Speed
Page 1
Speed
Black Hawk MC
Book One
by Carson Mackenzie
Published by JK Publishing, Inc.
© Copyright February 2016 Carson Mackenzie
Rights and Permissions © February 2016 JK Publishing, Inc.
Cover, art and logo © Copyright February 2016 by JK Publishing, Inc.
All rights reserved.
ISBN#978-1-311-70903-5
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The author has tried to recreate events, locales, and conversations from his/her memories of them. In order to maintain their anonymity in some instances he/she has changed the names of individuals and places. He/she may have changed some identifying characteristics and details such as physical properties, occupations, and places of residence to preserve the privacy for the individuals involved.
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Dedication
Thanks to all who believed I could write something people actually wanted to read.
And to those who are/or will read this—a huge thanks in taking a chance on a new author—you are what makes the grueling hours worth it.
To Harley McRide, who pushed me to get the words out, you are the best.
Carson
Table of Contents
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Epilogue
Books by Carson Mackenzie
Excerpt from Vengeance
About the Author
Prologue
Speed
The only things noticeable on the isolated highway were the sounds of engines roaring and headlights gleaming. I turned my bike and headed down the ramp of the exit that read "Shades Valley 1.3m” to the left with the other bikes following closely behind me. Our final destination—the town cemetery.
The bikes parked and the men dismounted, standing still as the hearse driver opened the back door revealing the casket inside. Six men stepped forward, each taking a handle on the casket, hoisting it out of the vehicle as they walked slowly to the freshly dug grave. They set the casket down gently, each laying a palm flat on the lid, saying their individual goodbye to their brother before stepping back and taking their place with the others in the circle of men around the grave.
Our brother, Preacher, stepped forward to say the last words pertaining to the man inside the casket, their brother, their friend, and their comrade. To me the man in the box was all those things and more—my dad, Harvey Weston. Better known as Cutter, one of the Enforcers of the Black Hawk MC. Each of us bowed our heads saying a silent goodbye to one of our own. After all was said and done, we turned and headed to our bikes for the ride back to the clubhouse to celebrate the man who would no longer have physical presence among us.
The clubhouse was in full swing with the hang-arounds and ol’ ladies rushing around, setting out food, and stocking the bar for the celebration to begin upon our arrival. The women didn't attend the final service, it was for the men of the club, our final ride with our brother to say goodbye. The women attended the night before when the members from the other Charters came to pay respect. Now, everyone would share in the party to remember our fallen’s life in the club, not to mourn him.
I entered and took a spot by the door, leaning against the wall. These last few days seemed to have crept by, leaving me a little out of sorts. I leave in the morning and this would be my last night at the club for a while, I hoped to end it between a pair of thighs. As I looked around the room, I spotted the guys who over the last twenty plus years have made up my family. We were born within months of each other—grew up together—even chased and fought over girls together. We'd been the local hotshots in high school and grew into men, the ones most fathers fear would steal their daughters. The six of us were as cocky as they came and caused trouble wherever we went. And yeah, we fucked everything that dared step in our paths. Since as far back as I could remember, we’ve been referred to as the Sons of Black Hawk.
Smiling, I watched my friends headed in my direction. Damn, I love these guys, but I would never admit that aloud, 'cause a fight would begin when one of them called me a pussy. Yes, one would, it was a given. We've fought most of our lives and as I look at Crusher’s face, I can recall that was exactly where he got the scar above his left eyebrow.
We're allowed to give each other shit; it's what brothers do. But that's between us, if someone else wanted to give one of us a hard time, well…they better be ready to take us all on.
Crusher’s the son of the club's President. One of my best friends who would eventually take over the club when his dad stepped down. Me, I would be one of the Enforcers and with my dad's death, my spot sits ready and waiting for me to fill it. We each would replace our father in whatever position they hold when they step down. All they waited
on was for each of us to find our way, then settle back here to prepare for the position that we have been told over the years we were born to fill.
