by CM Genovese
“Yeah?” BP said into his phone as he passed us on his way to the bathroom. “Yeah? Really? Well fuck your mother. His mother too. All of your fuckin’ mothers. And how about next time you don’t do any pussy-ass drive-bys. You know where I hang out. You want to go to war with me? Do it like a fuckin’ man, face to face, or I’ll come back down to that club and shove your forehead up your witch grandmother’s twat.”
“Good God,” Carla said, “the language.”
BP hung up and clenched his fists.
“Pres?” I asked.
“That was our buddy Maxim. I thought he was callin’ to try and deal with me again since I turned him down at his club.”
“And?”
“Turns out their Samoan friend, Bobby, ran back and told the rest of his buddies about us. About what went down at the strip club. Word got ‘round about what we did to the other Russians out in Kituska last year. Bobby and his crew didn’t know that was us. Guess they pussied out on their dealings with the Russians.”
Kituska was a fucking mess. That was where Beezus got hurt trying to save Rain’s girl from a Russian human trafficking ring.
“What does this mean for us?” I asked, reading the concern on Carla’s face. “All that fuck your mother stuff couldn’t mean anything good.”
“He threatened me,” BP said. “Told me he wished he could say things were going to go smoothly from here on out, but we’d meddled in his affairs and he couldn’t let that happen.”
“They’re going to hit my pub again, aren’t they?” Carla asked, scanning the parking lot as if she expected a hit to happen right now.
“I don’t know,” BP answered honestly. “I really don’t. He ended the call by sayin’ the end was coming for the Royal Bastards.”
“So, we hit them first,” I said.
“Not tonight. They’d be expecting that. But I think we should close down shop here for tonight. Carla, you need to come back to the MC.”
“Tomorrow night then,” I said. “We have to hit them hard and fast. You know that, Pres.”
“You and Slitz are fighting tomorrow night,” he reminded me.
“Fuck. Yeah. After then. After the fight.”
“We’ll take it to church tonight once we’re all back at the clubhouse. We’re going to end those fucks all right. We just have to decide how… and when.”
BP looked around once more at the pub and said, “All right, everyone. That’s a wrap for tonight. We can’t risk having anyone here any later.”
A couple of the guys complained. Slitz was one of them.
“I said fucking wrap it up,” BP ordered. “Church is in session in two hours. Hurry and get back to the MC.”
21
“We need to drop a big ass bomb over their entire fucking country,” Slitz said as he shoved a piece of pepperoni pizza in his mouth.
We were sitting around the table, handling business. Right now, that business was all about the threat we’d just received from Maxim. The problem with guys who manage from small offices in the backs of strip clubs is they don’t see the big picture. The big picture was we were about to slaughter his whole fucking crew.
It was time for blood to spill. In the summertime it would flow like a crimson river. In the winter, it was different. If you’ve never seen blood freeze, it looks like strawberry slushy. Hard, gory froth on a snow-white ground. The season didn’t matter. It was about to rain red in the Land of the Midnight Sun.
“Kill ‘em all,” Slitz continued going on about how all Russians needed to be wiped out.
“Isn’t your girlfriend Russian?” Nugget asked.
Slitz’s mouth fell open and chewed pizza nearly spilled out.
“I think she is Russian,” Carousel goaded.
“She’s not fuckin’ Russian!” Slitz yelled, his voice muffled until he swallowed and added, “She’s fuckin’ Polish!”
“I had a Russian friend when I was a kid,” Frostbite, our VP, said. “He was a good kid. His mother was a fine woman. His sister was gorgeous.”
“Your point?” Slitz asked.
“You can’t bomb the whole fuckin’ country,” Frostbite said. “That’s my point. There’s good people there too.”
Slitz ignored him and reached for another slice of pizza. “They’re cold people. That’s all I’m saying.”
“You might want to keep that feeling to yourself for a while,” BP said. “I finally heard back from X down in Charleston, West Virginia.”
“X!” Oosik shouted. “Yes. We need another crazy motherfucker. Is he finally coming?”
