Men in Charge: A Contemporary Romance Box Set

by Natasha L. Black

  But there was another part of me that was glad women like Jenna knew they could come to us for help. I’d worked damn hard to create the reputation the Avenging Angels had.

  My MC ran a clean trade. We kept the streets free of drugs and illegal gun activity, we served the community through the mechanic shop, and me and my men would stand by women who were trying to get out of abusive relationships.

  They were often scared and alone and didn’t feel they had anyone they could turn to. I wanted to prove to each one they were safe with us around, and I wasn’t going to quit until those kinds of calls stopped coming in.

  “Pontiac is done!” Axle said triumphantly as he walked into the office from the shop. His hands were greasy, and he had smudges of oil on his face, but his smile showed how happy he was with the fact he’d finally managed to figure out the problem and fix it.

  “Five hundred even will do it. Trip, you okay?” his smile faded when he saw the look on my face. I was staring straight out the window, not paying attention to what he was saying about the car. There was too much going through my mind to care about what was wrong with the vehicle at the moment.

  “It’s Jenna,” I said. “She’s going through with the divorce.”

  “Oh, shit,” Axle replied. “What happened?”

  I shook my head. “She didn’t go into details. Just called me a few minutes ago and told me she’s going to her parents’ house. The court date is coming up in a few days and she wants one of us to be there for her.”

  “I’ll take it,” Axle replied immediately. “I’ve been telling her to get rid of that piece of shit since before she married him.”

  I nodded. It was true. Axle had had a crush on the woman since long before she met and married the man who was now her husband. But he was too much of a gentleman to interfere in her life. He told her multiple times that the man wasn’t any good for her, and she was far better off alone than with a monster like her husband.

  But the young girl was blinded by love and headstrong and refused to listen. She thought Anthony Marcus was the best thing to ever happen to her, despite the black eyes and mental abuse that was common since day one.

  “Did he hurt her again?” Axle asked. He was pacing back and forth in the shop, and I had a feeling he was just as ready to go jump the man as I was.

  “She didn’t offer any details,” I said again. “She sounded like she was in a rush, and I didn’t want to hold her on the phone in case she was. If she needed to get out of there and get somewhere safe, it was better that she did that first, then called and hashed things out after.”

  “I’ll kill him if he did,” Axle growled.

  “Let’s not go that far at this point,” I warned. “We’re not sure what happened. I’m hoping to God she finally came to her senses and decided to get out of there before things got worse. She didn’t say anything about him hitting her.”

  “Not like she would on the phone,” he said with a shake of his head. “God, I hate that man. He’s a monster, and I hope he burns in hell.”

  “He’s going to get what’s coming to him,” I replied. “They always do. Our part is to stand by her and make sure she’s safe. If you want to take that yourself, go for it.”

  “I do,” he said with a nod. “I’m not going to let him come within fifty feet of her.”

  “Do what you think is best,” I nodded. He shook his head, still full of fury as he headed back into the shop. I could relate. There was a time when I felt that level of anger at the thought of any man putting his hand on a woman.

  It hit too close to home.

  During my second tour in the military ten years prior, my sister had been murdered by her abusive husband. Like Axle, I often told her that he wasn’t any good for her, and I wanted her to get away from him as soon as possible.

  But, like Jenna, she had been too blinded by love and the attention that he gave her to give my opinion any real thought. She made excuses for the way he treated her, and ultimately, it cost her life.

  As an Army Ranger at the time, I wanted to take matters into my own hands. I wanted to hunt down the guy that did it and do to him everything that he did to her. But I had to let the justice system do its work.

  He got what was coming to him. The Death Penalty that I pushed to be carried out until it was finally was four years after the fact. But it was at that moment – when the sentence was finally carried out – I realized nothing was going to bring Mercedes back.

  She was gone, and even with her murderer gone, I didn’t feel any better. It took another tour in Iraq to get much of my aggression out, and when I returned home, I knew I had to start a club that would bring others like me together.

  And so, the Avenging Angels was born.

  2

  Megan

  “Now, there’s no need to act like this is the worst thing you’ve ever been through. I’m trying to help you out. I want you all to understand that when you’re out there, the people who are already living that life are going to try to make you think that it’s the coolest thing you can do, but it’s not,” I looked around at the faces of the bored teenagers staring back at me.

  Though I was twenty-eight years old and had a master’s degree, there were times I still felt like one of them. I was shorter than most being the petite woman that I was, and I often found it easy to pull my brunette hair into a messy bun. It was so much faster in the morning than trying to deal with any hairstyle.

  I had to wear it in a far different way at my other job. A sexier way, as my boss put it, that brought out how green my eyes really were. But here, standing in front of this group of teenaged seniors, I kept everything as simple as possible.

  I smiled warmly, flipping through the presentation I’d put together. It was a difficult thing, giving these lectures once a month. It was all that the school was allowing me for now, but I was working to change all that.

