Chains (Quarter Kings MC Book 1)

by Iris Sweetwater

  What in the actual fuck?

  “I didn’t even fuckin’ know we were dealing in any heroin or any hard drugs like that, but fuckin’ New York! What are we doing there? I know for a fuckin’ fact that has to be someone else’s territory. It’s not a good place for you to be. They will kill you. Is that what happened last time?”

  He simply nods before elaborating after a moment of silence. “We were ambushed on the road, forced off our bikes and running for our lives. They took most of it for themselves, as payment I guess, and shot at us without caring what or who they hit before just disappearing. They didn’t chase after us, just wanted the heroin.” He shrugs like it’s nothing, but I know better.

  “This is so sick, Chains. What is he thinking? There are other drugs and other places to get them.” I am more speaking to myself now more than to him, trying to think out loud and formulate some explanation, but I have none other than that Karl has gone completely off his rocker. I know I have to talk to him now more than ever, no matter how hard he beats me for it.

  I have to save Chains.

  ***

  I lean against the wall and wave, watching him disappear with the other men, my eyes trying not to well up with tears. It’s almost like these men are walking the green mile from death row to their final doom, and I know for some of them it’s the damn truth. But is Chains one of them?

  But it doesn’t matter if he is or isn’t this time, because he has been made the head of this operation now. He will be doing this over and over until he does die, and my heart suddenly can’t handle the idea of that. I was never a woman to want to be with a soldier of any kind, thus why I ended up in bed with the creatives of the world. I am too weak to be one of those waiting women and to eventually end up alone, the only one keeping the memory of us alive.

  It’s too fucking Hallmark channel for me.

  And I can’t allow it to continue.

  I immediately go to Karl, who is sitting at the bar and drinking even though it’s early in the afternoon. I can’t believe him just chilling out with a cocktail in his hand when he just sent his men to die.

  “We need to talk,” I growl out, garnering a look of curiosity from the women behind the counter, one of the newer ol’ ladies who I guess needed a little bit of money. I don’t even remember her name.

  “Mind your on fuckin’ business,” I bark at her, and she turns back around, busying herself with cleaning the counter.

  “What can I do to help you this time, Nails?” he asks, sounding bored as he sets his drink a little too hardly on the bar. “Did you not get a big enough bruise last time you stuck your tits in MC business?”

  “Cut the shit, prez,” I hiss through my teeth, half sucking up to him by not using his first name. “We have got to talk about this. Surely, we can do it like civilized adults.”

  “If you want to pretend that a clubwhore can be civilized, then sure. I am all ears, sugar,” he taunts, and I just ignore it, knowing he is trying to bait me.

  “Look, you and I both know that having Chains head up this operation is not a good idea. He is too inexperienced. You need to get him out of there and put a more experienced man in if you are insisting on doing this crazy thing you’re doing,” I whisper, knowing that no one else needs to hear what we are discussing. I am not even supposed to know, but I am desperate enough for this to work to reveal that I do know. Which also shows my cards; that I am with Chains. That I give a shit about him.

  “Since when do you give a shit about some new MC member?” he asks, looking at me, and I can see he is amused. I don’t like that look at all from him because I know it means he is about to play some game with me. I think it’s all he knows how to do anymore. “Don’t pretend you don’t care because no way would you risk such a thing and no way would he tell you what he was up to if ya’ll weren’t in some kind of relationship. And here I thought you were still hung up on me after all these years.”

  “A bit conceded of you, don’t you think?” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. “I am not here to tease and play. I am really asking you to compromise here. Choose a better guy for you, and let me have my guy home safe,” I challenge him.

  “Your guy?” he chuckles a little too loudly, and I wonder if that’s his dark sense of humor or how many cocktails he has had. And I don’t find the humor lost on me either hat an MC prez could even get drunk on cocktails. It just goes to show he is not the right guy for the job either, but I don’t dare say that one. I like my limbs just a little too much for that.

  “Okay, I think I can cut you a deal, but I am not going to take him off of this entirely. You see, the moment that tat went on his body, he became my property. Even if you married him, which let’s be honest is such a fucking joke to even think about, he would still belong to me first and foremost. And that means he works for me. If it wasn’t this assignment, it would just be another one, and dangerous is what and MC does, sweetheart.”

  He spits that word out, and it sickens me, but I am listening to see what he has to say. “Sleep with me, and I will give Chains more men, more experienced ones as well, to help him with his. He will have a large team of men I trust, this making it harder for him to get himself killed.”

  I stare at him incredulously, not knowing what to say to that offer. It certainly wasn’t something I was expecting. “Surely you didn’t come here without some kind of payment or bargaining chip?” he asks, sounding too much like a snake as he does. “You see, I don’t do anything for free or out of the goodness of my heart. I don’t have one anymore. And seeing as you don’t have enough money to offer me anything or much of anything of value, all you have to give me is that body which is on its last good year or so. Take it or leave it.”

  Chapter 14

  Nails

  I turn away from him and pull my clothes back on, feeling disgusted and used, somehow even more so than I used to feel when I did this with some random man for a wad of cash.

