Crimson: Satan's Savages MC Book One

by M. L. Beeson

  Draven, shackled to the wall by his wrists and ankles, is currently slumped against the neatly tiled wall, passed out from the blow Rex delivered. I’m sure the mass amount of alcohol he consumed is helping his slumber. I have been sitting here for hours smoking a couple joints, waiting for the piece of shit to wake up. The men standing behind me are getting restless. Rex, Rage, and Farm-Boy are the usual bystanders for interrogation sessions stepping in once in a while to have a little fun after I’ve gotten what I needed.

  Bringing my hand up and flicking it towards Draven, I give my men the cue to wake his ass up, I am tired of waiting on sleeping beauty. Holding five-gallon buckets, the three men walk over and pour the ice-cold water over Draven’s limp body.

  Jolting awake from the arctic temperature, Draven starts to instantly shiver, he’s having a hard time focusing because of how bright the room is. “What the fuck is this shit?” He tries to swing out at us but stops short, there’s little slack in the chains shackling his arms to the wall.

  Standing slowly, I take my time walking over to the pathetic piece of shit in front of me, and kick him in the ribcage. “This is me and the club getting answers.” I laugh at his screams of agony. I kneel down to get in the fucker’s face. “Now Draven, I have a few questions, and you’re going to give me some fucking answers.” I blow a huff of smoke in his face.

  “Fuck you!” He says in a fit of rage as spit flies from the corners of his mouth.

  “Why the fuck was our shit locked up with customs?” I demand.

  “I fucking told you Blade, the driver got pulled in for having expired papers.”

  “That is bullshit! If that were the case, why were my two contacts in customs coincidently taken out?”

  I’m starting to get pissed. Pulling a switch blade from my boot, I hold it so it is pointing straight up at the fucker’s chin. Sliding the knife down slowly zig-zagging it different directions, I make a quick slice on his chest and watch as blood starts to trickle out of the wound. Draven is thrashing against the shackles and howling out in pain. Pussy. This is just the beginning of the pain you’re going to feel.

  “Now, I know you and the rest of the racist assholes are gearing up for war against someone, and a little birdie says it’s us. So, I am only going to ask you this once, why the hell are you fucking with my club?” I lash out, giving Draven a matching wound just about the first cut.

  “Fuck. Shit. Ok, someone said you were selling to the spicks. We don’t take lightly to that shit,” he sputters out.

  Taking ahold of the man’s right ear, I hold it out and with a quick slice I cut the cartilage off of the side of his head and toss it towards the industrial drain. Draven is screaming in pain, trying to bring his hands to the side of his head, but he is unable to.

  “Well now, you don’t always believe what you hear, do you?” I grunt out a laugh. “Who told you we were selling to the Mexicans?” I ask calmly, taming the rage that is trying to claw its way out.

  “You shouldn’t trust those close to you, especially when your motto is loyalty,” he laughs without a care in the world, he knows his demise is coming.

  “Who’s been talking?” I ask, pressing my knife against his stomach.

  “I am not telling you shit, Blade,” he huffs out. With that response I drive my switch blade deep into his gut. His screams are music to my ears. I love the high I get off of the torture and kills.

  Pulling the knife from his gut I point it in his pathetic face. “One more chance, Draven,” I snarl, “who the fuck is feeding information?”

  Shaking his head indicating he isn’t willing to sing. I stab him in the femoral artery in his leg then quickly move and stab him carotid artery in his neck. I step back and watch as the fucker bleeds out. I pull a joint out of my pocket and light it up. I stand there for about ten minutes just to make sure every last drop of blood makes its way out of his body and flows down the drain in the floor.

  I turn towards my men, and eye each one of them. They heard what Draven said about someone within the club feeding them information. I make it a point to assess each of the men standing here with me. It pisses me off to no end that I have a mole in my club. These men are my family and one of them has disrespected me and our brothers within the club. Fuck!

  “Grab a prospect and get rid of this useless piece of shit, I want this room spit shined, not one fucking spec of blood to be found.” Without turning back to them, I head for the door to the stairwell.

