Spike: Satan's Disciples MC

by Zoey Parker

  Spike walked into the kitchen. All of the pots and pans were empty, and everyone at the table looked well-fed. He pouted, thinking of the missed food, and his stomach grumbled.

  Someone tapped Spike on the shoulder and he turned around. It was Tiny, holding a plate full of sausage, hash browns, and scrambled eggs. Spike couldn’t help it; he hugged Tiny, his arms barely fitting around the large man’s middle.

  “Easy there, boss,” Tiny laughed, patting Spike on the back with a meaty paw. “I made sure to keep some on the side for ya.”

  Spike sat down, shoveling the food in his mouth. A shadow fell over him and he looked up. It was Cleo.

  “Can I eat first?” he asked her, irritated.

  “Absolutely,” Cleo said, patting him on the back. Spike eyed her, dubious, but went back to eating.

  “Hey, everyone,” Cleo called loudly. Spike swore, throwing down his fork. “Spike’s busy eating, but he wanted me to tell you all that we’re going to be attacking Ivan and the Russian mob. With no plan!” she added brightly.

  Immediately, the kitchen broke out into anarchy.

  Hector whooped loudly. “Dios mio, finally!” he cried.

  “Is that a good idea?” Tiny asked fretfully. “Ivan and his men outnumber us almost two to one.”

  Spike glared at Cleo. “Was that really fucking necessary?”

  “Yes, Spike!” she exclaimed. “It’s necessary for your gang to know what’s going on! Especially if you’re counting on them to have your back!”

  He let out a half groan, half growl, and stood. “Alright!” Spike roared over the din, standing on his chair to silence the crowd. A dozen pairs of eyes turned to stare at him.

  “Yes,” Spike said with conviction. “Last night I decided that enough is enough! It’s time for Ivan and his mob to go back to Mother Russia.” He looked around, making sure to look each and every one of them in the eye. “They think that this is their territory, and I think it’s time to show them otherwise.”

  Cleo scoffed loudly, but no one heard her. They were too busy listening to Spike.

  “Some of you are scared. You’re worried that Ivan is too strong for us.” He glanced at Cleo, who scowled at him in return. “I’m here to tell you that when it came down to it, going after Ivan was an easy decision to make. That’s how much faith I have in us, in Satan’s Disciples,” Spike continued, his voice rising in both pitch and volume. He punched his palm with his fist, emphasizing his words. The members began to excitedly press closer to him. “We, who were born in hellfire! We walk through life with the Devil on our right, and Death on our left! We are Satan’s Disciples, and we will burn all those who stand in our way!” Spike was shouting with all his might; the crowd had worked itself into a frenzy.

  Despite the fact that it was ten in the morning, bottles of whiskey and cans of beer immediately began to get passed around, everyone cheering to Ivan’s imminent end, and the inevitable rise of Satan’s Disciples.

  Spike hopped off of the chair, shaking hands and clapping backs with his members, promising to celebrate with them soon. He tried to slip out, but Cleo caught him at the front door.

  “I couldn’t help but notice you didn’t mention any sort of plan, or the fact that the reason you changed your mind about Ivan is because of a cager,” she said matter-of-factly.

  “Why don’t you go tell them,” Spike said, shrugging on his leather jacket. “You seem to enjoy talking about shit you don’t understand.” He was rapidly losing patience with Cleo and her jealous attacks on him. How did she expect a man like him to be faithful to one woman?

  His father hadn’t been; in fact, the first time his father had ever beaten his mother was because his mother just wouldn’t leave his father alone about the other women he was seeing. Spike knew he wasn’t a good man, but Cleo was lucky he was a better one than his father had been—barely. Spike didn’t presume to think murderers ranked much higher than woman beaters in the eyes of God.

  “If I don’t understand something, then why don’t you fucking explain it to me,” Cleo shot back.” Cleo could not for the life of her grasp why leaders always thought they were protecting people by keeping them in the dark. No matter what Spike had said in the kitchen, Cleo thought Spike didn’t have very much faith in them at all if he couldn’t tell them what was going on.

  “Look, Cleo. I don’t have time for this right now,” Spike said, pulling on his boots. “I’ll be back later.”

  “Oh, you don’t have time to hash out a real plan with us, but you have time to spend all night with some civilian?” Cleo asked bitingly.

  “Enough!” Spike bellowed. The party in the kitchen died down for a second, startled by the outburst, but then immediately resumed. “Not that you deserve to fucking know, but I’m going to get some intel on Ivan. We can’t make a plan without any information.” He threw open the door, pausing to look back at Cleo, who stood with her arms folded and her eyes pointed at the floor. Spike sighed, the anger rushing out of him.

  “I know you’re just trying to help, Cleo. But you are so far up my ass, I can’t even sit down to ride my bike. I’ll be back later and we can talk plans then.”

  Cleo stepped forward, and Spike unconsciously pulled away from her. He knew she wanted a kiss, but he was feeling less than affectionate right now.

  “I’ll be back later,” he repeated as he hurried out the door, slamming it firmly shut behind him.

