by L. Wilder
“What the fuck have you got to contribute? The way I see it, you got nothing. I know you ain’t got nobody you know around here. No job. No decent place to stay.”
“How’d you know that?”
He tugged at his long, unruly beard and chuckled. “Hell, I’ve had eyes on you since that first night out at the house, boy. You been staying out at the old Weston place, which ain’t exactly the nicest dive around”—he glanced down at my cup of coffee and plain piece of toast—“and you’re running low on cash.”
Most of the Chosen’s brothers worked blue-collar jobs like mechanics, welders, and line workers. Eventually, they decided to pool their resources and open a shop of their own. Thinking I might be able to use that to my advantage, I said, “Yeah, but I’ve gotta lot of experience with engines. Almost eight years. There’s not a motor I can’t fix. New and old. I’m a hard worker, and I think I could be a real asset in your garage.”
He sat there listening and studying me as I spoke. I wondered if he might’ve seen himself when he looked into my eyes. It was doubtful, but maybe, by some kind of intuition, he already knew I was his son. I’m not sure what he saw, but I could definitely tell the wheels were turning inside his head. A man like him wouldn’t trust easily, not with the men he’s dealt with, but for some reason he seemed to take stock in me. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have asked, “You got a name, kid?”
“It’s Scotty.”
“Okay, Scotty. Are you good at doing what you’re told?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You know, prospecting isn’t for everyone. It’s grunt work at its best.”
“Yes, sir. I’m good with that. I just need a chance.”
He hesitated for a moment, then said, “I’m not making you any promises, but come over to the clubhouse tonight and we’ll talk.” He stood up and as he gave me a disapproving look, he said, “I’m guessing you still know where it is.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And kid?”
“Yeah?”
“Stop calling me sir. You’re making me feel old as shit.” He scowled at me and added, “Just call me Lucky.”
I nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Shaking his head, he walked towards the door. “See you tonight, kid.”
That conversation changed the direction of my life in ways I couldn’t begin to imagine. I got to prospect for my old man and learned that not only was he a good man, loyal and hard-working, but I also discovered that he had a daughter—my half-sister, Zoe. I’d found what I was looking for, and I busted my ass to prove myself to the brothers and to my father. Almost a year had passed, and I’d yet to reveal my identity to my father. I tried to tell him, but the timing was never right. And with each new day, it became harder to come clean about who I really was to him. Now, I’d never get that chance. A few weeks before I was to be patched in, my father wrecked his bike, killing him on impact.
Nothing haunts a person more than the words we’d never get a chance to say. They fester and grow into something they weren’t intended to be—lies and untold truths.
Zoe was devastated. Hell, I was, too. It seemed everything I’d worked for was in vain. Without my old man around, things quickly started going to shit in the club; I was actually relieved that no one knew who I was. I considered leaving, but deep down I knew I couldn’t walk away from Zoe. Whether she realized it or not, she was family, and it was up to me to protect her. I had no idea how bad things would get after I’d made my decision to stick around, but I saw things that made my blood run cold and knew I had to get Zoe the hell out of there, especially when one of the brothers started making claims to her. Slider was a member of the Chosen with nothing but greed running through his veins—a piece of shit through and through. There was little I could do since I hadn’t been patched in yet, but I couldn’t have been more relieved after finding out she’d gotten herself tangled up with one of the brothers from Satan’s Fury.
When they caught wind of what the Chosen were up to, and that Zoe was in danger, the Fury took them down. By the time they were done, there wasn’t a trace of their club or any of their shit left behind. Zoe was finally free, and for that matter, so was I. Once the dust settled, I laid it all out there and told Zoe everything, and when it was all said and done, we’d both found ourselves at the footsteps of the Satan’s Fury clubhouse.