  This is the fourth time I have had to sleep with Karl in order to get something I wanted, and all of those things involved the man I love, Chains.

  The worst part is that I know everything about him, all his secrets, and he once knew mine, but this is the one thing I can’t tell him. Because he trusts me. And it would break him.

  I had thought that it was a one-time deal, what Karl has said, but I should have known he was playing at something. Every time Chains leaves to go on his heroin trips, Karl comes to me with a new proposal. An extra man here, an extra weapon there. He is never giving me the full thing for just one fuck, and if it weren’t for the fact that I am trying to keep Chains alive for the next 30 or so good years when he can retire from this shit, then I would have been long gone already. But then again, I wouldn’t have even begun this for just anyone anyway.

  But this time, he was more brazen, asking me to do this before Chains even left.

  A knock comes at the door, and I rush to get dressed, but fuckin’ Karl is already opening the door. Hopefully, he has the damn sense to only open it a crack, but he opens it wide, and right there on the other side is Chains.

  Chains looks at me like I have just killed his dog, and I gasp in total shock, pointing my finger as I get the rest of my clothes back on. “You planned this, you fuckin’ pig!” I scream at Karl, a desperate screech that can probably be heard throughout the clubhouse, and then I follow Chains who now has his walls back up tenfold, and I don’t know what the fuck to do.

  “Please, you have to let me explain what this is about, Chains. Please, I didn’t have a choice,” I call after him, but he only stops in the middle of the hallway without even turning to look at me. And I swear to God my heart is shattering in my chest right now, the one I didn’t think felt enough anymore to do that. And it hurts oh so much worse than it did with Karl because this time, it is all my fault. I feel like shit, and I don’t know if I deserve to have him back again even if everything I did was out of love.

  Fuck. I haven’t even gotten to tell him that yet, those
words, and here he is, ready to dismiss me because he thinks I am fucking Karl on the side.

  I mean, I am, but to save his life and no other reason. I despise the man, and even more so now. He is not a man, even. He is a shark covered in pond scum.

  “I don’t need any explanation. I should have known better to get involved with a clubwhore. I guess you don’t have to fuckin’ worry anymore if your meal ticket gets killed getting heroin, you have someone else now. Probably the one you wanted this whole time.”

  What’s worse than anything is the fact that he isn’t yelling at me or anything. He sounds defeated, like he expected this of me all along, And suddenly, I am the one offended.

  “It’s so easy for you, isn’t it, to look at me that way. It makes all the responsibility go away about leaving someone behind if you just believe that she’s a cheating whore. I am sorry to disappoint you, but I love you, you asshole. Whether you love me or trust me or not. So, I will love you right to your damn grave.”

  And with that, he is gone.

  ***Chains***

  I hear the cries and whimpers from grown men all around me and the click of the bullet sliding into place as the barrel of a gun is placed against my forehead. I should have known the fight I had right before I left was bad luck, but no fucking way did I see this coming.

  As soon as I saw that we were being ambushed, I had everyone put out a call to the prez to see if he could do anything for us. Surely, he has back up around here somewhere; an ally, but so far, no one has come to save us.

  Our pick up point was changed once again, in hopes that we would be safe, as well as even our route home, but it didn’t do any fucking good at all. They were waiting for us, the drugs are gone, and all that was left was an angry mob ready to let us know that we are not welcome here, that Quarter Kings MC are enemy number one here with the gangs that run these streets and the territory surrounding. They don’t care that we beg and plead and tell them we don’t ever sell here. They don’t want anyone causing more eyes on them. They don’t want anyone around at all. And they mean to make that known with a bullet through the brain.

  All the way here, I was so angry. All I could do was picture the two of them fucking each other and laughing about what an idiot I was for thinking she could stay faithful to me. I Imagined then fucking in a wad of cash and her telling him how much she loved him.

  But, ironically, all I can see now are her eyes when I left, even though I didn’t dare look into them. I didn’t want to be fooled anymore by her lies when she tried to tell me that she loved me, but what I fool I am. Who fucking cares if she can be exclusive or not? Life is too fucking short, and if God wants to do me a solid that a slob like me totally doesn’t deserve and save me from this most certain death, I am going to just let her be whoever she needs to be as long as I get to have her in a chapter of my life until I die or she is sick of me. Because the fact that she would even consider me after the monster I have been turned into is just a blessing that I was taking for granted.

  And if I am listening to my heart at all, I know there is a nail embedded in it in the exact shape as her fake red nails. And it’s never leaving. I fucking love her, and I am a hopeless asshole that needs her, even if I have to share her pussy with every damn man in New Orleans. Even if I have to share her with the motherfucker that brought me to this moment of my death.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, and I hear a gun go off, but I feel nothing. Then, I hear more gun fire.

  Well, I am in Heaven or Hell. Hell would be hotter, and Heaven I bet has a no gun policy. My body drops to cover myself as much as possible from the rapid gunfire, and I look up as it stops to find that all the men who are after us, all but one, are bleeding to death now if they aren’t already blown to bits.

  I dare to turn my head around to see a group of men with assault rifles and even one with a fuckin’ Tommy gun. I don’t know who they are, but I can’t help but worry they will be worse than the men we just faced.