“He don’t count though,” Slitz said. “You said he fuckin’ hates the Russians.”
“He flies in tomorrow,” BP replied.
“Did you fill him in?” Frostbite asked.
“Nah,” BP replied. “I don’t want him too excited. Not yet. But I’ll tell him all about it when he gets here.”
“You gonna give him an ulu?” Rain asked, talking about the curved blade we all used.
I once watched Rain chop off a dude’s dick with one.
“Everybody riding with us gets an ulu,” BP said.
Everyone knocked on the table enthusiastically.
“He’s gonna love that,” Oosik said. “He’s a good dude. Y’all are gonna like him. He’d even drink Slitz under the table.”
“Bullshit,” Slitz said.
“He’s half Russian,” Carousel reminded him.
“I don’t give a fuck if he’s half Martian,” Slitz replied. “Can’t drink me under the table.”
“Whatever, man,” Nugget said. “Your Russian girlfriend would drink you under the table.”
“She’s fuckin’ Polish!” Slitz yelled.
“So, it’s settled,” BP said. “The night after tomorrow’s fight, we handle our business.”
“Fuck yeah!” Oosik yelled.
“Pipe, you get Pinky on board,” BP ordered.
I swigged from my beer and followed it with, “You sure about that?”
He stood from his seat, signaling the meeting was over, and said, “We can’t go waltzin’ in there without raising any eyebrows. She’ll be fine.”
“I know what I said about keeping you guys here at the MC, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe you and the kids should go stay with your family back in Nashville,” I said. “Or in New York, wherever you’re most comfortable.”
Tayla was resting with her head on my chest. Caleb and Myra were asleep on a mattress I’d dragged into my room. It was their sense of peace, their ease with everything that was going on that triggered the idea of them visiting someplace else.
“You want to send us away?” she asked.
“These guys we’re going up against… they don’t play around. Last year, they took Cassie and we had to go hunt them down.”
She considered this.
“For how long would we need to be gone?” she asked.
“I can’t imagine it would be too long. Once we hit these fuckers, they’ll crumble. But we need to make sure they won’t retaliate.”
“This is insane.”
“I know it is, baby, but it’s real. You could’ve gotten shot that night at Paddy’s. I don’t know what I would have done if—”
She silenced me with a kiss. It was deep, long, wet, and so full of love. It was all I’d ever wanted.
When she pulled away, she said, “I’ll think about it. I guess I could go see my granny.”
“The kids would probably like that,” I said. “A vacation. Take ‘em to Dolly World or whatever the hell people in Tennessee do for a good time.”
She laughed. “And when I divorce John, will you—”
“We’ll talk about all that when the time comes. We’ve got a long road ahead of us.”
Her head fell onto my chest, my favorite place for it, and I held her there. I hated the thought of her leaving. Since we’d reconnected, we hadn’t been apart at all. She was my constant right now. And I knew I was hers. I loved hard, and she was getting the full brunt of i
t.
“Are you scared?” she asked. “About the fight?”
“Anxious is more like it. I’ve won fights and I’ve gotten my ass kicked. It could go either way.”
“Is he good?”
“They say he is.”
“Can I come watch?”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I mean… you know. With the threat over our heads and the kids. Who would watch them?”
“Jamie would love to see them again. If you’ll let me come watch.”
“Tay.”
“Pipe.”
“Tay, it’s a bad idea.”
“If you let me see the fight, I’ll take the trip to Nashville. If you don’t, I’m staying right here. You’ll protect us. I know that. I’d only be going to see my family so you won’t stress so much.”
“Fuck,” I said, rubbing my temples. She was definitely stressing me the fuck out.
“Deal?” she asked, snuggling up close and kissing my cheek. “You need your woman cheering you on from outside the ring, don’t you?”
My woman.
I loved hearing that. She was right. I stood a much greater chance at winning this fight if she was out there watching me.
“And if I get my ass whooped?” I asked.
“You’ll need me there to kiss your boo boos.”
“My boo boos?”
