Teller (Tarnished Souls MC Book 4)

by Dusty Lassetter

  “You kicked him out?” I look to Buck to answer the question. I want to hear him say that he turned his back on a brother that still took the fall for his VP afterwards. I need him to admit he was a coward that acted on emotion instead of logic.

  “I made a mistake,” Buck finally declares.

  “Then fix it,” I calmly state despite my anger wanting to rise and allow my tongue to make his ears bleed. “My brother is in prison with no one there to have his back. You fed him to the fucking wolves and you know it.”

  “Your brother has more power than you know, Saint.” Hammer finally interrupts allowing his voice to be heard among the other bikers. “He was asked to be the new president of the Blacktop Sinners MC, and he accepted.”

  I don’t accuse him of lying because I can hear the truth in his voice. Shock is the first thing I feel after hearing his words. I’m surprised that a club would ask the man that slayed their former president to become their new leader. Perhaps, the way my brother brutally murdered Slasher inspired the members in a way no one else could. If there is one thing that will always be true, it’s to have the biggest and baddest on your side.

  “You remember what I told you guys when I agreed to be your enforcer?”

  “Your bother goes where you do, and vice-versa,” Buck replies knowing exactly what I will say next.

  “The minute you asked for his patch you asked for mine as well…”

  “Most sacred heart, he accepts from your hands, whatever kind of death it may please…,” I begin my prayer while the man kneeling before me continues to cry and beg for his life. He is another one of Slasher’s men that has been flying under the radar until now. I don’t know how many members I am going to have to kill before these stupid bastards get the hint and leave the club life behind. I would still hunt them down and rid the world of their evil, but a good chase would be more entertaining.

  “I’ll pay you,” he whimpers over my voice. “I have money. Lots of money.”

  “…you to send him tonight. With all its pains, penalties, and sorrows in reparation for his sins, for all those souls who will die tonight, and for your greater glory.”

  The silencer on the gun allows me to put a bullet in his head without his family waking up in the next room. Some people might think it was wrong for me to kill this man and leave his body where his kids and wife will surely find it. I, however, believe it was the appropriate thing to do. His twin boys are thirteen years old. They needed to be taught a life lesson. The still images of their father raping and beating on women and children I’ve placed around the room should suffice. After tomorrow, I will know I have at least scared two boys straight. Seeing the repercussions of their father’s actions will forever be burned into their brain.

  Walking out of the house, I am feeling confident that I will be able to make it back to the shitty clubhouse I now call home before Marcus does. I want to be there to greet him, and to make sure no harm came to him while he was away. The protectiveness I feel towards my baby brother will never lessen, and it’s an emotion most people don’t understand.

  “Don’t you fucking move.”

  The sound of a woman’s sweet voice doesn’t match the venomous words she so easily spits out. I can hear the sound of her cocking a gun before she places the steel barrel to the back of my head. At first, I freeze from shock. Someone has obviously been watching me. There is nothing worse than having your ego shot down, especially by a woman. All men feel this way, whether they admit it or not. So, to show not only myself but her as well that I still have balls I do the opposite of what she says. I begin to slowly spin on my heel before coming face to face with a woman so hauntingly beautiful I almost forget how to breathe.

  I allow my eyes to greedily devour all the amazing features that would put Aphrodite herself to shame. The first thing I notice is her honey brown hair that is so long it drapes down her siders before finally coming to an end at a set of hips so luscious they would be perfect to use as leverage while fucking her from behind. The thickness of her body is what I find most attractive. There is nothing better than the taste of huge tits in my mouth.

  “Karma is a bitch,” I groan while slowly making my way toward her eyes. When we lock gazes, there is no confusing her fear for anything else. Here I am, an unknown man in her house being held at gunpoint while eye fucking the shit of her.

  “I’m calling the police,” she announces while trying to keep the gun pointed at my head and get her cell phone to start dialing. Without thought, or concern for my safety, I swat the phone from her hand. While she is still reeling from the shock of me attacking her, I grab the gun and easily pull it from her grasp.

