Vengeance MC Box Set - Volume 2: Gage ~ Cash ~ Knight (Vengeance MC series Book 8)

by Natasha Thomas

  I don’t know what his deal is – Callie’s a hot piece of ass who adored him – but Cash claims he’s not interested in any sort of permanent relationship. According to him, indiscriminate fucking is all he’s cut out for, and for the most part, I happen to agree with him.

  Cash is a cold bastard when it comes to women. Most of the brothers have had their fair share of women accusing them of being heartless pigs, myself included, but Cash takes that shit to a whole new level. He’s been slapped, kicked, spat on, one chick even bit him when he told her a single night was all she was going to get. But regardless of the variety of abuse he’s taken over the years, one thing remains constant, and that’s Cash.

  None of the women he’s spent the night with mean anything to him. Honestly, I think he looks at them as warm, willing, easy holes to fill, and much to his disgust, these holes also have the capability to initiate conversation.

  I’ll give him this, though. Cash has a God given talent where women are concerned. I’m positive most of it has to do with the way he looks – Vengeance’s resident pretty boy has practically stepped off the pages of GQ, after all – but the other side of it is that in general, women are attracted to the strong, silent, intimidating, bad boy type.

  And Cash is nothing if not the embodiment of all of the above. However, intimidating isn’t a powerful enough word to describe Cash’s presence when he walks into a room. Fucking menacing should just about cover it, though.

  On that note, I ask,

  “I thought you called it off with her,” with a wide grin, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “I did,” he groans. “But I made the mistake of fucking her last week, and she hasn’t stopped calling for a repeat performance ever since.”

  I scoff at his distress since a woman daring to pick up the phone to ask for a booty call is hardly the worst thing to happen.

  “So you’re going to ask her to do this, why? Your number comes up on her cell, she’s going to assume it’s for a different reason than you calling in a favor, brother.”

  “Yeah, well, you need those reports, and she’s got the means to get them,” Cash states brusquely. “If it wasn’t necessary you can bet your balls I’d lose her number and change mine, but it is, so I can’t.”

  “Get someone else to do it,” I suggest. “I need to talk to Boss about this soon, but I’ve been putting it off until after Diesel’s laid to rest. Ask Sly to make the call, but just tell him to keep his mouth shut until I get a chance to discuss it with Prez.”

  “No can do, Gage. Callie hates Sly more than she hates me most days,” he says, confusing the hell out of me.

  No one hates, Sly. Next to Sarge, Sly is probably the most laid back, easy-going guy you’ll ever meet. Only twenty-six, Sly’s still young; he’s got years to hone the asshole within and objectify women. For now, all the girls love him, commenting on how sweet, considerate, and devastatingly handsome he is. Hence, my confusion as to why Callie dislikes him.

  It doesn’t take long before, Cash answers my unasked question, saying,

  “He was her first.”

  “Say fucking what?” I grumble, my eyes widening at his admission.

  “Shocked the shit out of me too, brother,” Cash grins. “You know me, I’m not usually one to double dip, but she didn’t tell me until I saw her and Sly getting into it outside Hounds one night.” Quirking an eyebrow at me, he goes on to say, “They were young and stupid. Started seeing each other in high school, Sly eventually talked Callie out of her panties and her virginity, then he fucked up when he knocked her up.”

  “So they’ve got a kid together,” I surmise, trying to remember if I’ve ever seen Callie with a child.

  Cash shakes his head and props one of his boot-clad feet on the wall behind him.

  “It wasn’t her time. She was seventeen, and both sets of parents were pushing for them to get married. Callie’s because of the shame she’d bring to the family as an unwed pregnant teenager, and Sly’s because they’re fucking religious zealots. Don’t know if it was the stress of it all or not, but according to Callie, she miscarried at fourteen weeks.”

  “Jesus,” I hiss, all of a sudden feeling devastated for the poor girl.

