,” Eagle said with a grin. “So I clear my head a little and think this shit out.”

  “Prez, I need to ask you something.”

  “Go for it.”

  “Are we ready for a war with the Bratva?” Talon asked.

  Eagle just stared, taking too long to answer.

  Before he could answer, someone called Talon’s name.

  Talon turned his head and a prospect stood near a supply closet. “Call for you.”

  “Not now,” Talon said.

  “No, Talon, this is the call...”

  Talon looked back at Eagle, but the President was already on the move.

  He still hadn’t answered Talon’s question about the MC and the Bratva.

  But now there was another big problem at hand.

  Talon headed over and shoved the prospect into the supply closet. “Show me.”

  The prospect crouched and pulled out a cardboard box. It looked like any regular box, expect it was full of old phones. They were all burners, most of them dead or broken. There were only a handful that were still usable. While the club always voted on what to do with the old phones, Talon made sure to save one phone as a just in case measure. It had nothing to do with the club and if the number were ever traced, it would show nothing to do with club business. Talon gave up on carrying the damn thing around a long time ago. But whatever prospect was put in charge of the supply closest was clearly told to watch that fucking box and find Talon if one of the phones got a call or anything else.

  “I was checking this morning,” the prospect said. “I always check your phone first.” He stood up and smiled. “I noticed a bunch of calls from the same number. All overnight.”

  Talon ripped the phone from the prospect’s hand.

  Sure as shit, there were fifteen missed calls. All spanning across a two hour period. From one in the morning until three am.

  The number on the phone didn’t register in Talon’s memory, but that didn’t mean much. He was never good at memorizing phone numbers. “Did you call this number back?”

  “Me? No. I never would. It’s your privacy. That’s what you told me.”

  Talon tapped his hand on the prospect’s face. “Good boy. You deserve a fucking treat for staying so loyal. There’s a shot glass out there meant for me. Drink it.”

  “I’m not—”

  “Drink the fucking shot, prospect.”

  “Yes, sir,” the prospect said.

  “Now get the fuck out of here.”

  The prospect exited the closet.

  Talon shut the door then ran a hand through his hair and heaving a sigh.

  The number wasn’t familiar to him but there was only one person who would call this number.

  Talon needed to confirm it before losing his goddamn mind. He pressed a button to dial the number that had called so frantically in the middle of the night. Talon thought about what he was doing during those hours. He’d been sleeping after drinking himself into a stupor.

  “Talon?” a voice answered the call.

  He instantly shut his eyes and could already see her face.

  The only woman to ever notch off a piece of his heart. The one he had to let go in the worst way possible. The one who was only supposed to get in touch if she was in serious trouble.

  And here she was, getting in touch...

  It had been a long time since Talon had said her name, “Fiona.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The only way Fiona attempted to sleep comfortably was to pin a chair against the doorknob. Some old trick she’d seen a hundred times in movies and shows. The funny part about it was that it didn’t seem like it worked. And it never did work in the movies or the shows. But it helped her to sleep.

  She did so by sitting on the floor with her back to the bed. She kept a bottle of pepper spray behind her back, just under the bed. She slid Bret to the opposite side of the back and stacked up pillows for protection.

  This was all after calling the number she had for Talon. Chances were slim he was going to answer. She knew how the MC life went. They went through phones and methods of contact on a daily basis to avoid getting caught. But it was worth a shot. Fifteens times...

  Devin didn’t come
for her last night.

  But he would soon.

  It maybe would have been better if he just came for her last night. Because now he had the chance to regroup and think about it. Really let it sink in that Fiona stole money from him....then she kicked him in the balls, stole his gun, and made a fool of him. That meant Devin was going to come with backup, ready to attack for real.

  That’s why she needed Talon. If not for herself, she needed him for Bret.

  And what are you going to tell him about Bret?

  Fiona told her mind to ease the hell down. She waited for Bret to wake up and then took him out to breakfast. She sat low key in a diner at a corner booth. There was a minute that went by where she wasn’t looking out the windows, waiting for something to happen. The plan now was...

  There was no real plan.

  So after they ate, they went back to the motel. They had until late afternoon to get out or pay for another night. Fiona debated on just staying and letting them force her out. Maybe she could work up some tears and hustle her way for a free night.

  Either way, something had to give.

  And that something finally did when her phone began to ring. She did a double take when she saw the number. “Talon?” she asked as she took the call.

  There was a really long pause of silence before he spoke.

  “Fiona...”

  “It’s really you,” she asked. Her heart started to race so fast she had to reach for a wall to support herself. She gave Bret the TV remote and punched in the channel for cartoons. Then she went into the bathroom but kept the door open to make sure she could see Bret.

  “You called me last night,” Talon said. “Fifteen times. You’re in trouble.”

  It wasn’t a question.

  That’s because they agreed to only ever talk again if Fiona was in trouble.

  “Yeah,” she said. “Really big trouble.”

  “Tell me where you are, sweetheart.”

  The way sweetheart rolled off his tongue was as sexy as she remembered from before. In a way, they were just kids the first time around. The young teenage puppy dog love that pushed into adulthood. They were never ready for what it took to make things work. The second Talon had been patched into the Princes of Hell, Fiona knew things were going to change and keep changing. She always pictured herself as a nurse or something. A good job. A steady job. And Talon was so good with motorcycles, he could open his own shop. But Talon took the path laid before him from birth. And Fiona took one year of nursing school before dropping out and never went back.