  I head out to the yard and find Ginger sitting on one of the picnic tables looking up at the stars. She keeps her focus on the sky, ignoring my passing presence. I am not in the mood to talk to anyone right now but it is late, and she shouldn’t be out here alone.

  “You should probably get inside, its late.” I comment while walking past her.

  “Goodnight, Blade.” Is her only reply.

  The bar is in full swing and everyone is having a good time when I walk into the room. There are hang-arounds, prospects, some members, and of course the club whores walking around naked strutting their goods, dancing to the beat of the heavy metal that is blaring through the surround-sound speakers.

  Walking behind the bar, I grab a few beers from the small refrigerator and make my way to the leather sofa and plop my ass down. Shay is attempting to work the stripper pole that is hidden in the corner, but she can’t work a pole to save her damn life. Seeing her instantly brings back the memory of how well Ginger could dance and use the pole, she has ruined stripping as entertainment for me because none of the women around here can dance like her.

  Taking a swig of my beer, attempting to drown my thoughts of Ginger, I look around the room and notice that Destiny is riding Grizz’s cock, while Melanie is shoving her tits in his face allowing him to motorboat her. I am enjoying the show the girls are putting on, but I can’t help but survey the room and watch my men, looking for anything out of place.

  Knowing someone in this room has betrayed me has put me on edge, even more than normal. I sit and brood over a few beers before deciding I need to hit the head and probably get some shut eye. Heading up to my room, I strip down, and get into bed. It isn’t as warm or as comfy as it was when Ginger was beside me. My mind is starting to swirl, the past assaults my memory as I drift off to sleep reminding me why I can’t have Ginger; she is a weakness.

  My uncle sponsored me as a prospect when I was eighteen. By nineteen I was a patched member of Satan’s Savages. The lifestyle has been good and I’ve had no complaints; free booze, easy pussy, lots of cash, and speed were what I lived for.

  At first the club ran smoothly under my uncle Ax’s rule, but that only lasted a year.

  Ax thought it was a good idea to get into the heroin trade. It was good money, and easy as shit to sling. The slum of the surrounding counties were always willing to make the drive to get our shit. It was the best. Dealing in heroin meant that you had to get it from a source and our source was the Los Santos cartel. They were some of the gnarliest mother fuckers I have met. Taking lives was the equivalent to smoking a cigarette to these guys, they did it with ease and without remorse.

  It was a warm summer evening and the club was sponsoring a booth at the county carnival to raise money for the local old folks’ home. We were known for our charity work and the charity rides we put on in order to keep up with the community and earn everyone’s approval.

  I had been seeing Misty for about a year and she was my world, my life outside of the club revolved around her. I was excited to spend some time with her at the carnival and spoil her rotten, but I couldn’t find her anywhere. Finally giving up, I went back to our booth to help out the guys, might as well be useful. I was almost back to the booth when I heard an all too familiar giggle coming from the area that the porta potties sat. Making my way through the crowd, towards the source of the giggling, I find, Ax, my uncle, fucking my girl up against a tree.

  Without a word, I turned and stomped back towards the booth. When I arrived, I grabbed my backpack and pul
led out the diamond ring I had planned to give her, and told the men to auction it off to raise even more cash for the senior citizen housing. The ring went for a good price, more than what I paid and I was happy to help those old folks who didn’t have much.

  After the carnival shut down for the night, we were all heading to our bikes in the parking lot. I stopped when I noticed that Ax’s bike was gone, not that I gave a fuck, he probably took that cunt home. We all mounted our bikes and pulled out in formation and headed towards the clubhouse. We didn’t make it more than a couple miles before cop cars and fire trucks went flying past us and made the left turn toward the compound. Raising panic, we all grabbed gears and rode as fast as we could to the clubhouse only to find it in shambles, nearly leveled to the ground and the debris was smoldering with fire.