Diesel
One Year Later
Loyalty. Code. Brotherhood. For the longest time, those were all just words to me. When I made the mistake of prospecting for the Chosen, I threw myself into a world of treachery, betrayal, and death, just so I could try and prove myself to a man who didn’t even know I was his son. It wasn’t until I spent a year prospecting for the brothers of Satan’s Fury when I started to understand what it meant to belong to something that was bigger than yourself. It wasn’t easy. Hell, it was one of the hardest things I’d ever done, draining me emotionally, physically, and mentally. I was always on the road, going on runs and following orders, but in doing so, I got to know each and every one of them on a different level. They weren’t just members of some club; they were brothers. With them, I gained a sense of family, and by the time I got my patch, there wasn’t a single one of them who I wouldn’t lay my life on the line for, and there was no doubt they’d do the same for me.
I sat in the truck next to Clutch and groaned while I stretched out my legs, knocking them against the side door. “Damn. I hate a fucking cage.”
“You and me both, brother, but with this weather, we don’t have a choice,” Clutch grumbled and kicked up the windshield wipers, trying to clear the snow and ice from the windshield.
We’d just left Topeka, Kansas and were headed down to Memphis, Tennessee; it was a drive we’d taken many times before. A couple of years back, Cotton, the club’s president, had worked out a deal with several of the other Satan’s Fury’s affiliate chapters to broaden the club’s distribution. Together, they’d created a pipeline for transporting illegal weapons, which had grown bigger than any of them had expected. As road captain, it was Clutch’s job to ensure the safety of the route from Washington to Memphis. In doing so, he had to change up the exchange points with our affiliate chapters in Salt Lake, Denver, Topeka, Oklahoma City and Memphis. Each location had to be off the radar with obscure entrance and exit points, and it was up to Clutch to find them and make sure the pipeline stayed intact.
I had no idea how long we’d been driving when I asked, “How long until we get to Norman?”
“We’ll hit the Oklahoma border in about an hour and a half; it’s another two hours from there.” He looked over to me, and when he noticed the look of agony on my face, he mocked, “I’m guessing with that peanut-sized bladder of yours, you need a break.”
“Peanut-sized bladder? Cut me some slack, man. We’ve been in this damn truck for seven hours, and my fucking ass is killing me.”
“I hear ya. Mine, too.” Over the past year, Clutch and I have spent a lot of time together. As a prospect, I did lots of traveling with him, and while all the guys were great, there was something about Clutch that was just easy. I enjoyed my new role as his right-hand man. He was level-headed and rarely let anything get to him, which was a good thing when you were dealing with the brothers of Satan’s Fury, where opinions were dished out whether you wanted to hear them or not. His ol’ lady, Liv, was pregnant and expecting in the next couple of months, so I knew he was eager to get back—meaning we weren’t going to make many stops. I was relieved when he looked over at me and said, “We’ll pull off at the next exit.”
I nodded and stared out the window, praying for an exit to be close. “You wanna grab a bite to eat while we’re there.”
“Might as well. Then, maybe we can make it to the Wellington exit before we stop for the night.”
After a quick pit stop, we stretched our legs and grabbed some food for the road. It started to snow again as soon as we got back on the road, but we still managed to make good time and pulled into Wellington a few hours later. C
lutch had a few locations to check, and once he’d found a place he felt would suit our needs for the pipeline, we pulled into the parking lot of a small pizza place right next to our motel. After ordering our food and drinks, I asked Clutch, “You met Liv down in Memphis, right?”
“Yep.” He nodded with a proud smile. “Met her at Daisy Mae’s.”
“Daisy Mae’s? Is that a strip club or something?”
He shook his head. “Fuck, no. It’s a diner. The club owns it and the apartment upstairs. While I was there, I stayed in the apartment next to hers, and one thing led to another.”
“Did you ever consider staying in Memphis?”
“Hell, no. It’s a great place to visit, but I wouldn’t live there for shit. I know where home is, and it sure as hell ain’t in Tennessee.”