  If I found myself in the same position, I don’t have the first fucking clue what I’d do, but I do know I wouldn’t be marrying the girl purely out of obligation. Unless it was Aislinn of course. But then again, I’d have married her without her carrying my kid.

  “Yeah, it wasn’t good,” Cash nods. “But if you can believe it, Sly was more disappointed about it than Callie was. To hear her tell it, Sly wanted that baby. He was even willing to go as far as to marry her if she kept it. Callie took offense to Sly agreeing to tie himself to her only for the sake of a kid and told him as much. They fought, Callie got upset, Sly was pissed, and she miscarried. Apparently, Sly thinks them losing their baby is his fault, and he hasn’t forgiven himself yet.”

  “That’s seriously fucked up, Cash,” I mutter.

  “You’re not wrong. But he’s only making it worse by taking every opportunity he sees her to apologize for it.”

  Boss puts an end to our conversation when he bellows,

  “We’re riding in ten. Anyone unclear on the details has five minutes to get their ass to my office to go over them one last time.”

  “Fucking idiots,” Cash snarls heatedly. “Why in the hell he invited those cocksuckers I’ll never know.”

  “You and me both, brother. You and me both,” I sympathize.

  *****

  Vengeance members representing our six other chapters descended on Furnace over the past three days, some arriving as late as an hour ago. The clubhouse and dorms have been full to capacity, the latecomers forced to set up tents as their temporary accommodations, but our brothers scattered across the five states aren’t who Cash is referring to.

  Boss in his infinite wisdom, or not depending on who you ask, sent out a blanket invitation to anyone who knew Diesel to come and pay their last respects.

  Thirty-nine Devil’s Spawn brothers rode into the forecourt in the early hours of the morning after we were told about Diesel. If it were anyone else, Boss would have asked them for more time for us as a club to privately mourn the loss of our VP, but as it is, our clubs are tied together by more than just alliance or mutual respect.

  Blaine, Jonas’ woman, is the daughter of Devil’s Spawns’ Enforcer, Tank. Avery is the daughter of their new SAA, Saint. And Adelyn, Boss, and Diesel’s surrogate sister is married to, Reaper, the club's previous SAA and resident badass.

  Adelyn was inconsolable when she arrived on the back of her old man’s bike. She fell into Boss’ waiting arms as soon as they pulled in, and didn’t leave them until Emily made her presence known. The two of them have been inseparable since, and I for one am glad Ade’s here. Emily and Boss need all the family they can get right now, Ade being the most important part of that.

  The rest of Devil’s Spawn being here isn’t an issue either. In fact, their presence has had the added benefit of keeping some of the members from the other MC’s in line. Eighteen Rioters, most of them from their mother charter in Louisiana, and the twenty-one Destroyers brothers, weren’t the cause of flared tempers either. The same can’t be said for the eleven Hells Riders who rode into the compound two hours ago.

  Camille, better known as, Cami, is the sister of Hells Riders President, Nix. To say our relationship with his MC is tenuous at best would be vastly understating just how fucking dysfunctional it is.

  Besides the truce Boss called after Nix imparted essential information as to the whereabouts of Beth, Avery, and Bec after they were abducted, our clubs have been at war for years.

  Boss’ father, Hog, who died when he crashed his bike coming home from a run, had been at odds with Nix’s dad since they were born. Living next door to each other, growing up with animosity between them, it was only a matter of time before it developed into full-blown hatred. And unfortunately for everyone involved, the MC�
��s both men were Presidents of bore the brunt of it.

  Shootings, stabbings, bar fights, members arrested and charged with inciting riots, you name it, they did it, and they did so under the instruction of their Presidents.

  You’d think that shit would get old after a decade or so, but obviously not. Hog and Lucifer – yeah, that’s really his name – took it to extremes, drawing their feud out until both died at fifty-two and fifty-three respectively. But their deaths didn’t put an end to the rivalry like we’d all hoped; it continued until recently when extended an olive branch with that intel.