"Speed, sorry, man, we loved your dad. This club sure is going to miss him," Russ "Crusher" Davis was going to make us a fine Prez when it was his time. Like the rest of us, this club was full of family and we would do anything necessary to take care of them.
Crusher smacked me on the back and leaned in, giving me the equivalent of a man hug. Then before I knew it, I’m pulled in for man hugs by the rest of my friends, my brothers at heart, and my closest family now—Crusher, Coast, Jag, Flirt, and Devil. No man could ask for better.
"Bro, you head back tomorrow, and we will be following over the next few days," Russ always had to have everything laid out nice and orderly, no detail left to chance. But it was a quality needed in a club president.
"Yeah, I have to get back to the desert. Left my guys a man short. And fuck, that is one place where every body counts, literally." I didn't want to get into the fact I re-upped right before I made the emergency trip home.
"Speed, the dads have been making remarks about as soon as we start trickling our way back here, they want us taking bigger roles in the club to prepare us to take over when they step down. I personally will believe it when I see it but that’s what they keep repeating," Flirt was talking to us but his eyes were scoping out the room. I shook my head and smacked him on the back to pull his attention to us.
"Man, you can't even look at us for the eye-fucking you're giving the bitches," I knew the statement would get to him, he hadn't earned his name for nothing.
"Oh, I'm looking around 'cause my eyes aren't the only part of me that’s going to be fucking before this night is over. I've been checking out the new pieces who have graced the club with their presence. And either I am getting older or these bitches are getting younger, 'cause, brothers, what is standing in this room is fresh," he glanced over at me and then went right back to looking at the group huddled together across the room.
"You grabbing a piece tonight, Speed, or you going to catch some z’s before you head back?" Devil nudged me and when I looked at him, he burst out laughing.
"Of course, just like you are, huh?" as I raised my eyebrows at him.
"Damn, should we even be joking? I feel so bad about Cutter. Fuck, our dads are supposed to live forever. What the hell!" Jag looked at each of us, frowning. He's the more serious one of our bunch. He's headed back to school to finish his degree, which would benefit the club in more ways than one. As I look at my friend, who while we were growing up broke more rules than the rest of us combined, I still couldn’t believe the next time I probably saw him, he would be the MC's attorney and more than likely preparing for his eventual spot as VP of the club too.
"Speed, Dad said not to worry. He'd take care of the club issues until you are ready to take your dad's position. They aren't even going to temporarily fill it. The seat stays empty till you come back." Coast smiled at me and nodded his head. Yeah, his dad and mine were the Enforcers in the club. Now it would be left to Coast's dad to cover everything until I came back. One more reason to question why I re-upped. I should be coming home permanently; instead, I’d be shipping back out. Well, it was what it was. No changing things now.
I smiled thinking of what my dad's response to it would have been. "Kane, shit happens for a reason, you wait long enough, and the path to ride on will change and be all the more enjoyable."
Damn, I’m going to miss my old man.
"You boys going to be unsociable tonight? Or you gonna give some of these women something to talk about until you get back for good?" The club's Prez, and Russ's dad, Stroker, said with a smile on his face as he walked toward us.
"Nah, they will definitely be left with plenty to carry them over till we get back. We wouldn't want the new ones to get the wrong impression of the club from you old fuckers." We all laugh at my response, knowing it always got to the older guys even though there had never been such a comment made on any of their performances with the ladies that have come and gone in the club. If anything, it was the exact opposite.
"Hey, why don't you guys give me a few minutes here with Speed and then you can have him back." Stroker didn't have to say another word, the others walked off, leaving me standing with the Prez.
"Son, you’ll always have a place here. You know that, right?" Stroker placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. Mitchell Davis, the president of the Black Hawk MC, referred to as Prez or Stroker, and when I thought back to when we were told how he earned the name Stroker, it always made me smile.
"I know, and appreciate it. This is home. I'll be back," I spoke, never turning to face the man. "What's up, Stroker, you thinking I'm not going to want to come back since my dad is gone? This club is my family, always has been."
