Chase (Savage Kings MC Book 1)

by Lane Hart

  Before, I stayed away from Chase because I refused to be the one to break the silence when he’s the one who hurt me. I don’t mean physically, like I’m sure he thinks, but the emotional damage that he caused. Now, though, my curiosity has been raised about the Savage Kings. Since they have charters all over the United States, if I broke a story about them going around killing people on the highway in broad daylight, it could have the potential to go national.

  Besides, even if I don’t write one word of a story, I still need to know the kind of man Chase has become. There was a brief moment in time when I was planning to spend the rest of my life with him. Maybe, if I find out that he’s turned into a killer, I’ll finally be able to let him go once and for all.

  Chapter Three

  Chase

  I pull up back at the clubhouse a few minutes before Abe and Turtle roll up in the flatbed with Abe’s bike strapped on the back, giving me enough time to stash the cash from the Aces in our vault to distribute to the families of our OD victims before I head back outside.

  “Guess you survived after all,” Abe says when he climbs out of the cab. “Did you find them?

  “Can we go talk somewhere else?” I ask him quietly.

  “Yeah, sure,” he replies.

  “Let’s take a walk to the pier,” I suggest, since there’s one near the clubhouse. It’s the only place that you can always trust that your conversation will be confidential. It’s easy to make sure nobody else is around, and the waves drown out the sound for any recording devices.

  On the way, I pull out a smoke and light it up, taking a long draw before blowing it out to try and calm my nerves.

  Once we get to the end of the pier, Abe and I turn around to face the busy boardwalk, putting our backs to the rail to keep an eye out for anyone approaching.

  “So, did you fucking hit them?” he asks.

  “Yeah. The SUV flipped a few times. Don’t know if they survived; those boys didn’t seem bright enough to figure out seatbelts. I’m sure we’ll find out later.,” I tell him. “Did you say anything to Turtle?” I ask.

  “Nah. He knows better than to ask questions. He just laughed when he saw the flat tires. Probably thinks you did it being a dick.”

  “If anyone asks, I did it,” I agree. Taking another drag from my smoke, I blow it out and grin. “Since I am a dick, it shouldn’t be a hard sell.”

  “No shit,” Abe agrees with a chuckle. Crossing his arms over his chest, he looks over at me and arches a dark eyebrow. “So, why don’t you want Turtle or anyone else to know what went down with those assholes?”

  “You heard those guys. Torin is in some sort of deep shit. He owes someone. I don’t know who, but I want a few days to try and get answers from him before we blow the whole thing up with the entire club.”

  “Okay, that makes sense,” Abe agrees. I know I can trust him to keep his mouth shut. The two of us have had each other’s backs since the first day we met in prison. Well, after I socked the big man in the jaw.

  “Torin’s gonna be pissed when he finds out you went after those fuckers without checking with him first,” he says.

  As the president of the MC, Torin pulls weight over me, his VP.

  “I had to make a split-second decision. It wasn’t like I could call him to ask permission and still have time to catch up to them,” I grumble.

  “And you know that if you had called him, he would’ve told you to stand the fuck down.”

  That’s where my brother and I differ. He spent a few years in the Army while I was here holding shit together for the MC. I patched in way before him, when I was just nineteen. But when our uncle died, Torin had been back a few years and was already handling most of the MC’s businesses dealings. He wanted the gavel and was voted in, which was fine by me. I wasn’t cut out for leadership, because I don’t play well with others.

  The thing is, though, during those years apart, Torin developed one set of morals in the Army, and I have an entirely different set…if I even have any at all. Half the MC table is former military who couldn’t find a fit in civilian life when they returned from the desert. The other half of our members are mostly criminals and convicts like me who served time and don’t know how to do anything but the outlaw shit. Torin knows that sometimes you have to cross a few lines to get business handled and dole out justice. If you wait for the rest of the world to do it, you’ll die before it ever gets served. That’s why sometimes you have to take matters into your own fucking hands to balance the scales. And I don’t regret handing out my own brand of retribution that landed me in the Big House for fourteen months. It was worth it, and I deserved it.