  But then one speaks. “Samuel Laurent sends his regards,” the man says in a strong French accent. Not Creole, but perfectly posh French. And I instantly know who the fuck he means, and I am even more scared to be involved in this project now.

  Everyone knows the rumors about Samuel Laurent, Karl’s older brother. He is still in France where he took over the Corsica Mafia with an iron fist. He is the most feared man in Europe, but as far as I knew, he and Karl did not see eye to eye. But now that I know Samuel sent people to save us, I know that part must not be true anymore. It means we are his bitches, and being the bitch of a mafia boss puts you teetering on a fine line of life and death at all times because you so much as breath the wrong way and you could piss him off. And pissing that man off meant horrid torture before you begged for death. And then he so mercifully gives it to you.

  I nod and stand up, bloody and bruised, looking down to survey the damage. And that’s when I see my hand, bullet ridden, and all the men that lay at my feet, some friends and some enemies. It looks like a fuckin’ war zone.

  I hear the same man bark orders in French before I slide back down to the ground against my will. And all I see is a wall of blackness.

  Chapter 15

  Chains

  I blink my eyes open and wonder where the fuck I am because it is so damn bright. I wonder yet again if I have died and gone to some afterlife, but if I have, it would only make sense that this brightness represents some kind of God or Heaven. And a man like me does not belong there.

  So, the solution must mean something else, right?

  Finally, things clear as I squint around me and see four pretty damn blank walls and then down to see I am on the most unconformable bed ever.

  Hospital. I am in the hospital.

  It all comes rushing back to me at once like a soldier with PTSD, and I can feel my heart racing even though I know there is nobody after me inside of a hospital room. And surely, if the MC has me now, they have stationed guards outside the doors. So, I am safe, but it’s like I can hear the gunshots in the room.

  I shiver at the thought of it and begin to gag at the smell of blood fresh in my nose as if the bodies are still all round me.

  When I decided to become a member of an MC I always knew I would be involved in shady things. And I figured in exchange for not going to jail for murder or ending up as a sub again and getting abused, that it was no big deal. I might have to kill someone, and I might get injured here and there, but that was all the action I would get. I never thought something like this would come out if.

  I swear under my breath over and over until I feel a touch on my arm and jump before calming, looking up into the eyes of Doc.

  “They thought it best I be here when you wake up, especially if you decided to sign yourself out against medical approval,” he comments, and then my brain races. I begin to imagine all kinds of things being wrong with me. I was in such shock during the barrage I really don’t know what all damage was done to me.

  “So, I am back in New Orleans, then?” I ask with a gulp, still not wanting to survey my body at all.

  Doc nods, but I don’t like his demeanor. “Give it to me straight,” I growl out at him, and he nods, putting on a brave face. Maybe this is affecting him because of all the lives lost and all the other men he must have had to help treat or the ones he couldn’t help. Who knows? I am not in his mind. But I don’t know that I would want to be either.

  “You have been here for a couple of weeks now, actually. Your fever was so high by the time they got you here that you were delusional. They had to knock you out. You were sent back to us alive but untreated, and so the infection stemmed from the wounds in your left hand and wrist mostly, but also a few other places. You lost a lot of blood and had to have a transfusion, and you had to be given some strong antibiotics. But the infection in your hand, well, it was too late to save it. From your bloodwork, it looks like you might have an underlying immune condition that makes you suspectable to such things. But they had to take your hand. It was that
or let you die. I had to pretend to be your father to give the go ahead.”

  He finishes, and I feel like I am going to puke all over this bed. I am so scared, sweat building on my brow, that I don’t want to even fucking look at that hand. I can still feel it there, though, but I think I have heard of this phantom limb shit before. Where you can still remember what it feels like even after it’s gone.

  “There is some good news, Chains,” Doc stays finally, and I can’t even think of what the fuck could be good right now, but I need to hear this in hopes it will make this seem like it’s not so bad. “Since this was all part of something Karl was doing for his brother, the mafia has paid for you to get a prosthetic. I think you will need to learn to use it and all that shit. I am an old school doctor, don’t really know about thee new kinds of technology with 3D printers and all that, but I will make sure you get your appointments in privacy. At a place you see fit. You have also been sworn to secrecy, Chains. You’re useless to send back out there right now, but Karl don’t want either of us popping off our mouths, if you understand what I mean. And neither does Samuel.”

  I nod slowly, knowing all too well what he means. I talk, I die. It’s that simple.

  I pull out my phone, which they have placed gingerly in the drawer next to me in this bleach-doused, sterile room, and I start going through all the alerts I have missed for the past two weeks, making use of the one hand I have left. And that’s when I see it, the money that has suddenly been wired into my account. And I don’t think it’s a coincidence I was just warned to keep fucking mum.

  I lay back and relax, waiting on a doctor or someone to come check me out so I can schedule these appointments and get out of here, because I know just what I want to do with this money.

  ***

  I am standing in front of her door with my good hand in a fist and ready to knock, but I can’t do it. I don’t know how long I have been standing here like a fucking fool, but I know I need to get this over with or I am gong to regret it the rest of my life.