by Quinn Ryder
A head peered over the side of the hole, but I couldn’t see any features, just a black shadow person staring down at me.
“I’ll give Faith your love, motherfucker. Say hi to the Devil for me.” I couldn’t see who it was, but the voice—fuck, I knew that voice well.
I can’t believe that voice had been there this whole time and I couldn’t remember it. My mind had locked it away in some unknown vault, but now that he was standing here shaking my damn hand, it was all coming back to me.
Guerrilla! The man who shot me in the fucking back was Guerrilla!
My grip tightened, my eyes narrowing. Anger shook through my hand, heat rising up my neck. My piece dug into my backside, almost as if it was goading me into pulling it out.
It would be so fucking easy. One slip behind my back and I’d have the barrel of my gun biting into that smug ass chin, digging into the shadow of scruff he refused to shave. God, he was fucked up. The closer I looked at him, the more I could see how far down the rabbit hole he really fell. Meth sores covered his cheeks, his nose red and raw from sniffing cocaine. He even had track marks on his arms where he shot up heroine. How was this guy even alive? It was like his body was one giant Molotov cocktail, veins flowing with kerosene, one fucking match and BAM this motherfucker would be dead.
“What the fuck? You wanna let go of my hand, shithead?” Guerrilla asked, yanking my hand that refused to let go.
Cipher elbowed me in the side, and I dropped his hand, reluctantly.
“What the fuck was that?” Guerrilla growled, rubbing his hand.
“You just reminded me of someone from my past,” I bit, chewing on my words very carefully. “Somebody I’d murder if I ever got my hands on him.”
Guerrilla’s eyes went wide.
Ice stepped between us and glared at me. “You’re really bad at listening aren’t ya, Prospect? You just got voted in and you’re already causing trouble.”
“I didn’t do anything but shake his hand.”
“And try to fuck me,” Daisy piped in, glaring at me. “That prospect tried to fuck me, baby.”
Guerrilla’s brow arched, his eyes narrowing. “Cipher, you better talk to this asshole about the difference between Old Ladies and Sweetbutts. Cause if any man tries to pluck my Daisy, I’ll fucking kill ‘em dead.”
Daisy looked over at me smugly. Fucking bitch, she’s trying to hang me out to dry because I wouldn’t fuck her.
“He didn’t do shit,” one of the other prospects said, walking in on the conversation. “Daisy jumped on his lap and tried to get him to take her into the bathroom. Guess he could see her whorish ways from a mile away.” Thank God for brotherhood. I watched the man settle between us. He was the smaller of the two I saw earlier, and I noticed he had some kind of device over his left ear. I think it’s a Cochlear Implant.
Daisy glared at my fellow prospect. “Lies. Guerrilla, baby, you don’t believe a fucking prospect over your Old Lady, do you?”
Guerrilla glared at me but shrugged his shoulders. “I trust Rex, this motherfucker I don’t fucking care for at all. If I had met him beforehand, I would’ve voted with Switchblade. He’ll never be one of my brothers.”
It was almost as if Guerrilla saw through my exterior and saw the man within. He had suspicion in his eyes and all I had in mine was vengeance.
Cipher gripped my shoulder, squeezing hard. “Give him a chance, Guerrilla. He’s a little rough around the edges, but he’s been fucking unaffiliated and isn’t accustomed to our rules and regs. I’ll get him in line, and if I don’t, you can kick his ass,” Cipher offered. “Ain’t that right, Prospect? Guerrilla can kick your ass if you get out of line again?”
I shot Cipher a look, but I could see behind that wall of perfectly sculpted hair; he was desperately trying to keep my identity a secret and I wasn’t helping him at all.
“Sure.” It was one simple word, but in my mind, I had six others to go with it.
If he lives to see tomorrow.
“Better make sure this motherfucker gets his shit straight, Cipher. You just got patched in, it’s real fucking easy to lose that patch if you’re not careful,” Guerrilla threatened, gripping Daisy who was eye-fucking Cipher like she was ready to mount him like a pony. Cipher wasn’t looking away either, he was eye-fucking her right back.