Even though I’ve only been a member of the club for a short time, I knew exactly what he meant. I’d found my home, and there was no other place I’d rather be. Turning to look out the window, I noticed that it had finally stopped snowing. We still had a long drive, so I was hoping that it would finally clear up for good. As soon as we finished eating, we walked over to the motel and grabbed a room. After a few hours of sleep, Clutch was up and ready to roll. Relieved I wouldn’t be the one driving, I pulled myself out of bed, used the bathroom, threw some clothes on, and started out to the truck.
It was still dark outside when he started up the engine, but it was clear that Clutch was eager to get going. “Do you need anything before we get out on the road?”
“Is this your way of saying that we’re not stopping until we get to Memphis?”
He gave me a small shrug. “It’s only six hours, brother. No sense in wasting time.”
“Just need a cup of coffee, and I’ll be set.”
“You can grab one when we hit the gas station up the road.”
The minute Clutch pulled up to the gas pump, I jumped out and went inside to get us both some much-needed coffee and a bite to eat; by the time I walked out the door, he was back inside the truck waiting for me. As soon as I got settled, he pulled out onto the main road, and we were on our way to Memphis. Clutch was one of those quiet drivers, spending his time focusing on the road or inside his own head, so I spent the first two hours dozing in and out. By the time we hit Arkansas, I was getting pretty restless; my thoughts turned to meeting the brothers from the Memphis chapter, when I realized I didn’t know a lot about them. Hoping to get a better insight to the men I was about to meet, I turned to Clutch and asked, “So, Gus … he’s the president, right?”
“Yeah. He’s a good guy. Reminds me of Cotton. Runs his club with honor, even with all the bullshit that goes on in that town. I also got to know Blaze pretty well when I was working at the shop. The guy works his ass off to keep the place running right. He’s got a kid named Kevin, who he’s raising on his own. His wife died a few years ago, which makes it hard, since his kid’s been sick.”
“What’s wrong with him?”
“He had some kind of cancer, but he’s been in remission for a while now. I think Blaze is worried that it might come back,” he explained.
“That’s gotta be tough.”
“No doubt, but he’s doing the best he can. I’ve kept in touch with him, and the last I heard, they were doing alright.” I could hear the concern in his voice as he spoke, which made me wonder if he was worried about him getting sick again.
“And the others?”
“I really didn’t get to spend a lot of time with many of them.” He thought for a moment, then continued, “There’s Cyrus. He runs the diner, and he helped me and Liv out when that asshole, Daniel Perry, came looking for them. I’m not sure if you heard about that nightmare. Perry’s father and Olivia’s were real estate business partners. In order to fuck up a huge development project, that greedy douchebag, Daniel, killed her folks and was planning on doing the same to Liv and her younger brother and sister, thinking he’d get rid of any witnesses. That didn’t work out too well for him.” He sighed with a disgusted look on his face. “So, I owe Cyrus a lot.”
“I see that, and I’m looking forward to meeting them. So, what’s the plan when we get there?”
“I’ll meet with Gus and go over the changes with the route. I figure we’ll crash there tonight. I want to check in with Blaze and Sam and see how they’re doing. We can head back in the morning.”
“Sam?”
“Sam … well, that’s a long story,” he scoffed.
“All I’ve got is time, brother. Let’s hear it.” Clutch spent the next half hour telling me how Liv met Sam at the diner. At the time, he was a homeless vet, and she had a soft spot for the old guy. Turned out that he had one for her, too, and he’d been keeping an eye on her and the kids, helping them stay safe during that whole fiasco. Not too long afterwards, the club took him in as a prospect, and now he’s a patched member. “Damn. It’s a good thing he was around when that asshole came looking for them.”
“Yeah, there’s no telling what would’ve happened if he hadn’t been there.”
We continued talking for the next few hours, which made the long ride much more bearable. By the time we pulled up to the clubhouse gate, Clutch had told me everything about his time in Memphis, and I felt more prepared to meet the brothers. He rolled down his window when he saw one of the prospects heading over to us. “Clutch and Diesel. We’re here to see Gus.”