  As the school counselor, I knew many of the students in Barstow High well. But I wasn’t happy with how I worked with them. My goal was to keep them off the streets, as far away from drugs and alcohol as possible, and train them to believe that life was far more fulfilling with good jobs and honest pay than through gangs, motorcycle clubs, or the cartel.

  I wanted to have a lecture I could give students weekly, not just showing them the dark side of that kind of life but showing them how good life could be if they chose to work hard through school, graduate, and push themselves to be the best they could be.

  But for now, I had to work with what I was given and try my best to make up for it with the students I saw throughout my days at the school.

  There were some I feared were already on the path to destruction. All of those students came from broken homes, and often with the influence of some organized crime already present in their lives.

  Those were the ones who were hardest to reach, and they were the ones I was most desperate for. But still, I saw value in showing all the kids at the school who were on the brink of graduation and adulthood what they could be if they just chose to work for it.

  “Come on, Teach, it’s Friday, we want to get out of here!” one of the boys near the back of the class called out.

  “You and me both, Andreas, but this is important. Think about what you can do with your life if you dedicate yourself to your studies now!” I said enthusiastically. I knew many of the students who were present were struggling to keep their grades up, and some of them had to bring their grades up if they hoped to graduate in the spring.

  Since it was early on in the first semester of the year, I had made it my mission to get as many of these kids motivated enough to graduate as possible.

  “I think I could do a whole lot more with my weekend if you would get through with this dumb lesson and we could move on,” he challenged. Other students in the group laughed, while a few looked embarrassed for me.

  “Then let’s get to it. You know the more you guys participate, the sooner we’re going to get through this,” I replied. I had learne
d part of the key to getting them to engage with me through the lesson was to ask them to participate.

  So many times a question would hang in the air, silence ensuing. But, if I refused to move on until someone gave me their opinion, it was a lot easier to get them to respond, if for no other reason than to move me along.

  It wasn’t a fool proof method, and there were still plenty of kids who hung back and refused to engage with me when I spoke. But at least there were others who were talking. Anyone who voiced their opinion not only gave the other students something to think about, but it gave me something to study and focus on when I tried to help those students.

  But my methods only went so far. As much as I tried and encouraged the kids to interact with me during the lessons, I did only have an hour at most to talk to them, and I had to keep things moving along rather quickly. By the end of the hour, it was clear most of the kids were more than ready to get out of there, and I had to let them go.

  Reluctantly, I dismissed them not only for the day, but for the month, knowing that unless they were sent to me for getting in trouble, I wasn’t going to see many of the faces in the room until I was allowed the space to talk to them again next time. As they filed out in front of me, I worried that some of the faces wouldn’t be back.

  It was always a risk when the kids were this age. There were times when some would get so fed up with struggling in school they would merely drop out and opt for a life of gangs and drugs. And every time it happened, my heart broke for them a little bit more.

  With school out for the weekend, there wasn’t anything else for me to do. Being the organized woman that I was, I could leave any time I wished after the final class let out, and all the teachers tried to get the kids out the door as early as they could on Friday.

  We were all tired and ready for the weekend. Except, I wasn’t going to get a weekend at all. I’d go home, shower, and change into another outfit before grabbing a quick bite to eat on my way out the door and to my second job.

  I didn’t tell my students what I did on the weekends. It seemed rather hypocritical to tell them to stay away from drugs and alcohol, only to turn around and be a bartender Friday and Saturday nights. But, what other choice did I have?

  It wasn’t any more hypocritical in my mind than telling them to stay away from motorcycle clubs, only to be teaching them from a degree that had been paid for with MC money. It was the whole reason I was a bartender. I hadn’t wanted their money to get me through school, and once I had them paid off, I was going to quit that job, too.

  I gathered my things and pulled my purse over my shoulder, walking down the hall and heading out the door with the students. I’d just reached the bottom of the staircase, however, when the unmistakable rumble of a Harley Davidson engine filled the air.

  My heart sank. Several of the students I’d just spent the last hour speaking to ran toward the biker, commenting on his bike and looking in awe at his vest. His arms were covered in tattoos, his hair on the long side though still shorter than chin length.

  His dark sunglasses shielded his eyes from the rest of the world, but I didn’t even have to look over at him to know who it was. My heartrate picked up, and I had an angry knot in my stomach as I walked quickly over to him, encouraging the kids to head home or back to the bus.

  “You don’t want to get stuck walking,” I’d tease as I shooed them away. As soon as they were out of earshot, I turned to the man on the back of the bike. “Cutter! How many times do I have to tell you not to come here on this thing? Dressed like that?”

  “I wear my club with honor,” he said. I wanted to roll my eyes. My brother was president of Satan’s Souls, and he never took his vest off. There were times I wanted to ask him if he also slept with it on, but I bit my tongue.