  “Let me know if you need anything from me, yeah?” Abe asks as he pushes off the rail.

  “You fucking know it,” I tell him. Taking one last pull on my smoke, I put it out in one of the ashtray buckets bolted down onto the wood. We may be a bunch of savages, but we don’t fuck up our beaches.

  “Shit, what time is it?” I ask aloud, having gotten distracted by all of today’s excitement and the long drive back to town. Obviously I took some detours just to make sure no one else tailed me.

  “Probably around five-thirty or so,” Abe says as we both pull out our phones to check.

  “Damn, I gotta get back to the clubhouse,” I say when I realize it’s already a quarter to six. “I’ll go talk to Torin later.”

  “What the hell is it that you do every afternoon in your room? You take a nap or some shit?” Abe teases as we start walking back.

  “Fuck you,” I tell him as I flip him the finger with a grin. “It’s none of your fucking business.”

  “Well, I don’t know about you, but I plan to spend the rest of my evening with a beautiful redhead.”

  “Which one?” I ask. “Becky or Cynthia?”

  “Either. Both. You know I don’t give a shit,” Abe replies with a smirk. “You can keep your blondes. Reds are way more fucking fun.”

  “If you say so,” I tell him with a shake of my head.

  He’s right, though. I rarely take women back to my room unless my cock is hurting so bad that I’m forced to find it a warm, wet place to get some relief before it explodes. And when that happens, they’re always blonde. It’s been two weeks since I had something besides my hand to keep me company, so maybe I’ll look for someone when we get back to the clubhouse. God knows there’s always an endless supply of easy riders lurking in the Savage Asylum, the bar above where our chapter holds church, and about six of us have basic apartments with a bed and bathroom. Some of the guys have houses, like Torin and War, but they also have families. My single brothers and I prefer to stay where the action is easily accessible for whenever we need a warm body. For a few of my more rowdy brothers, that’s all night, every fucking night.

  After you’ve had the classiest, sexiest, most gorgeous woman ever to walk the earth, it’s hard to get real excited about biker sluts who’ll fuck any bastard in a leather cut. Those girls shouldn’t want me or my brothers to put them on their knees, but we can’t seem to get rid of them. In fact, a few more show up every week, ready and willing to let us use their bodies however we see fit. They know that they may not get anything in return, or they may get fucked rough and dirty, but that’s the best they can hope for. We make no other promises.

  Which is why I only feel a little guilty when I walk into the bar and crook my finger at Nikki, one of our loyals who’s been coming around the club for several months now. I’ve used her mouth a few times before and know she’s a goddamn champ at deep throating. She never whines, bitches, or gives me a fake fucking pout when I kick her out either. And the best part about Nikki? She’s a natural blonde, just like I like, not that mustard yellow fake shit that’s too god awful for me to even pretend they’re someone else.

  As soon as she’s following me, I go over and punch in the code to get in the basement before she can see it. We change the code every week, and only members and their guests are allowed downstairs.

  I keep m
y apartment door locked to prevent my brothers from stealing all my smokes and condoms, so I pull out the key to turn the lock. I push the door open for Nikki, who thank fuck, still hasn’t said a word, to walk through first.

  Locking the door behind us, I grab the remote to turn on the flat screen sitting on top of the dresser which brings up channel seventeen; then I put it on mute.

  “You know what to do,” I tell Nikki when I take a seat at the foot of the bed in front of the flat screen. Without needing further instructions, she kneels down in her tight, sleeveless black dress between my legs and undoes my jeans while I lay back on my elbows.

  My cock hasn’t even started getting hard yet when it bobs free from my jeans.

  Wrapping her hand around my shaft, all it takes is a few teasing flicks of her tongue over the tip to cause the blood to finally rush down and make it lengthen, because I’m a grower and a goddamn shower.

  Before I can even warn her to stop teasing me and get to work sucking, Nikki opens her mouth and takes every inch of me into her throat.