Damn. This chick has no idea how to be someone’s Old Lady.
“He’ll fucking listen, I’ll make him. Come on, Prospect, you and I need to have a chat.” Cipher grabbed me by the back of my neck and moved me across the room, taking me to the back bedrooms.
Fuck, I really messed this up.
“What was that shit?” Cipher asked after throwing me into his bedroom.
I felt like I had just walked into a villain’s evil hideout, because along one wall were five computer monitors, a massive black desk, and sinister looking computer tower that looked like something out of the Matrix. There was barely enough room for his bed, that was wedged in a corner and modestly covered by a black comforter. He had a handful of computer manuals shoved into a bookshelf headboard that sat behind the bed, and a string of unused condom wrappers hanging off one of the shelves. The room was immaculately clean otherwise. There wasn’t a single beer bottle, cigarette butt, or used condom in sight, which wasn’t normal for members.
Cipher took a seat in the massive rolling chair in front of his computer and waited for me to answer him.
“If I said a momentary lapse of judgment, would you believe me?”
“Momentary lapse of judgment, my ass. What the hell happened back there? I thought you had this?”
“I remembered some shit from the night I was shot. It came at me like a fucking movie. I don’t remember faces, but I sure as shit remember the voice of the man who looked down the hole and told me to tell the Devil hello for him as he buried me alive. It was fucking Guerrilla. I wanted to pull my pistol out and shoot that motherfucker right then and there.”
Cipher shook his head in disbelief. “Damn, that’s . . . fuck . . . are you sure?”
“No, but yes. It’s a jacked-up memory, parts of it are hard to remember. I mean, that asshole buried me alive and left me for dead.”
“You’re a better man than me. I probably would’ve shot him.”
“I wanted to. Still do.”
“What stopped you?”
“Faith.” Even though she wasn’t in the clubhouse, everything came back to her. If I shot Guerrilla now, it would be for nothing. I may never get to tell Faith who I really am, especially if I’m behind bars.
Cipher nodded. “Thank God you have a conscience.”
“More like a mission. Now that I know who killed me, I need to figure out a way of telling Faith without breaking her.”
“Maybe just be truthful?”
“I wish I could, but she’s not the same girl I left behind. There is a darkness inside of her that’s consuming her light. I need to figure out a way to find my Faith again.”
Cipher seemed lost in thought. “You really love her, don’t you?”
“Have you ever loved someone so much that you’d do anything for them, even die?”
Cipher shook his head. “I seem to only get attached to unattainable girls. Girls with issues. Girls that need to be saved. Fucking headcases that would probably slit my throat in my sleep and steal my wallet if I didn’t sleep with one eye open.”
I chuckled. “Well, I died for Faith. The night I was shot, someone, probably Guerrilla, texted me to tell me she was in trouble. I was supposed to be on a run with Guerrilla, but he was running behind. I left my post, Switchblade was there, so I thought it was okay. When I got up to the place where Faith was supposed to be, I got shot. It was a set-up. I just don’t know why Guerrilla did it.”
“Well, I guess we’ll have to figure it out together then. As your sponsor, I’m fucking responsible for your fucking ass. Just do me a favor, okay? Stop pissing the other members off. You haven’t even been a prospect for an hour and half the club already ha
tes your guts.”
“What can I say? I’m a fucking people person.” I tried not to smile but failed.
Cipher grinned. “Do I need to go over the rules with you?”
“Don’t touch someone’s Old Lady. Respect the senior members. Stay the fuck away from drugs. Don’t fuck up. Do what you say. Don’t piss people off. Am I close?”
“Close enough. Ice and Obi should be easy to win over, maybe Scythe, too, but Switchblade and Guerrilla are cut from the same cloth. They don’t trust you; it’s going to take some work to get them to even remotely like you.”
“What if I don’t care if they like me?”