He gave us a quick nod and motioned us on through. Clutch pulled up to the front door and parked the truck. I followed him inside, and as soon as we stepped through the door, someone called out, “Clutch! How’s it going, man?”
“Hey, Murph,” Clutch answered as he started walking towards one of the brothers with long, shaggy hair and a scruffy beard. Clutch gave him a quick side hug and a slap on the back as he said, “Good to see ya, brother.”
“We weren’t expecting you until later this afternoon.”
“Made good time.” Clutch smiled proudly. “I don’t reckon you’ve met Diesel. He’s one of our newest members.”
Murph extended his hand as he replied, “Good to meet, Diesel. Did you have a good trip?”
“It was alright, but damn, the snow was really coming down at times.”
“Heard it’s pretty bad up north.”
“Yeah. It’s a hell of a mess, but it cleared up once we got out of Oklahoma,” Clutch replied.
“Hope that shit doesn’t make its way down here. People around here lose their mind with just an inch. I can’t imagine what they’d do with a foot of snow.”
“I think you’re safe for now.” Clutch chuckled. “Hey, is Gus around?”
“Yeah. He’s in his office.” Murph turned and called out to one of the guys at the bar. “Hey, Runt. Clutch is here to see Gus. You mind taking him back?”
He stood up and started walking over to us. “Clutch. Good to see ya, brother.”
“You, too, Runt.” After he shook hands with him, Clutch turned towards me and said, “I shouldn’t be long.”
“Take your time,” Murph told him. “We’ll be waiting for you in the bar.”
Clutch nodded, then followed Runt down the hall. Once he was gone, Murph led me into the bar. When we walked in, the place was deserted, so I assumed most of their guys were like us and worked during the day. Murph grabbed us a couple of beers, and as he offered me one, he sat down behind the counter. He didn’t look like your typical Sergeant of Arms, but there was a fierceness behind his eyes that let me know he wasn’t a man you’d want to get tangled up with. He ran his hand over his beard as he said, “Clutch mentioned that you were new to the club.”
“I am.” I took a drink of my beer before I said, “Got my patch about a month ago.”
“I’ve only been around him a couple of times, but from what I could tell, Cotton is one of the good ones.”
“He is. Proud to be a part of his club,” I told him truthfully. “Some of the best men I know.”
We spent the next hour talking about anything from reconstruct
ing engines to football playoffs, and just as we were finishing our beer, a hot little number came up behind Murph and slipped her arm around his waist. She leaned towards him, whispering something in his ear, and as he listened, a smirk crossed his face. Once she was done, he looked back at her and said, “Not now, darlin’. We’ve got company.”
After his rejection, she turned her attention to me. As her eyes slowly roamed over my cut, a sexy smile spread across her face. “And who is this handsome fella?”
“This here is Diesel. One of our boys from up North.”
“Hi there, Diesel. I’m Jasmine.” In a seductive tone, she continued, “It’s really nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too.”
“Can I get you both another beer?”
“Get us a couple out of the back cooler. Need to restock the one behind the bar,” Murph answered.
“Sure thing, babe.”
Once she was gone, I looked over to Murph and asked, “She your ol’ lady?”
“Hell, no. Jasmine is one of the hang-arounds. Sweet girl, but just like all the chicks around here, she’s too young and naïve for me.”
Surprised by his response, I said, “So, I take it you don’t have an ol’ lady.”
He shrugged. “Hard to find a woman strong enough to tame the beast.”
“Gotcha.” I laughed. “It can be a struggle.”
Before he could respond, Clutch walked in with an older guy sporting a thick, gray beard following behind. Murph looked over to them and asked, “What about it, Prez? Did y’all get the new drop-off points worked out?”
“We did.”
Clutch added, “A couple are a little out of the way, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.”
“You got that right,” Gus answered. “You chose well. Cotton was right to put it in your hands.”
“Thanks, Gus. Appreciate that,” Clutch replied.
“When’s the next run?”
“In just over two weeks. If we …”