  Needless to say, Nix and his brother's arrival wasn’t something we were prepared for, but we should have been. Nix and his sister aren’t tight. Actually, I’d go as far as to say they’re all but estranged.

  A childhood filled with violence, both witnessed and endured, and teenage years lived under the thumb of her tyrant father and asshole brother was bad enough, but when Nix promised Cami to his VP in lieu of a marker he owed, that sealed his fate. Cami would never forgive him, and as far as I know, neither did Diesel.

  It’s not a surprise tensions are running high, and tempers are frayed already, and having Hells Riders on our turf is making that exponentially worse. Planning and executing a funeral fucking sucks no matter which way you slice it, and in this case, it’s no different, but on my part, there’s the extra pressure of having Aislinn in close proximity 24/7.

  Getting Aislinn to acknowledge me, let alone talk to me, should be classified as an endurance sport. It’s a study in infinite patience, perseverance, and reasoning; all of which I have in short supply.

  Here’s an example of one of the three conversations we’ve had since I deposited Aislinn’s ass on the back of my bike and drove us straight to the clubhouse. Granted, I might have pissed her off more by throwing her over my shoulder, giving it a few firm squeezes – just to make sure she didn’t fall and hurt herself, of course – and telling her she couldn’t leave under any circumstances.

  Dropping into the seat beside, Aislinn, I nudged her to get her attention.

  “Are you gonna talk to me yet?”

  Without looking up from the iPad she’s been carrying around everywhere, she deadpans,

  “Does go and suck a bag of dicks count as talking to you?”

  “Not exactly, but I’ll take whatever bullshit you hand me just to hear your voice. I’ve missed you, Daisy,” I murmur, sliding closer to her.

  “Aw, that’s sweet,” she says in a saccharine sweet tone that puts me on edge. “I’ve missed you like I’d miss a rectal exam, not at all,” Aislinn sneered, getting up and walking away glaring at me.

  As I was saying, dealing with Aislinn is an endurance sport because eventually I’m going to wear her down enough to get her to hear me out. I don’t give the first fuck whether she talks, I need her to listen. It’s high time I tell her why I left and why I stayed away. It won’t be today, but soon. Very fucking soon.

  CHAPTER TEN

  ~ Aislinn ~

  “No, you’re not clumsy. You’re as graceful as a ballerina on crack.”

  – Aislinn to Meg while being escorted to a police car handcuffs.

  Biker funerals are something else! I don’t know what that something else is because it’s not as if I’ve been to many funerals in general to draw a comparison.

  I’m torn between wanting to cry at the depth of emotion these huge leather clad men are displaying for their fallen brother, and laugh at some of the eulogies that have been given. However, the crying wins out when a woman Beth told me is Diesel’s girlfriend, Cami steps up to the podium. Not to mention, the toll it’s taken to witness the outpouring of emotion from his mom, Emily, and sister Adelyn. It’s Cami my eyes can’t waver from, though.

  Her long, black hair is limp and lifeless, just like her eyes which have dark purple bags underneath them, giving away the fact she hasn’t slept in days. She’s wearing a simple black dress that reaches her knees, and low-heeled black pumps. But it’s the expression on her face that triggers my tears.

  Never in my life have I seen a person look so ravaged like her heart and soul have been ripped away.

  On the drive to the church, Diesel’s service was held in, and then again to the cemetery, Cami didn’t say a word. She nodded at people who tried to talk to her, and when that became too much, she simply walked away and sat on her own at the end of one of the pews. Cami may have been there in body, but she definitely wasn’t in spirit. That was long gone, it left when Diesel passed away.

  I hope for Cami’s sake that the burial is over quickly because I fear the façade she’s put in place to make it through today won’t last much longer. If I’m struggling to hold it together, I can only imagine it’s a million times worse for her.