  “You realize this kind of life is the very thing I’m trying to keep these kids away from,” I gestured to his image as I spoke, “Then you show up and make it look like the coolest thing in the world. You know how many of these kids are so close to just throwing all their futures away and doing this sort of thing?”

  “Good, we could use some new recruits. Things haven’t been going so well at the club lately,” he said.

  “Don’t you dare insinuate you are down here looking for recruits,” I said the word with as much disgust as I could. “You live an empty, dangerous life and I want them to stay away from it!”

  “For being so empty it certainly does pay the bills, huh?” he asked. I knew he meant it as a jab, but even if he didn’t, I sure as hell would have taken it as one. He started Satan’s Souls when I was in my late teens. Being five years older than myself, he had practically raised me when our parents were killed when I was twelve years old. He had tried his hand at honest work, but it just didn’t pay the bills like the illegal shit did.

  It was drug dealing at first. Nothing much, just a bit here, a bit there. Then it was gangs. He never officially joined, knowing how to play the field on both sides, no one ever required it of him. Until they started to get pissed about him working for rivals.

  He considered the cartel coming out of Mexico, but at the time, he didn’t know what to do with me when he had to be over the border. So, he did the only thing he could think of doing. He started an MC.

  Cutter was the reason I disliked all MCs and didn’t have the highest opinion of any of them. I heard that there were those that did good, protecting their towns and running out the bad guys. Vigilantes on steel horses just riding the streets and keeping everyone safe.

  Whether that was true, I didn’t know. What I did know was Cutter was nothing like that. He was quite the opposite, in fact. He and his men were the reason people didn’t want to be on the streets at night. It was because of their work we had a huge drug problem, not only in Barstow, but in many of the southern California towns, reaching all the way down through the border states.

  I had a feeling his work even reached as far as New York City, but I didn’t want to know, so I never asked.

  “I’ve got to get to work,” I said, gathering my things closer to my chest. “Is there something you want?”

  “Just seeing if you wanted to grab something for dinner before you had to head off to your next honorable job,” he replied.

  I gave him a look. “There’s nothing wrong with tending bar.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with taking your sister to dinner, either,” he shot back. I sighed. I did have the time to do it, but I really didn’t want to. At the same time, I knew once he got it in his head he wanted to go to dinner and catch up with what I was doing, I may as well get it over with.

  He’d keep on me about it until I finally gave in, so I shrugged. “I’m going to head back to my place and get ready for work. I can meet you at Polly’s Diner in an hour.”

  He nodded. “See you then.”

  Without another word, he revved the engine and sped off, leaving me shaking my head and wondering how I was going to explain him to any of my students who asked. Many of them knew I was related to Cutter, and thereby affiliated with Satan’s Souls.

  And the same students didn’t care that it wasn’t by choice.

  If I didn’t feel like I was fighting a losing battle before, I certainly was now.

  And there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.

  3

  Trip

  “Does anyone have anything they want to bring to the table before we begin?” I asked as I looked from face to face. All my brothers were there at Church – what we called our club meetings – and I looked over the room with a sense of pride. These were all good men, all of them fellow vets who were looking for the same camaraderie at home that we’d had in war.

  “Besides the obvious?” Brutus asked.

  “I’m going to get into that after we get through anything going on within the club,” I replied. I hated to play the parent with the men, but I’d found internal turmoil was one of the worst things to have if we were going to stick together. I made sure all of my men were treated
fairly, and there wasn’t any bullying going on.

  Of course, it was rarely an issue. We were a group of broken men. Some of us had prosthetics from losing limbs on tour, others struggled with debilitating PTSD and panic attacks.

  None were judged for what they’d gone through or what they were dealing with as a result, and all were supported. It was part of the creed I’d established after I got back.

  It hadn’t taken me long to find a band of brothers who felt the same. We were truly a family, and for some of the guys, our club was the only family they had.

  They might have relatives. Some in town, some far away, but no one was really close to their blood relatives. With the exceptions, of course, of those who were married or partnered.

  “I’d like to bring up what’s going on with the upcoming court date,” Axle said. “It might be rather insignificant in and of itself, but it seems to me like our court protection detail is causing a little ruffle in the Souls’ feathers.”

  I pointed to him. “That is something that I wanted to bring up, and I’m glad that you did it for me.”

  Turning to address the men seated around my table, I put both my hands palm down on the surface, leaning forward. “Brothers. It’s not a surprise to any of you that we’re at odds with Satan’s Souls. It’s been over a year now, and things are only getting worse. They’ve now decided they are going to clap back at us in any way they can because we’re trying to render them ineffective here in town.”

  “Why’s that?” Odie asked. I didn’t blame him for not knowing. He’d only been a prospect for a month. He didn’t understand the bad blood that existed between us and the Souls, and I wanted him to as soon as possible.

  “Many of the women we have helped through the past couple years have been victims of members of the Souls. It only brings more attention to them and the fucked up shit they do, and they don’t like that,” Axle explained.