  “Calm down,” I soothe to her. The absolute terror glittering in her cloudy grey eyes is more than enough to make me feel like a sorry piece of shit. I can tell she wants to break down and cry, but a quick glimpse at the bedroom her boys are in, and she should be in, is more than enough to steel her nerve.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” I declare. Trying, but failing, to once again ease away her worries. When I move to take a step toward her, the woman’s limbs start shaking so much I fear she is about to pass out from fear and shock. So, instead, I take two steps backwards and place the gun I took from her on the entryway floor. “You never saw me. This never happened.”

  I must be a crazy bastard to leave my fate in the hands of a woman that already threatened to kill and call the police on me, but that is exactly what I do. There is a tightening in my chest that won’t go away until I give her the peace of mind she deserves. I didn’t come here to hurt anyone but her sick and twisted husband. Just as I am walking out of her house, I swear I hear a whispered “thank you.” I don’t know what she is grateful for. Maybe it’s for keeping my word and leaving her unharmed, or maybe it is from me ridding her of the ugliness that was her husband. I saw the bruises covering her arms and neck. Just knowing I might have saved her from another beating has my blood pumping with confidence once again. Something tells me this will not be the last time I see McKenna Ward.

  Teller

  The first thing I do when I get the out of hell hole I’ve called home for the past two years is go straight to the dump that will be my new residence. The Blacktop Sinners’ clubhouse sits on twenty acres in San Saba, Texas. The house itself is not very big. Mainly because most of the floors are rotted out and some of the walls have black mold growing on them from the floor up. There is only one thing to do with something as bad off as this house is. Burn it down and build a new one. Which, thankfully Saint, my brother and VP, has already begun doing. By the looks of it, the new steel building we will be moving into is only a few short weeks away from completion.

  “All my officers need to stand,” I command to a room full of men that are all here to meet the president they voted in on a whim. There was only one person I would visit with while in prison, and that was Tate. Saint had tried, countless times, but my brother is still not one hundred percent healed. If there was ever an emergency while he was there talking to me through the glass I wasn’t completely confident he could keep himself safe. He lost a lot of muscle mass and strength while he was in the coma. Hopefully, when he returns from his latest run we will be able to get back to the way we used to be.

  One by one, a total of four men, including Tate, rise to their feet. Saint was the man that ran the show in my absence, and judging by the demeanor of the men he did exactly what I knew he would. Looking from Tate, who I know to be the treasurer, I move to the man standing a few feet from him. He is bald with an arrangement of colorful tattoos running up his neck. Stopping halfway up the sides of his head. His green eyes are piercing into mine, and there are a few scars on his left eyebrow causing the hair to grow in patchy around the area. He is at least six-foot-one, and two hundred and twenty pounds of solid wall. Hitting him would be like hitting a mac truck.

  “Pain,” he grumbles. “I am the club’s enforcer.”

  Moving onto the next man, I come face to face with someo
ne that has his head turned to the side examining me as much as I am him. The look on his face would scare any other biker that wasn’t as fearless as me, but unlike most I’ve looked into the eyes of the devil and lived to tell the tale. His shaggy brown hair reminds me of a hairstyle I recognize, and the minute he says his name the puzzle pieces lock together.

  “Myers,” he announces. “I am the sergeant at arms.”

  The way his head is tilted, and his hair, leads me to believe the man standing before me was nicknamed after Michael Myers. The famous serial killer that refused to die. Well if the guy staring at me with his dark grey eyes is immortal his spot in our club just became permanent.

  “My brother, your VP, chose you guys for a reason. If you disappoint, you’ll answer to me. For the rest of you, I was voted in to lead this club and that is what I am going to do. If you can’t follow me, get the fuck out. Until further notice, my word is law.”

