Inked & Filthy: A Bad Boy MC Romance Boxed Set

by Christy Rose

Garcia looked around at his buddies, grinning. “I'm not sure I know what you're talking about?”

  I glanced at the other Death Merchants. They could shoot me at any moment. I didn't have much time left. “Let's not play games here. We know your gunning for our territory. What can we do to stop this before too much blood is spilled?”

  Garcia scratched his mustache. “How about half your territory?”

  Iron couldn't help but laugh behind me. I turned around and narrowed my eyes at him. He shut up instantly. Iron knew better than to mouth off.

  “Now come on. You know that's not fair. Isn't there something else that you desire. Drugs or money?” I made sure to scan the other Mexicans, looking for any quick movements.

  “We want your territory, Copper. It's that simple. Give us some and we'll be happy.” Garcia grinned like he was my friend. I smiled back knowing his grin wasn't going to last much longer.

  I knew that negotiating wasn't going to get us anywhere. The only way to negotiate with Mexicans was with blood. I scratched the back of my head and stepped aside, giving Big Mike a clear view of Garcia. A shot rang out from far away. Not even a second later, Garcia was on his knees, clutching his neck as blood rained out in spurts. Big Mike not only cooked great burgers,he was a good shot too.

  The Mexicans were confused but we still didn't have any weapons. I had to speak out before they realized that it was us that did it. “I have snipers crawling all over this place and if you even lift your gun, my guys will take you out.” The Mexicans looked around, trying to spot any of the shooters. I actually only had Big Mike out there but they didn't need to know that. “Everyone put your guns down and get on your knees with your hands behind your head.”

  Garcia fell over dead. His blood poured out and mixed with the dirt making a dark mud. The Mexicans did as they were told and dropped their guns. I closed my eyes and let out a sigh of relief. That situation could have gone a totally different way.

  I spoke to the unarmed Death Merchants. “Your leader is dead now. I'm sure your veins are boiling with rage. Revenge will be your only savior. But let me tell you this. If you come after us, only more Mexican blood will be spilled. I hope your next leader is smarter and decides to work with us rather than against.”

  I nodded to the other Firebrand members and we walked past the furious expressions. It was a miracle we made it out of there and back to our bikes. The Mexicans didn't dare move. “You think they're going to let this go?” Iron whispered, putting on his motorcycle helmet.

  “Not a chance in hell. But at least they'll be disorganized with their leadership gone. We better prepare because they're going to be hungry for blood.”

  We rode back to our side of Sacks County, congratulating each other on a huge success. Big Mike was the star of the show and we got him a few whores to share the night with. He deserved it. Being President was so scary but I had the experience to turn the ship in the right direction. If I ever needed guidance, Stone would be there to help me. I was going to need a lot of it soon enough when the Death Merchants came looking for vengeance. I hoped I made the right decision.

  I sat in the meeting room in the dark, my elbows resting on the wood table. The clubhouse was silent after the partying died down and everyone passed out. My brain was on fire and kept me wide awake.

  The Mexicans would be gunning for us now. But now we might actually have a chance to win the war.

  Chapter Eight

  Valerie

  My phone buzzed on the floor next to the sleeping bag, the Beatles song blaring into the quiet night. It was four in the morning and I was still awake. A new place and sleeping on the floor equaled a terrible night's rest.

  I squeezed my arms out of the sleeping bag and grabbed the phone. It was the police station. Must be an emergency for them to be calling at this hour.

  “This is Sheriff White,” I answered.

  “Uh...Sheriff White...it's Officer Moore...” His nervousness bled through the phone.

  “Take a deep breath and tell me what happened.”

  I listened as Moore inhaled sharply. “We have a body here at the junkyard on the east side of town.”

  “Okay Officer Moore, can you give me directions?”

  I ran to the kitchen to find a spare pen and blank piece of paper. Moore rattled off the cross streets. “Be there in twenty,” I told him, ending the call.

  I rushed to the pile of dirty clothes in the corner of the bedroom and began putting them back on. I had no time to sort through moving boxes to find a fresh outfit. I brushed my hair and grabbed my holster and gun on the way out. Ariel meowed at me as I closed the door. “Be back soon, kitty cat.”

  I arrived at the junkyard and an officer lifted the caution tape as I ducked through. The sun was barely creeping up and the birds were already singing. I found Officer Moore pacing back and forth around the body. Before I could get there, Officer Johnson surprised me. What the fuck was he doing here?

  “Can I talk to you for a moment, Sheriff?” His demeanor had changed, his shoulders slouched and head down.

  I walked off to the side with him, still fascinated by Officer Moore's pacing. “Are you ready to come back, Johnson?”

  He nodded. “I wanted to apologize for the way I acted the other day. I was totally out of line. It's just that Sheriff Mendoza was a mentor to me and to have somebody else filling his shoes...”

  I put my hand up for him to stop. “It's fine, Johnson. You can get your badge and gun when we get back to the station. For now, help us out with this body.”