“If you want to stay in the Armada and live to see tomorrow, you’ll at least try. I get that it’s going to be difficult with Guerrilla, but you don’t have proof that it was actually him that shot you. You need a confession, and that ain’t gonna be easy to get. Play nice, and maybe you can get him to sing like a canary. Until then, you’re gonna have to lock that shit up in the vault and hold it in.”
“That’s not gonna be easy.” I was thirsting for Guerrilla’s blood. I could get him alone and shoot that motherfucker like he shot me, but I knew that was going to have to wait, at least until I was ready to confront him.
“It’s what you need to do, Specter. It’s the only way you’ll last longer than a month. The club isn’t what it used to be, and you, you aren’t the man you were. Nobody even knows who the fuck you are. I thought by now that someone would recognize you, but you look so different—different hair, your beard, the fucking tattoos, and goddamn you lost a lot of weight from what I saw in pictures. You’re like a fucking different person altogether. Even Faith has no clue. You would think she would’ve recognized you right away, but she stares at you like you’re a complete stranger. You got some work to do, my friend.”
I leaned against his dresser and sighed. “Yeah, I do. So, where do I start?”
Cipher stroked his chin. “From the bottom. You’re a prospect again, Hercules, and you’ve got one fucking giant Hydra ahead of you to slay, if you’re going to win these filthy animals over anytime soon.”
Chapter Eleven
Faith
Two Months Later
Things have been so strange since Specter became a part of the club. It’s like I can’t get that sexy, bearded man out of my head. I see him when he’s at the bar with the other guys, but I also see him in my dreams and sometimes I even think I see him when I’m just out driving around town. From what I can tell, he isn’t tied down to someone else, but the sweetbutts are all over his ass like they’re starving and he’s a fucking chocolate Easter bunny. Those bitches will latch on to anyone if they think it’ll get them one step closer to being someone’s Old Lady.
Desiree, most call her Down for the D Desi, had shown the most interest in him. Every time he walked into my bar, she was all over his ass, and I had to admit, it made me extremely jealous.
Most of the club members don’t like him, I’ve heard them talking about Specter negatively. They have bets going about how long he’ll last, nothing longer than a month more. Switchblade really hates his guts. If he had his way, Specter would be gone already, but Cipher was doing his best to clean up Specter’s rough around the edges exterior that rubbed everyone so wrong.
I’m hoping that the club will start warming up to him. I like having him around. He’s easy on the eyes, and sometimes when I squint just right, he reminds me of Midas. Maybe that’s why I’m so drawn to him, his personality and the way he acts is exactly how Midas used to act. It’s weird, but also comforting at the same time.
“Heeeey, Speckie,” Down for the D, Desi swooned when Specter sat down on a stool in front of me. She sauntered up to him wearing a short as shit skirt, and a crop top that barely covered her breasts. I swear she had on no bra either, because the bottom of her perky, rounded tits would play peek-a-boo every time she raised her arms.
I fucking hate easy girls.
Specter was barely paying attention to her, so she slid under his arm and straddled him so her back was to me and she was facing him. She started running her fingers through his hair.
“You’re so fucking hot. How are you, baby?”
Specter had on his shades, so she took them off, revealing those devilishly sexy hazel eyes. He briefly looked over at me, but I turned my head like I didn’t care.
I cared.
I cared too fucking much.
“When you gonna make me your Old Lady?” she cooed, squeezing his bicep playfully.
“Not looking for an Old Lady,” he murmured. Then turned his attention to me. “Can I get some whiskey? Whatever she wants, too.”
“Your dick,” Desi giggled, “but you keep denying me.” There was a whine to her voice that grated on my nerves. “But you can buy me two shots, one for me, one for you.” She tapped his nose playfully, her voice doing that annoying cute flirt thing girls try to do when picking up a man.
He motioned for the two shots and I reluctantly filled two shot glasses with tequila.
“Got any limes, Faith? Maybe some salt, too.”
Fuck, I knew exactly where this was going. I grabbed two limes and a saltshaker and slammed them on the bar. Desi didn’t notice my animosity because she was too busy pulling up her shirt and sprinkling her nipples with salt. She grabbed the shot glass and placed it in between her cleavage.