"Nope, and I know we are your family. I also know you boys talk, just looking toward the future of the club, Speed. Your dad was going to talk with you the next time you came in on leave. We voted and as you boys start coming back for good, we want to start working you in on the business side of the club to prepare you boys for when we turn over the reins. Now with Cutter's spot open, it is there as soon as you want it or are ready to take it over." I heard a small catch in his voice and turned my head to look at Stroker and for the first time I noticed the years reflecting on the man's face.
"What are you five going to do when you step to the side?" I look back to the party. I had doubts they would be able to sit quietly by letting us run shit, but I guess anything’s possible.
"We want when the day comes, to be able to ride for pleasure, relax, and enjoy not having the responsibility of the whole club on our shoulders. Who knows, maybe one us will take an ol’ lady." I’m surprised I didn’t get whiplash from the speed I whipped my head around to look at him and then when I looked at his face, his grin gave away that that statement was a big crock of shit. My brothers and I would be surprised if they ever took ol’ ladies. Why, when even at their ages, they didn’t hurt for a woman’s company.
Sure, our dads are some tough, mean-when-they-need-to-be, men, but they had run like the wind over the years if a woman even gave a hint to wanting to tie one of them down. Then again, I see the draw to staying single myself: no one to worry about, coming and going as you please, and the best part—different pussy anytime you want. Though some of the members have ol’ ladies and still enjoy a little extra something on the side, most in the club when they find their other half, that is it for them. Then again, the brothers have found the other half to their souls so why would they want to chance losing it? Well, at least that is what they say and it only gets said when they are shit-faced because no brother in their right mind would speak of feelings unless he wanted someone to give him shit. I finally focus back on Stroker and my conversation enough to answer.
"I'll do one more tour and come back then," I told him, more to put his mind at ease. With the six of us growing up in the club, our dads raised us to follow the rules at an early age. It's what we know, Black Hawk MC will always be home, and no matter how many side trips are taken along the way, we would always end up here.
"You better, you fucking smartass. It still amazes me they let you in with all the artwork on your body. We still laugh about your first day there." He smacked my back and chuckled.
Never will live that shit down.
"I don't know why you guys think that is funnier than shit. I didn't see the fucking humor in them asking me in front of everyone. Hell, I really think some of the guys in my unit believed the shit they were spewing." All I could do was shake my head thinking about the stupidity it took in believing the judge had ordered me to join. All due to the fact I was covered in tats. Dumbasses.
"Maybe it was because you were a scrawny little shit. Cutter and I were glad they put some meat on your ass," Stroker continued to laugh.
I continued to shake my head and roll my eyes, that too was a running joke, 'cause I am anything but scrawny at six foot f
our and two hundred forty pounds of nothing but lean muscle with not an ounce of fat. It started when I hit fifteen and had a growth spurt that shot me past my dad and most of the men in the club. I couldn't complain, hell, that's when the bitches stood and took notice. The night the club celebrated my fifteenth birthday was when I got my first taste of pussy and I never looked back.
"Kane, what do you want done with the busted up bike?" Prez whispered just for my ears.
"Store it. I want to work on it myself when I get back. That's all I got left of him. You know?" I still can't believe my dad wrecked. He was a helluva rider and I know how he babied his bike, so there wouldn't have been fucking shit wrong with it.
"Anything for you, Speed," he said and started chuckling once more.
"What so fucking funny, now, Prez?"
"Just remembering your first time on a bike. Thought Cutter was going to beat your ass good for getting that ticket?" My prez is full of himself tonight as he continued laughing.
"Yeah," I joined in the laughter, remembering. I'd barely been sixteen when I got my bike finished. Dad and some of the others had helped me build it. We no sooner got it running and on the road when I was stopped for speeding. "I didn't think he would let me ride after that, but after he finished bitchin' at me, he said the cop was a prick, it was my birthday, and the asshole should've let me off with a warning."
Prez squeezed my shoulder and we went quiet for the moment. I turned back to the party going on around us.
I'm going to miss this place.
"Kane, grab a beer and some food, son," Stroker said, calling me by name as he slapped me on the back.