  The fire marshal called the clubhouse a crime scene, stating that they had to investigate the cause of the explosion. The next morning, the police chief can to regretfully tell us that Ax and a woman were killed in the fire. I mourned for my uncle, but I couldn’t help but smile that Misty got what she had coming. Cheating fucking whore.

  After the club started their own investigation, we found out that Ax had been skimming off of the heroin shipments. Fucking idiot. It became crystal-clear that the Los Santos cartel were the ones responsible for blowing up the clubhouse, ridding it of a thief. From that day forward I vowed to never have a habit or weakness that would put myself or the club in danger, I have ruled with an iron fist since being elected president.

  Dozer barged into my room, thankfully pulling me from reminiscing about the past. “Boss we have a situation.” I jump out of bed and grab my pants and boots. I quickly pull them on and follow my vice president downstairs.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  GINGER

  After Rex knocked that asshole out, the night got a lot easier. I served beer, shots, and mixed the women their fruity cocktails, then managed to clean the bar area up. Hours have gone by since I’ve last seen Blade and a group of his men. The night is winding down. Everyone is drunk and enjoying themselves and it has been awhile since anyone has ordered a drink. I could use a few minutes to myself so I decide to sneak out back for a quick break. I find myself sitting on one of the picnic tables enjoying the cool night air. I love that you can see the stars here. I have always lived in big cities and you don’t get the view you do here in Idaho. I have never seen so many stars before moving here.

  I hear someone coming up the outside stairwell that leads down to what I assume is the basement or some kind of cellar. Not turning my attention anywhere but the stars I hear Blade growl that I should go inside because its late like I am some kind of child. Not giving in, I tell him goodnight and continue to gaze up at the stars trying to see if I can find any of the constellations.

  After twenty minutes or so, I start to get cold so I make my way back into the bar. The place has gotten crazier since I left. Shay is trying to be sexy and use the pole in the corner of the place, and I can’t help but laugh because she does not know what the fuck she is doing. Across from her, the dude that goes by Grizz is getting fucked and played with by two women. Gross.

  Blade is sitting on the long leather sofa with what looks to be about four beer bottles in front of him. His eyes surveying the room, watching everyone’s actions. His jaw is set firm, his eyes full of dark and violent promises. His whole aura is dark and radiating through the room. It seems like a storm is brewing and he isn’t far from unleashing it; rage and power are oozing from his pores. I definitely don’t want to be on the receiving end of that shit.

  Walking back behind the bar I don’t see Riley anywhere; he was here when I took my break. He must have got called to do something else. I start to wipe everything down again, and clean the soda machines. One thing I cannot stand is a dirty and understocked bar. I hand out drinks here and there as I continue to clean up the bar. Putting everything in its place, I grab the pen and paper that are attached to the clip board on the wall and I start to take inventory. After writing down the full list of alcohol that we need up front, I walk to the stock room in the back to start pulling bottles.

  I’m reaching for a bottle on the upper shelf with my back towards the door when I hear an overly high-pitched voice and nails tapping on the door frame. “Well look at you, doing all the work not even the prospects do, makes you wonder why you’re here huh honey?”

  Turning around, I see Shay with a big grin on her face. “You know, Blade came back to me. Fucking me every chance he gets. You must have been a shit lay,” she laughs stumbling in her heels and catching herself on the door frame.

  I can’t help but feel bad for her. “You may not like me Shay, but I pity you for how low your self-worth is. Maybe if you respected yourself a little more, one of them would make you an old lady, and not just a whore who is only good to use as a warm hole.” I snicker.

  Not giving a shit and not feeling the need to keep the conversation going, I turn and continue to pull the various bottles of alcohol from the shelves. Suddenly I feel something smack me in the back of the head. What the fuck? Spinning around on my heels I see an ugly red strappy high heel laying on the floor by my feet. Did this bitch really throw her shoe at me? Bending at the waist, I pick up the shoe. “Here you must have dropped this.” I hand her the shoe. I’m not going to give her the satisfaction of getting upset or mad. Instead, I am going to kill her with kindness.