  With that said, I walk off to find the room I made sure Tate would have ready for me. It’s one of the bedrooms closest to the kitchen. The location isn’t exactly great. No one wants to be woken up countless times from hungry or thirsty men. Especially when I am now wired to fight first and ask questions later. Here’s to hoping everyone stays sober enough to know my door doesn’t lead to the kitchen.

  “That went well,” Tate mumbles as he follows me into the small area I will call my office and sleeping quarters for now. The place is dusty and has a funky smell that not even my ten by ten cell had. It’s like having a sweaty sock pressed against your nose at all times.

  “How much is in our account after we finish with the new clubhouse?”

  “At the top of my head, I would have to say thirty thousand.”

  Sitting in the only chair that is in the room, I start rubbing my temple to try to rid myself of the headache that is threatening to take hold. Running a club isn’t cheap, especially if you want to be a part of a MC that is worth a shit. How these men have survived this long is beyond me. We need a plan. Thankfully, I have one.

  “Do they know?”

  Without having to say it, Tate knows exactly what I am asking. Slasher didn’t have any family to leave his money to, but he did have a last will and testament. Tate is the executor of that will, and Scarlett is the sole recipient of all the cash Slasher stole from the club. None of the money he made while being president and selling innocent women went toward the MC. He was a greedy bastard, and left everything he had stolen to the woman he was obsessed with. The woman I have a claim over.

  “I thought it would be best if you told them.”

  “That will have to wait. Right now, I want a list of the men that haven’t paid their dues. Let everyone from here to Austin know that we are throwing a party tonight and hang arounds are welcome. Maybe some of them would like to become prospects and actually pay to play.”

  “On it,” Tate replies already walking out of the room to give me the privacy he knew I would want.

  It’s been over two years since I’ve been able to get balls deep in pussy, so tonight that is going to be my main focus. I wonder if Krystle is still working at the Honey Hole? That is something I will definitely have Tate look into. While I would enjoy breaking down Scarlett’s door, there are some things I am going to have to handle with kid gloves. I can’t just throw her in the deep end and hope she learns to swim. I will have to inch her into the water one kinky meeting at a time.

  A theatrical knock on the door, followed by someone entering without waiting to be told, kicks all thoughts of women and their wonderful playgrounds out of my head. Saint, my brother, Junior, comes sauntering into my makeshift office like he owns the place. In a way, he does. What’s mine is his and vice-versa. His appearance is much better than it was the last time I saw him. His hazel eyes are filled with life, and so are the tattoos that were once fading in color. Saint could use a haircut, just like mine, it has grown out longer than I ever remember seeing it.

  “Holy Hell, it’s the demon destroyer, zombie creator, evil son of a bitch everyone has been worshiping. It’s good to see you mi hermano.”

  Without replying to his over dramatic nickname chain, I quickly rise to my feet and wrap my brother in a masculine hug. Him standing before me, looking at his golden skin, and seeing the goofy smile on his face he’s always worn causes my chest to fill with relief. When I was told he was awake, I initially thought someone was trying to fuck with my head. Then, Tate gave me a number to reach him on. Hearing his voice through that small plastic piece was like being told I had won the lottery.

  “No need to get emotional, bro,” Saint jokes while pulling back. Just like my eyes, his are becoming glossy with unshed tears. We are men, dangerous men, so regardless of how emotional we feel about our reunion, we square our shoulders and silently threaten the feminine tears to take a hike.

  “Things aren’t looking good,” I state, deciding the best way to show how manly we are would be to get straight to work.

  “No shit,” he replies following my lead to talk business. “There are only a handful of men out there I think we can fully trust. Slasher’s venom was more widespread than we originally thought, but I do have a bit of good news. Fluffy and Canine from our old crew are on their way to the clubhouse as we speak.”