  ***

  As the morning came and went, the bright afternoon sun slowly began to make its way across the sky, filtering through the tiny crack in Georgia’s pale blue curtains, beaming straight through her eyelids.

  Georgia stirred, the shining light disrupting her sleep. She opened her eyes and immediately regretted it. It felt like her corneas had been burned away with a hot poker. Her head throbbed, and she groaned aloud.

  “Uhhh….” Arduously pushing herself into a sitting position, Georgia took stock of her surroundings.

  She was in a dark room. Georgia pushed her hair out of her face. The whole place instantly brightened and took shape. She was in her bedroom.

  Breathing a sigh of relief, Georgia carefully stood up, one hand to her aching head. She didn’t think she drank that much last night, but apparently the drink Hawg Ear was so named because your tongue felt like one the next morning.

  “Spike?” Georgia called, wincing at the volume of her own voice.

  She reached behind her to grab the top sheet, wrapping it around her naked body as she shuffled over to the bathroom door. Georgia knocked gently, but the door wasn’t shut and swung open—no one was inside.

  He’s probably in the kitchen, Georgia figured.

  After a night like that, who wouldn’t be hungry? She was ravenous, which meant Spike was to the point of starvation. Unfortunately, if he was trying to scrounge up something to eat, he was going to find himself shit out of luck. Georgia’s fridge was practically empty.

  She hurried to the kitchen as fast as her hangover would allow. “Sorry, I don’t have anything,” she said as she rounded the corner. “I meant to go grocery shopping…” Georgia stopped, realizing she was speaking to an empty room.

  She turned in a circle, double checking to make sure she hadn’t somehow missed him in her six-hundred-square-foot apartment. “Spike?” she called once more.

  Georgia peered out one of the bullet holes in her front door—a new, custom peek-hole courtesy of Ivan. Spike’s motorcycle was gone.

  Must have taken one look at the kitchen and gone out to get breakfast for us, Georgia optimistically thought, even as her stomach sank. She hobbled back to her bedroom to put on some clothes.

  As she was pulling a tank top over her head, Georgia heard a loud pounding coming from the front of the house. Thinking it was Spike, Georgia hurriedly went to answer it.

  She slowed suddenly. What if it was Ivan? Georgia bent into a crouch, and cautiously snuck over to the door, peeking through one of the lower holes in it.

  It wasn’t Spike or Iv
an; it was Stacy.

  Georgia watched as her friend raised her fist to hammer the door again. She quickly shot up to quickly to open it, almost getting punched in the face in the process.

  “Come in, come in.” Georgia ushered Stacy inside where it was safe.

  Stacy said she was okay taking the risk, but Georgia didn’t see the need to hang around on front steps chatting, completely open and vulnerable to a certain Russian mobster who might decide he was tired of waiting around, and that today was a good day to go for a ride his car with an AK-47 hanging out the window.

  Georgia shut the door and turned to look at Stacy. “Do you have any food?” was the first thing out of her mouth.

  Stacy’s jaw dropped and she stared at Georgia. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Stacy asked. “After the shit you pulled last night, the first thing you do is ask me for food?”

  Georgia grimaced. “I’m sorry, but I’m really hungry.”

  She knew it wasn’t cool of her to be making requests from Stacy right now, especially when she was already doing so much to help Georgia.

  “Well, if we had gone home together like we had planned, I could have driven you to get breakfast this morning,” Stacy replied scathingly.

  Georgia felt bad, but she was in no mood to be yelled at right now. Her head and stomach felt like they were joining forces against her in an effort to make her life hell. “You’re pretty upset for someone who didn’t even seem to notice I was missing.”

  Stacy froze. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means,” Georgia began, growing angry, “I was gone for almost an hour, and when I get back, you were hooting and hollering, having a grand ol’ time with them! You had no idea where I was, and you were having too much fun to care—as usual.”

  Stacy was always trying to drag Georgia out to clubs and parties, saying Georgia worked too hard and needed to learn how to relax. However, these outings more often than not resulted in her abandoning Georgia to find a taxi home alone while Stacy caught a ride with a handsome stranger.

  “What did you want me to do, Georgia?” Stacy cried. “I’m in a biker bar, surrounded by people who wouldn’t think twice about murdering me, even if they didn’t know we were lying. Did you want me to completely freak out and demand you stay right there next to me?” Georgia looked at her feet. “I was terrified for you, Georgia,” Stacy said, putting her hand on Georgia’s shoulder. “You went into that back room all alone with that man, and then suddenly you were gone. I didn’t know what had happened to you, or what to do, so I stuck to our plan and I played the role of rowdy, partying biker babe.”

  Georgia hung her head. “I’m sorry, Stacy. I didn’t mean to leave you.”

  “Then why did you?” Stacy pushed. “What happened in there?”

  Georgia bit her lip, avoiding Stacy’s gaze. Suddenly, in the bright light of day, the harsh reality of what she was doing hit her full force. She burst into tears.

  Slowly, with many tissues and much coaxing from Stacy, Georgia told her how she had desperately pleaded with Spike for his help. “I told him I would do anything,” she said, sniffling. “He asked me if I meant…you know, anything, and I said yes.”