“What do you say, Big boy? Don’t my tits look tasty?” She slipped the lime into her mouth and smiled coyly. The green fruit replacing her teeth.
Specter looked over at me again, and I could see he was hesitating. Almost like he didn’t want to do it. But then Ice, Jagger, Rex, and Obi walked over.
“Body shot!” Obi yelled, and pretty soon every man in the room was crowding around Specter and Desi.
Desi loved the attention, especially when all the single men started cat-calling her naked breasts.
“Come on, Prospect, HIT THE TITS! HIT THE TITS!” Ice commanded, pounding him on the back.
Every guy in the building started chanting “hit the tits” with Ice. Until Specter had no other choice; if he wanted to be a part of this club, he had to hit her tits, and for some reason that made my blood boil like a witch’s cauldron spiked with poison.
Specter gave me one last look of reluctance, before a wicked smile passed over his lips. He dipped down, took the shot glass in his mouth without using his hands and tipped it back. Desi squealed as Specter’s hot mouth sucked in her nipple and he started seductively sucking the salt off them.
“Yeah! Take the lime! Take the lime!” The men shouted, goading Specter to take his mouth off of Desi’s tits and capture the lime from her mouth. As he moved in, he gave her breasts a playful squeeze. She squealed in delight, lime dropping from her mouth until her big fat tongue was shoved halfway down his throat.
Ugh.
This.
Is.
Disgusting.
When Specter finally pulled away, he had a victorious look on his face until his eyes met mine, and my scowl spread. That victorious look quickly melted into regret, and that regret turned to worry when Desi made her next move.
“My turn,” Desi squeaked. She hopped off Specter’s lap and dropped to her knees, unbuckling his pants, before pulling his cock out of his boxers.
Every man was hooting and hollering. This kind of shit happened all the time in here. I’ve seen every member’s dick more times than I’d like to count—even my own damn brother’s. That’s an image I’d like to erase from my mind, but this was the first time I was truly jealous of a sweetbutt’s initiation body shot.
Specter’s dick was rock hard as Desi threw back her shot glass. She didn’t even bother with the salt. She just engulfed his dick with her big ass mouth and brought it in.
Bile.
Yup, that’s definitely bile in my throat.
Desi looked up at me and winked, almost like she knew I was attracted to Specter and was claiming him as her own. My eyes cut through her, envisioning what
it would be like to take a sledgehammer to that slutty, pretty face of hers. I guess I was rubbing the glass in my hand a little too hard because the whole fucking thing shattered in my hand, cutting through the flesh of my palm.
“FUCK!” I yelled, grabbing a towel and wrapping my hand in it. There was glass everywhere, and blood was seeping through the white towel like I severed an artery. My jealous hulk smash had everyone’s attention now. Specter pushed Desi off his dick and quickly fixed his pants. He jumped over the counter before anyone else had a chance to react.
“That looks bad,” he told me, after briefly taking a look at my palm. “You two clean this shit up,” he said to Jagger and Rex, “I’m gonna go check out how bad this hand is.” He ordered the other members around like he’d been doing it for years, and it turned me on how in charge of the situation he was. He grabbed my elbow and guided me to the kitchen area located behind the bar, pushing us through the double doors.
Everyone else just stood around looking stunned. Except Desi, that bitch was pissed.
Specter guided me over to the island of the kitchen and picked me up, lifting me onto it. He then walked over to the first-aid station, hidden behind a desk, and grabbed the first-aid kit.
How did he know it was there?
I hissed when he took the towel off my hand. Blood was gurgling out of the wound, and there was still a large shard of glass imbedded in my hand that I didn’t know was there because my hand was throbbing with pain.
“I’m gonna have to take this out? It’s gonna hurt.”
“I’ll be fine,” I answered, watching him attentively as he pinched the glass between his fingers and tried to pull the shard from my palm.
“Fuuuuck,” I screeched. “Maybe not. That shit hurt.”