  Shay snarls like a rabid dog and as she is snarling at me, she rushes towards me and tries to claw my face with her hideously long nails. I turn my head to miss her dagger nails and try to move past her. As I pass her and try to walk out the door, she grabs my hair and twists her hand in it, giving herself a good grip. I grab her hand and yell at her to let me go as she tries to claw at my eyes with her free hand. I start yelling and moving trying to get out of her grasp when she starts screaming how I need to leave the clubhouse and that I don’t belong here.

  Having enough with this bitch and her catty tactics, I decide to finally take action. I am already bending over and hunkered in place trying to get her off me, so I reach into my boot and grab my knife. Flipping it open, I grab the handle in my fist and stab the knife down into her bare-foot, pinning her foot to the floor. The bitch shouldn’t have thrown her fucking shoe at me. Lesson learned; hopefully. She immediately lets go of my hair and starts screaming at the top of her lungs, making a few of the members run our way in panic.

  “What the fuck happened?” Farm-Boy demands as he assesses Shay’s foot which is making a mess as her blood pours out of the wound.

  “This cunt attacked me while I was trying to pull inventory,” I huff out, “she threw her shoe at me then attacked me when I tried to leave. She wouldn’t let me go so I stabbed her foot.” I shrug my shoulders, not giving a royal fuck.

  Ignoring the cries of the cunt on the floor I walk down the hall way back into the bar and start to head up the stairs, but I am blocked by Blade and Dozer whom were barreling down the stairs pretty fast.

  “What the fuck? You stabbed her?” Blade interrogates.

  “Keep your bitch on a leash and tell her not to fucking attack me, and this shit wouldn’t happen Blade.” I make sure to click my tongue after his name to show my disgust.

  Grabbing me by my arm, he shoves me into the wall and gets in my face. His nose almost touching mine. “You are going to tell me what the fuck happened,” he hisses.

  Turning out of his tight grip I move past him and start up the stairs. “Don’t worry Blade, I am getting my shit, I will be out of your hair in five minutes.”

  Rushing up the stairs behind me, Blade catches up to me as I enter his room to gather my belongings since I didn’t get a chance to move into Dozer’s room yet. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

  “I will go back to my apartment tonight and tomorrow, then I will catch a bus somewhere,” I say while piling my clothes back into my duffle bag.

  “The hell you are! You’re not going anywhere!” he growls.


  “Newsflash Blade, I am not one of your members or whores, you cannot order me around. I would rather take my chances out there than get harassed here, within these walls!” I scream while pointing out the window. Fuck this shit, I need to get the fuck out of this damn state.

  “You’re not risking it by going out there! Take Dozer’s room, settle your sweet little ass down, and we will figure shit out in the morning. Right now, I am going to call Doc for Shay.”

  Rolling my eyes, I laugh out, “of course you are.”

  Grabbing my shit, I walk out of Blade’s room and into Dozer’s only to find him sitting on the bed. “Oh, is the offer not good anymore?” I hesitantly ask.

  “You’re fine sweetheart, offer still remains.” His smile is genuine.

  Dozer looks as tired of this shit as I am as he runs his hands down his face. “Don’t let that bitch get to you, she has been after the boss for what seems like forever. She is slow at learning her place in the club. You fit in here well, you mind your business, and get your shit done, I don’t think we have ever had such a good bartender. We sure miss you at Dirty Devil’s but you belong here.”

  He takes another deep breath and says. “Don’t give up on the club yet, we may be pretty rough on the outside but we are softies on the inside and we all would hate to see something happen to you because you left. Take the night, get some rest and sleep on it,” he instructs as he stands and heads for the door, leaving me alone.

  After what seemed like hours of staring at the ceiling pondering Dozer’s advice, I was finally able to get some much-needed rest. I wake up about ten o’clock a.m., get dressed, and brush my teeth. Looking in the mirror, I look tired. You can tell by the big purple bags under my eyes, maybe it is stress. Whatever it is, I look like hell. At least my outfit it cute, I am wearing a red tank top that zips up the front, a dark pair of form fitting skinny jeans, and my black chucks.