  “Fuck, yes. Just like that,” I tell her as I cup the back of her bobbing head to speed her up. She sucks my cock so good for so long that her jaw has to be hurting, but Nikki doesn’t stop or complain.

  I’m nowhere close to being able to come, not until her face appears on the television screen behind Nikki.

  “Oh, fuck,” I groan, because I swear Sasha gets a little more stunning each day. She’s standing outside, so the wind gently picks up her long blonde hair, making it dance around her face.

  I let out a growl when the camera zooms out and shows some asshole standing beside her, way too close. He’s a fucking cop on top of that.

  Fingernails reach for my stomach, almost distracting me from the screen as they move up my abs and try to push up my shirt.

  “No,” I say, and Nikki backs off of it right away.

  I don’t take my shirt off around anyone. I can’t bear to hear them say her name aloud or ask me who she is when they see my ink.

  Watching Sasha again, my eyes zero in on her right hand holding the microphone, but like usual, there’s not even a trace of my name on her wrist anymore. She erased every part of me from her life and it fucking kills me.

  When Nikki’s moans vibrate around my cock, I realize that I’m probably pulling her hair a little too hard.

  “Play with my balls and suck me faster,” I tell her since I’m losing my hard-on.

  Looking back up at the screen, the news camera pans over behind Sasha to the wreckage that makes me cringe as it brings up the horrid memories of that night I was with her. When I was finally able to get the doctors to release me at hospital so I could see Sasha, she was still unconscious, getting prepped for surgery. Her face was covered in blood, and her knee was a nightmare, twisted in ways it should never go. The woman I loved was lying there in complete disarray, and it was all my fault.

  When the screen zooms in on bullet holes in the side of a black SUV that’s totaled and half burnt, I get to my feet so fast, Nikki almost falls backward before she catches herself.

  Reaching behind me for the remote on the mattress, I unmute it and rewind to hear the whole story.

  And son of a fucking bitch.

  It’s the wreck I caused, and now I know without a doubt that I killed at least one of those men and messed up the other two. So does everyone else up and down the coast.

  Fuck.

  “What’s wrong, baby?” Nikki asks.

  “Get out,” I growl, without even sparing her a glance.

  “But I didn’t finish you off yet. I can do better, I swear.”

  “Later,” I tell her as I tuck my dick into my jeans and zip back up.

  Finally, Nikki gets the hint and leaves without another word. I should’ve walked her back upstairs, but I can’t stop rewinding the news clip. One thing stands out each time – they know it was a member of the Savage Kings, but hopefully, they don’t know it was me.

  We’re gonna need to get a lawyer who can hopefully find a way to keep my ass out of prison.

  And whoever those guys were working for, I’m sure they’ve already reported that Torin’s brother didn’t want to hear their shit. Depending on who these guys are, the club and I could be in for some serious retribution.

  I guess it’s time I finally have that talk with Torin.

  Chapter Four

  Chase

  “Jesus fuck, people!” I grumble as I slap my palm over my eyes to shield them from the atrocities I just witnessed.

  “Sorry, Chase,” Kennedy, Torin’s wife, giggles from underneath him, not the least bit ashamed that I walked up on Torin bending her over the MC’s table.

  “You ever think of closing the damn door?” I ask while fumbling around behind me to find the doorknob and pull it shut while I wait for them to finish.

  I get it — not many of us hang around downstairs until later on in the night, but fuck. I do not need to see my brother with his dick out.

  Instead of listening to them outside the door, I go back to wait in my room. Of course, I sit down on the bed and continue watching the WBRL News, telling myself I want to see if there’s any additional information about the accident and that I’m not just hoping to see her face again.

  Eventually, Kennedy sticks her head in my open door. “He’s all yours now,” she tells me with a grin, her cheeks still flushed from the fucking.

  “I thought you had better manners, Kennedy,” I tease my sister-in-law when I get to my feet.