  It’s been a long, confusing four days, and I still don’t know why Meg and I are here. When I asked Boss why we couldn’t leave, he said,

  “Lockdown. No one leaves.”

  That was it. No discussion. No details. He merely grunted his response, patted me on the head like a good little dog, and stomped away. On a side note; something I’ve become aware of is that bikers are men of very few words. If they can grunt, snort, scoff, or belch a reply, they do. Full sentences are reserved for special occasions I assume.

  Thankfully biker babes don’t have the same affliction. Over breakfast the morning after I was imprisoned against my will – okay, maybe I’m not imprisoned, but it sure feels that way – Beth, Avery, Bella, Blaine, Adelyn, and another older woman, I learned is Jonas’ mom tried their best to explain the situation to us.

  They didn’t know a lot of the details – apparently it’s normal for things to be communicated on a need to know basis around here – but they shared what they could. And what they told us pissed me off to no end.

  Adelyn communicated that until whoever is responsible for Diesel’s murder is found, we’re restricted to the clubhouse, forecourt, and ample outdoor entertaining space they call the pit. There’s no leaving to go back to our hotel, no supply runs for essentials such as tequila and tampons, and according to Beth, we’ll be here for the foreseeable future, which could be two days or two weeks.

  If there’s anyone unhappier about our confinement than me, it’s Meg. Apart from hating to be told what to do, enclosed spaces, lack of freedom, and internet connectivity that’s been spotty at best, Meg’s settled into the clubhouse remarkably well. The only exception being whenever she sees, hears, or is forced to be in the same room as Jump.

  My slightly psychotic, overly dramatic, man-hating best friend has taken a particular interest in Jump, and when I say that, I don’t mean in a good way. Truthfully, I kind of feel sorry for the guy. All he has to do is breathe within fifty feet of her, and Meg bites his head off.

  At first, I was worried Jump had done something to offend my little drama queen – it wouldn’t take much seeing as she’s so tightly wound at the moment – but alas, it’s just Meg being, well, Meg. Oh, and the itty, bitty I-want-to-bonk-his-brains-out crush she has on Jump.

  A bottle of bourbon, a bowl of popcorn, and a few handfuls of peanuts is all it took to get Whorina to confess her desire to ride the big, bad bikers cock. Frankly, I don’t see what the big deal is. If Meg walked up to him and offered herself naked, or on a silver platter, either or, Jump would be all over that like a hooker is a blowjob for a hundred bucks.

  Unfortunately, one of my many mistakes was saying exactly that to Meg. After her screeching died down, she all but made me pinky promise I wouldn’t say anything to him or embarrass her in any way. Like the good friend I am, of course, I did, but I may or may not have had my fingers crossed behind my back at the same time. You’ll never know.

  Meg’s a strange woman. It’s almost as if she’s still in elementary school with her whole, I’ll-call-you-names-and-attempt-to-humiliate-you-in-hopes-that-you’ll-notice-me behavior. I tried to explain that she’s more likely get a ride on the Jump Express if she shows him the sweeter side to her personality,
but that was mistake number two.

  Laughing her ass off at me, Meg told me I was delusional if I thought she even had a sweet side. As far as she’s concerned, Jump will either see she’s worth all the piss and vinegar or he won’t. There’s no in between with her. Thankfully, Jump seems like the easy going type because this crazy bitch needs someone to balance her out. That or valium.

  “Hey, are you ready to go find our seats?” The heavily pregnant Blaine asks softly.

  We’ve been standing beside the SUV for the last fifteen minutes waiting for the men to arrive, watching a seemingly endless line of bikes wind their way through the narrow roads of the cemetery. There has to be over one hundred of them, at least.

  If there was ever a time I wished I had my camera, it’s now. Gleaming chrome, satin-finish paintwork, Vengeance MC flags flying behind the eight bikes at the front, weathered leather, and the darkened skies threatening rain would make for some amazing pictures.

  Offering Blaine a small smile, I nod.