She giggled. “I’m a mom, remember?”
“I’ll give you a boo boo to kiss,” I said as I rolled over on top of her and pinned her to the mattress.
She laughed.
“Shh,” I said. “You’ll wake up the kids.”
“Our kids,” she said.
I glanced over at the two sleeping bodies. Myra might not have been mine by blood, but she was Tayla’s and that was enough for me.
“Our kids,” I agreed.
My hand slid down into her pajama pants and cupped her pussy. My thumb stroked her clit while my index finger dabbed at her opening, testing to see if she was wet. She wasn’t. Not yet. But she would be soon.
“Come on,” I said as I took her hand and pulled her out of the bed.
“Where are we going?”
“To Slitz’s room. He owes me one.”
Tayla was out there sitting at one of the long tables with Cassie, Cassie’s friend Sue, Toni, Lena, and the women my other MC brothers weren’t afraid to be seen out on the town with. Everyone was there at the table. BP, Frostbite, Carousel, Oosik, Nugget, Beezus, Rain, and even Cracker had left the MC this time. He rarely went out anymore.
One guy I didn’t recognize sat with my brothers. I’d never seen him before, but the big scar on his face told me who he was. Hardy, or X as everyone called him, did look a bit like that actor only bigger and meaner. BP had said earlier he was going to pick him up from the airport.
Slitz was in the center of the ring right now. This was just a boxing ring, not the usual octagon used in most MMA fights. I watched through a set of curtains as he stood there drinking a beer. The announcer, who was a friend of the club named Teddy, spoke into the microphone. “Do we have anyone close to 220 pounds who’d like to step in the ring with Slitz?”
The audience cheered and waited. It was full of the usual college guys, military troops spending their evening away from one of the Anchorage bases, and retired military members. Anyone else was related to one of the aforementioned groups. Not a single man in the place volunteered to take on Slitz.
“Nobody wants to fight this fine specimen?” Teddy tried again.
Slitz laughed, guzzled the rest of his beer, and threw the empty can at a guy sitting ringside who looked to be about Slitz’s weight. The guy stood up.
“Come on, now!” he yelled.
He was clearly military with his high and tight hairdo.
“Fight me over it!” Slitz yelled. “Don’t be a pussy.”
“I’m not fighting,” the guy said.
“Pussy!” Slitz yelled. “We get paid if we fight.”
“I’ll fight you, punk,” another guy yelled as he stood up from his table. I recognized the Samoan as the guy who’d been holding the shotgun the night they visited Paddy’s.
“It’s your jaw,” Slitz said.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” the guy asked as he approached the ring.
Teddy nodded at one of his partners, who rushed to meet the big Samoan with the Mr. T haircut and tattoos covering his face. I knew Slitz packed a hell of a punch, but this guy looked like he could take one. He scribbled his name on the clipboard handed to him and then stepped into the ring where he was patted down.
Unlike Slitz, who wore a pair of red shorts, this guy was clad in jeans and an LA Lakers basketball jersey. He pulled off his shirt and revealed a body that matched Slitz’s. Biceps the size of cannonballs and a torso riddled with ink.
“Looks like we’ll have Slitz representing the Royal Bastards motorcycle club,” Teddy announced as he pointed at my MC brother.
Everyone sitting at our table cheered along with most of the others in the venue. We had quite the reputation. Slitz held one fist up in the air and nodded at the crowd.
Teddy continued. “Versus,” he turned to the large Samoan and pointed a finger at him, “Opa-Locka representing the PSK. The Psycho Samoan Klan.”
The members of Opa-Locka’s gang went nuts. One guy even jumped up on their table and yelled something in a foreign language. The arena only had a couple of security members, more than likely off-duty cops, and they tended to only get involved if necessary. They were getting paid good money to be there but not enough to risk their lives breaking up unruly gang members.
Teddy, who ran everything at the arena, said, “Looks like we’ve got some excited fans. That’s excellent. But please remove yourself from that table or I will have to have you escorted out of the building.”