  We walked over to Moore who stopped pacing and cleaned his glasses. “Were the directions okay, Sheriff?”

  “What do we have here?” I asked him.

  Moore put his glasses back on and bent down over the body. “Older male in his early fifty's. One single shot to the neck.”

  I recognized him immediately. It was Garcia who I only met a few days ago. Now here he was, dried blood caked all over him and two gold coins over his eyes. What happened here? I stepped away from the body and strolled around the crime scene.

  A pair of boot prints were stuck in the blood but I knew that would only be a needle in a haystack. A large caliber bullet was found near the head of Garcia. Looked to be from a sniper rifle. I positioned myself where Garcia was most likely to be standing when he was shot. I peered straight ahead and up. An office building about two hundred yards away had the perfect vantage point.

  “I want a team on the roof of that office building over there,” I announced. Nobody moved for a moment until Johnson pointed to two officers and they left the junkyard.

  I went back to the dead body, running through all the possible scenarios in my head. It had to of been the Firebrand MC. A single sniper shot during a meeting but how did they get away without more dead bodies?

  I pointed to the stack of cars. “There might be more dead bodies here. Make sure to check out all the cars before we leave. Also get a statement from the owner of the junkyard.

  Johnson nodded and threw out some orders to a guy standing by the caution tape. Maybe he was going to be more helpful than I thought?

  “What are the gold coins for?” I asked, pointing at Garcia's one eye. “Does the Firebrand MC do this to their enemies?”

  Moore looked dumbfounded. Johnson spoke up, “The Death Merchants do it to fallen brothers.”

  That didn't make any sense. “But what reason did they have to kill their leader?”

  Johnson shook his head. “They didn't kill him. Somebody else did and the Mexicans left the body for us with the gold coins in his eyes.”

  I still had a lot to learn about the gangs in this town. “So instead of taking the body and burying it themselves, they wanted us to find the killer?”

  Johnson picked at his ear. “I've seen it a few times before. It's a way for them to put the heat on their enemy.”

  I circled around the body, looking for anymore clues. “Wouldn't they want their enemy dead? Why get them arrested?”

  �
�Sacks County Prison is the best place to kill somebody. Confined area with loads of lifers who are ready to commit another murder for the cause.”

  These MC's were smarter than I thought. I expected some low-level gang shit but not intricate plans. I was used to gangs shooting at each other until they ran out of bullets.

  “The only one who could have done this was Copper Taylor,” I announced.

  “He's the...uh...new president of the Firebrand MC,” Moore chimed in.

  “Want us to pick him up and bring him to the station?” Johnson asked.

  I shook my head. “No, I'll take care of it myself.”

  Johnson and Moore left me alone with the body. I kneeled down and stared at him for awhile. I knew that I wouldn't be able to pin the crime on Copper Taylor so bringing him in would do nothing. He wasn't the one who pulled the trigger. But maybe the team on the roof would find something? Get me the true killer.

  Chapter Nine

  Copper

  Garcia had been dead almost twenty hours and so far no blow back from the Mexicans. But I knew their plan: wait until our guard was down. It's exactly what I would do. Vengeance only clouds your judgment. So it was time to put the next part of my plan into effect.

  The nightclub Diamonds was empty save for one black girl dancing around a pole on the stage. Her tits were gigantic and fake, just begging to be licked and sucked. A big black bouncer frisked us before letting us in. We already knew not to come armed. That was the only way Byron would see us.

  Iron, Big Mike, and I walked through the club, staring at the chick dancing. She shoved the pole in her cleavage and rubbed her breasts up and down, curling her finger at Big Mike to come over. “You big enough to handle all this?” she asked, pushing her tits together.

  Big Mike nodded with a blank stare. Iron pulled him away. “Holy shit, Mike, didn't you get enough from the sluts we got you last night?”

  “Big Mike always has room for more,” he replied.

  I couldn't help but chuckle as we made our way to the back of the club. Four black guys with assault rifles stood on the second floor, looking down on us. Byron and two of his associates were sitting in a dark booth. One of the associates stood up and frisked us again.

  “They're cool, Wayne, leave them alone,” Byron lit a cigarette between his fingers. “Take a seat gentleman.” Byron was a small guy and about the same age as Stone. His head had a little bit of black hair left and a long scar ran down his left eye. Stone and him used to be big rivals in the 80's until they finally came to a peace agreement that's been in effect ever since. “I was sad to hear about Stone retiring, but congratulations to you, Copper.”

  I nodded. A black woman wearing only a bra and thong came around with drinks and passed each of us a shot of whiskey. Big Mike got a long look at her before she left. There was no way Mike was going to leave here without getting some black ass.

  Byron lifted his glass. “Let me propose a toast, to the continued alliance.”

  I raised my glass and clinked it against the others before knocking it back. The warm liquor was exactly what I needed. I relaxed in my seat as my heart rate slowed.

  “What can I do for you guys?” Byron asked, taking a drag on his cigarette.