  “Usually I do,” she replies as she rests her hands on her baby bump that’s now big enough to have its own area code, not that I would tell her that. “But I’m trying to get this baby out, which means getting it in whenever I can. The doctor says sex will sometimes put you into labor.”

  “Any day now, right?” I ask with a grin, excited to meet my nephew.

  “Any fucking day,” she replies with a heavy exhale. “I’m headed home. Try and get Torin out of here before midnight, if you can.”

  “I’ll try,” I tell her before she leaves.

  My brother doesn’t fuck around with any of the girls upstairs. He’d never cheat on Kennedy, because he knows how much it would hurt her, especially while she’s waddling around with his enormous spawn trying to kick its way out. But Torin does stay late most nights, dealing with the headache that comes with running about six different legit businesses as well as being the original charter for a growing MC.

  Turning off my television, I stroll back out into the hallway and down to the chapel, the room where we hold our MC meetings. Like usual, Torin is back to work, sitting at the head of the table, reading through the stack of papers in front of him that a naked Kennedy recently occupied. I know it can’t be easy for him to oversee all of the MC’s legit shit and deal with our grow operation and distribution, but Torin never bitches. He’s a better man than me.

  “Hey, what’s up?” he asks when he sees me come in. Leaning back in his chair with his hands behind his head and a goofy grin on his face, he’s the epitome of a man who just got laid. I hate to say I’m jealous of him and what he has with Kennedy. Mostly because I had that once and I fucked it up.

  It sucks, but now I’m gonna have to burst my brother’s happy little bubble.

  Shutting the door behind me to make sure we’re not interrupted or overheard, I tell him, “I need to talk to you.”

  “Okay?” he says as he lowers his arms and rests them on the table in front of him to get serious. I take my usual seat on his right.

  “Abe and I got pulled over today,” I start. “Not by blue lights, but by a gun barrel.”

  “What the fuck?” he exclaims.

  I fill Torin in on the rest, the exact words the men told me to tell him about the Friday deadline, along with my pursuit that left at least one of the fuckers dead.

  “Goddammit, Chase!” Torin roars as he pushes his chair away from the table and gets up to pace. Both of his hands threaten to pull all of his short, dirty blond
hair out. “What were you even doing at the Aces' bar?”

  “Goddamn me?” I reply definsively as I lean back in my chair. “You know why I paid a visit to the Aces – they’ve been branching out and slinging some hard drugs. We’ve had at least three ODs in town that we know they’re behind. I warned them to stop and made them cough up money for the funerals. There’s fifteen grand in the safe to pay for them. You’re fucking welcome. Now, how about you back the fuck up and tell me what the hell is going on with you? Who do you owe money to, Torin?”

  “None of your fucking business,” he snaps, just like I did at Abe earlier when he wanted to know what I do every night at six o’clock. My shit with Sasha is personal, so whatever is going on with Torin must hit close to home with his old lady.

  “None of my business? Really?” I reply. “I think it suddenly became my business when Abe and I got pulled over at gunpoint by some rat pack assholes.”

  “Just stay out of it,” Torin says while his size fourteen boots continue to burn holes in the carpet with his pacing. “And don’t give the Aces any more shit unless I tell you to.”

  “Someone saw me on the highway gunning the fuckers down! It was on the news. How can I stay out of it now?”

  “Any attorney worth their shit can get you out of some vague ass witness description. Besides, we don’t own the market on leather cuts with bearded skull patches. Any Kings wannabe could make their own. The cops don’t have shit.”

  “Well, we need to get an attorney locked down in case it comes back on me. And we need to call the Wilmington charter and warn them. I probably should’ve already given them a heads-up. They’re the closest to the scene of the accident, so the cops will hit them up first.”

  “Do it. Now,” Torin orders. I take care of it, getting the charter’s VP on the line and summarizing shit for him. Thank fuck Charlie says they haven’t had any LEOs busting down their doors yet in Wilmington, which makes me think Torin is right – they don’t have enough probable cause to get an arrest warrant for anyone. Yet.