  Once again Stacy found herself with no idea what to do or say, except this time she didn’t have a character role to fall back on. She didn’t want to be judgmental, but Georgia was being incredibly reckless, and Stacy didn’t think she fully understood the gravity of the situation.

  Georgia was a little more reclusive than most, having often experienced the negative effects of partying secondhand from her father and brother. While that withdrawn lifestyle had protected Georgia from a lot, Stacy wasn’t sure that was a good thing in this situation. She worried it wasn’t in Georgia’s nature to even consider the possibility Spike might just screw her and then screw her over.

  “I see why you felt this was your only option, Georgia,” Stacy began carefully. “I’m just not sure if you’ve entirely thought this through.”

  Georgia frowned, puzzled. “Why do you say that?”

  Stacy hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. Thankfully, she was rescued by the sound of Georgia’s phone ringing in the other room. Georgia gave Stacy a long look, then hurried into her bedroom to retrieve her phone.

  Walking back to the living room, Georgia looked at the number on the screen. It was an unknown caller.

  “What if it’s Felix?” Georgia said hopefully to Stacy.

  “What if it’s Ivan?” Stacy countered.

  Georgia bit her lip, then tapped the answer button. “Felix, is that you?”

  “Yeah, it’s me, Joja.”

  Relief swept through Georgia’s body at the sound of her little brother’s voice. She nodded, answering Stacy’s questioning stare.

  “Where are you? Are you okay?” she asked frantically. “Why didn’t you call me from your cell phone?”

  “I had to ditch my phone; Ivan has Nicholas trace them for him to find runners like me all the time,” he replied. “I got a burner phone so he can’t send anyone after me. You should probably get one too. He might have bugged your phone to listen in, so I probably shouldn’t say where I am.”

  “But you’re okay?” Georgia repeated. Her heart was racing and she knew she wouldn’t be able to calm down until Felix told her he was safe.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I was able to shake Ivan’s guy right away, so they have no idea which direction I’m headed in. I’ll keep moving though, just in case,” Felix told her.

  Georgia thought he sounded exhausted, but otherwise alright. She let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding in.

  “Were you able to visit our friend?” Felix asked, carefully avoiding names in case Ivan did have someone eavesdropping on them. Spike wouldn’t be able to do much good if Ivan had a forewarning that he was coming.

  “Yes! I did. He promised he would help us, but he hasn’t said how yet,” Georgia told her brother, fervently hoping he wouldn’t ask how she managed to convince him to go after Ivan.

  “Really?” Felix exclaimed, shocked. “That’s awesome, Joja! What did you say to him?” he asked.

  Georgia froze, the word anything playing on a loop in her mind. She flashed back to Spike looming over her as she begged him from her knees and everything that followed. Images from last night kept creeping up on her, causing her to blush randomly throughout the day. At one point Stacy even asked her if she had a fever. Georgia blamed it on her hangover and hoped that excuse would suffice until she could control herself.

  “Don’t worry about it, Felix. Just focus on keeping yourself safe.” She sounded like a liar even to her own ears.

  “What did you promise him, Georgia?” Felix asked suspiciously. “I can take care of myself; don’t give him something you can’t give for my sake,” he told her determinedly.

  “It’s not like that at all, Felix. Relax,” Georgia fibbed. “I just don’t want to talk about it on the phone. Ivan could be listening, remember? We should keep this short.”

  Stacy gave her a look and Georgia glared at her, turning her back to Stacy. Truthfully, Georgia didn’t want to hang up; she was terrified this could be the last time she spoke to her little brother, but she didn’t want to have to explain how she convinced Spike and the Satan’s Disciples to help them. Felix would come back immediately, and then Georgia would lose everything she ever cared about.

  “You’re probably right,” Felix said. “Thanks, Joja. You think of everything. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

  Georgia bit back tears. “Get going—I don’t want you to get caught just because we’re being sappy.” She wasn’t lying now, but she also wanted to make sure her persuasion tactics didn’t come up again.

  She told Felix she loved him and hung up the phone.

  “Why didn’t you tell Felix about your arrangement with Spike?” she heard Stacy quietly ask from behind her.

  Georgia closed her eyes, begging the Lord for patience. “I know what I’m doing, Stacy,”
she said, turning to look at her friend.

  Stacy stepped forward, concern in her eyes. “I’m worried about you, Georgia.”

  “That makes sense,” Georgia said cynically. “There’s a high probability I’ll be murdered in the next few days.”

  Stacy rolled her eyes, frustrated with Georgia’s attitude. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. This guy Spike is bad news. For all we know, he could be worse than Ivan.”

  “Felix told me he would help us, and he’s helping us!” Georgia cried, conveniently forgetting she had accused Spike of taking advantage of her only last night. “How does that make him a bad guy?”

  Stacy narrowed her eyes at Georgia. “I’m trying to help you, so don’t pretend like he’s some romantic guy, dashing off to protect your honor, Georgia. Spike is an opportunist and he sees you as an opportunity, that’s all. When he’s done with you, he’ll move on.”