  Saint is referring to some of our old acquaintances. Those were just two of the men we used to sell drugs with back in the day. Apparently, my brother has also figured out that we are in need of some cash, and what better way to get that than to get back into the game we once ran. If being a Tarnished Souls member taught me anything, it’s that not everyone is cut out for the law-abiding citizen life. I was born to be a criminal, and so was Junior.

  “Any serious trouble with another MC?” I ask, knowing I don’t have to say their name for Saint to know who I am talking about.

  “I have not seen, heard from, or passed by any member from the Tarnished Souls since I told them I was changing the colors I wore on my cut. There is a silent truce between us, for now. How long that last depends on why you asked me that question.”

  “We need to have Fluffy and Canine open up another chapter in Dallas. We need more members. “

  It won’t be too hard for us to convince the two to wear our patch. They once shared a tent with us when we were all homeless. Plus, I had heard things were better for them in Dallas now. Fluffy got married and inherited all his father in-laws’ contacts. Contacts we could use to get our club in the business of making dirty money by selling cocaine.

  “I’ve known you your entire life Teller, and I know what you are thinking about doing. You’ve got that look in your eyes. The one that tells me someone is going to suffer.”

  There is a slight change in Saint’s tone, like he is worried about what I may decide to do. I know it wasn’t hard for him to choose me over the Tarnished Souls MC, but they were still his friends. Hell, some of them he considered family. However, I am his true blood and he would never have turned his back on me.

  “I’m going back to get her. There is nothing you or anyone can do to stop me,” I declare with finality seeping through my tone. Scarlett is my woman. It’s that simple, and anyone that wants to argue with me about it will have to talk to the ends of my blades as they are shoved down their throat. I will get her back, with or without my club’s approval.

  “I can’t believe that sweet redhead has managed to thaw the ice around your heart. What will you tell the men? They will want a reason for another potential war to begin with Tarnished Souls MC.”

  “They will have two million reasons why when they hear she is the person Slasher left all his money to.”

  “Are you prepared to fight with a club we once vowed to die for?”

  The answer to his question is simple. “Yes,” I reply while looking in his eyes so he can see the truth in mine. “The moment they asked for my cut was the moment I became no one to them. My loyalties are with you and Scarlett, brother. No one else.”

  “Then we dive into this together. I’l
l have your back until you can manage to get Scarlett on hers.”

  I don’t bother laughing at his ill-placed joke. It does lighten my heart to see that the coma didn’t change who he was, but in a short while we will have a house full of men we don’t exactly trust. There is one sure way to rid our club of the rats, and Saint is going to help me.

  “I need you to do something for me tonight,” I mumble. “I need you to pick one of the men you don’t trust out of the group later.”

  “I have a feeling I will need to be wearing all black tonight,” Saint says with a sadistic look on his face. He is just as depraved as me, the only difference between us is he knows how to turn it off. I however do not.

  “Unless you want to stain your white clothes with someone’s blood. It’s time I remind these men what I do to men I don’t trust.”

  Scarlett

  It’s been three weeks since I’ve received a letter from Teller. It’s sad to think that his words, no matter how many are on the page, seem to be the only thing I look forward to anymore. Interestingly enough, a paragraph explaining in detail of how he made one of his latest enemies suffer is the only thing that puts a genuine smile on my face. Am I just as depraved as him? Has my past had that much effect on my future?

  Night after night, I work my butt off in the new diner Buck opened up just on the outskirts of Brady. I bus tables, I cook meals, and I even fix some of the appliances that break on any moment’s notice. Then, I come home to an empty house, now that Sammy has moved out, and eat the stale food I have brought home with me. After which, I curl up on the couch and read Teller’s letters until I can no longer keep my eyes open. I love knowing he is still out there fighting the fight everyone else has all but abandoned. It’s not the Tarnished Souls MC’s fault for giving up on the vengeance they wanted past Slasher. Now that Teller is the Blacktop Sinner’s President, and Saint is his VP, Buck has ordered his men to back off. As long as Teller and Saint stay on their side of the invisible line there will be no war between the two clubs.