  I smiled and leaned forward. “We took out Garcia yesterday.” I collapsed back in my seat and admired the shocked look on Byron's face.

  “We're talking about the leader of The Death Merchants right?”

  I nodded. “The one and only.”

  “Yo bitch, get these men another round of drinks.” Byron started clapping. “I'd kiss you right now if you were sitting a little closer, Copper.”

  “Then I should stay where I'm seated.”

  Byron snuffed out the cigarette on the table. Big Mike had turned his attention back to the stripper on the stage. “So let me guess. You took out the leader and now you want my MC to go in and pick up the pieces.”

  “That sounds about right. The Mexicans will be running around with their heads cut off. Like shooting fish in a barrel. You finish off The Death Merchants and we split their territory fifty-fifty.”

  The waitress came back around and set down a tray of short glasses filled to the brim with whiskey. Byron took a sip and set the glass back down. “Why didn't you tell me about this plan sooner?”

  “When the new sheriff called me in to see her a few days ago, I knew I needed to speed up my timeline.”

  Byron downed his entire glass of whiskey in one gulp. He wiped his mouth and smacked his lips. “Yeah we can take care of the Mexicans. We might need some more firepower.”

  “And you'll get whatever you need. The Firebrand MC is here to help.”

  “Then I have a lot of work to do.” Byron stood up and we followed him out of the booth. He grabbed my hand and pulled me in for hug, slapping my back hard. “You're a crazy motherfucker, Copper.”

  “We'll talk soon, Byron.”

  Iron and I walked towards the exit and Big Mike got lost near the stage. “Oh Byron, is it okay if one of my men stays behind,” I called out to him.

  “He can have all the black pussy he desires,” Byron yelled.

  Big Mike jumped onto the stage and buried his face in the stripper's chest. That man must be a sex machine.

  Iron opened the door for me and I shielded the sun from my eyes before putting on a pair of Ray-Bans. I swung my leg over my Harley 750 and put my helmet on.

  “You think the Blacks can really take out the rest of the Mexicans?” Iron asked.

  I shrugged. “Not sure. But it's a win-win for us either way. When the smoke clears after their bloody war, we can ally with whoever is left.”

  Iron grinned and started his bike. “Sounds like a smart plan, Boss.”

  So far things had gone my way but there were so many cogs working that it was hard to see the entire picture. We rode back to the clubhouse and I settled in the gym. Pumping iron was the only way to keep my mind off things.

  If I thought about the future of the MC anymore, I'd explode. I lay back on the bench press and lifted the bar weighing two-hundred pounds. My muscles ached as I pumped the weights up and down. Sweat pooled on my forehead and chest as I strained with every rep. The pain was the only thing keeping my head clear. The Firebrand MC needed a strong leader but more importantly, a leader who could keep them alive.

  I groaned as I set the heavy bar down. My heart pumped hard and I wiped the sweat from my brow. Time to go to work.

  Chapter Ten

  Valerie

  I spent the night thinking about how I was going to arrest Copper and make it stick. All I had was a hunch—no, more than a hunch, an educated guess that Copper's crew did the crime. But how could I pin it on the President?

  Ariel purred next to me, rolled over and stretched out. I rubbed her belly and she closed her eyes. “What do you think I should do, kitty?” Ariel twitched as she began to dream. Probably about hunting mice. “A lot of help you are.”

  The officers on the roof across from the junkyard found a discarded cigarette with a partial thumb print. I was still waiting back from the lab to see if they found a match. No way it would be Copper, he'd get one of his men to pull the trigger. But it would be a start. Maybe get the shooter to roll over on Copper?

  The next morning I knew what my mission was. I crawled out of my sleeping bag and dressed in beige slacks and a light blue button-up. I pulled my hair back and put it in a ponytail. I made sure my pistol was loaded and holstered it on my hip. Small chance I'd have to use it but better safe than sorry. I scratched Ariel under the chin and said my goodbyes.

  I dropped by the police station and took a squad car. If I was going to arrest Copper, then it needed to be official. Johnson tried to convince me let him come along. “For your protection,” he said. I told him I was a big girl and could take care of myself. I drove over to the Firebrand abandoned warehouse. Nothing screamed criminal more than an abandoned warehouse. A line of Harleys were lined up outside confirming that I had the right place.
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br />   I sat in the car, both hands on the steering wheel, surveying the surroundings. Firebrand members went about their business, ignoring the obvious cop in their midst. They were used to this. I flipped over the sun visor and checked my makeup. “You can do this, White,” I said aloud. “No fear.”

  I stepped out of my vehicle and walked over to the entrance, a hesitant hand on my holstered weapon. Nobody was going to surprise me today. A few members were crouched next to their bikes with tools littered all over the ground. I entered the warehouse and was transported to a nice-looking bar with pool tables. It was ten in the morning and the place was packed. Every barstool was taken and the pool tables were full of activity. “Enter the Sandman” by Metallica was blasting through the speakers.