If it were anyone else, the gang members would have flipped out, but nobody wanted to be eighty-sixed from the Thursday Night Fights. It was the only action-packed night out in all of Anchorage. To be stuck at home while all your buddies were out seeing the battles would suck.
Once the place quieted down, Teddy said, “Let’s get this fight underway so we can move on to our main event of the evening.”
Everyone cheered.
“Slitz, are you ready?” Teddy asked.
Slitz nodded. “Fuck yeah.”
“Opa-Locka, are you ready?”
“Yep.”
Teddy pointed up at the control booth and then rushed out of the ring as the bell dinged signaling the start of the fight.
Slitz stepped into the center of the ring with one glove out. He was trying to be respectful and touch gloves first, which surprised me since he rarely did anything as it should be done. Opa-Locka swatted his hand away and circled Slitz with his hands up in a fighter’s stance. Slitz laughed and bounced back, giving himself some room.
Opa-Locka rushed at Slitz and as soon as he went to throw a loose jab, Slitz ducked, stepped right, and swung his right fist out in a hook that slammed into his opponent’s jaw so hard the big tattooed Samoan stumbled and lost his footing.
Slitz saw it and leapt on him like a shark sensing blood. His fists swung in a flurry of strikes until the Samoan fell down on his ass. Before Slitz could finish the job, Opa-Locka’s head fell to the mat. He was out cold.
The entire fight lasted less than thirty seconds.
Slitz removed his mouthpiece, walked to the side of the ring nearest the Psycho Samoan Klan’s table, and shouted, “One down.”
All the gang members leapt to their feet and charged the ring. One actually made it halfway through the ropes when Slitz nailed him with a big right hand that floored the fucker and sent him falling into his buddies’ arms. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I heard Slitz say, “Two down.”
The two cops on duty rushed toward the fray.
My MC brothers didn’t budge from their table. They, along with all the women, lifted their plastic cups of beer at Slitz while laughing their asses off.<
br />
“Cheers, brother!” BP yelled.
“You like that?” Slitz asked.
Another Samoan made it to the middle rope and Slitz sent a knee right into his chin. Everyone at our table cheered.
“That’s enough!” Teddy yelled into the microphone. “That’s enough or you will all be ejected from the building!”
“Motherfucker!” one of the Samoans yelled at Slitz. I recognized him. It was Bobby from The Sly Paw, that shithole strip club.
He was the one who’d left the Russians because he didn’t want to get involved with us. Yet, here they were, getting into a pissing match with Slitz. I supposed exchanging words at an MMA match was different from crossing each other over drugs and weapons. We wouldn’t kill anyone over something like this, but we’d sure beat the shit out of them.
The PSK were lucky the Royal Bastards didn’t get up from their table. That would have been a nasty brawl.
It took a while to get the Samoans back in their seats, but once they were settled down, Teddy was back in the center of the ring, preparing the crowd for the next fight. My fight. Since I was in the main event, it was treated like a real battle. Not like the one Slitz had been in where he nonchalantly made his way out to the ring, drinking a beer and talking shit.
I had a theme song and everything. Barefoot and in black shorts, I stood waiting for my song to begin.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Teddy said into the mic. “This is the moment you’ve all been waiting for and from what I’ve been told, these two gentlemen have been waiting not so patiently for this moment as well. Coming to the ring right now, straight from Anchorage, Alaska and representing the Royal Bastards MC… Pipeline!”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath as I listened to the crowd go nuts. After seeing Slitz destroy his opponent, there was a lot of weight on my shoulders. Yet, I was about to go up against the reigning champion of Thursday Night Fights. This was my time to finally put this fucker in his place.
The beat hit and ‘Coming Undone’ by Korn blared from the speakers.
Adrenaline surged through my veins and I had to fight back the urge to vomit all over the floor. I loved a good fight, but I wasn’t a fan of doing it in front of an audience. To me, it was something you did out of necessity. It was a survival instinct. We were all just animals who walked upright. We were born with claws and teeth… like all other beasts.