The grumblings and nods in agreement reinforced that the club was on the same page with Banger and the other officers. Dustin, the president of the troubled Nebraska club, had been running it into the garbage for a while. The Kilson club had ignored the national rules each charter had to abide by if it wanted to display Insurgents colors. The Nebraska club was rife with alcohol abuse, use of hard drugs, and underage girls.
“These members are so fuckin’ outta control. We need to go down there and beat their asses.” Jax echoed the sentiment of the brothers. “Now they fuckin’ screwed up the gun deal because they didn’t deliver when they said. This makes us all look like a bunch of weak, two-faced pussies. Fuck that shit!” Jax’s face contorted with rage.
Many of the brothers yelled, pounded the table, and demanded to know what their president was going to do. To lose face was the worst thing for an outlaw biker club—respect and honor were everything. The Insurgents set up the gun deal with their charter club and Liam, an Irish smuggler they had worked with many times in the past. Hawk had been reluctant to help the troubled club in the arms deal, but Banger, as national president, always lent a hand to help the charters. But the dirt bags were fuckin’ things up by not delivering the guns, and the Insurgents’ reputation was in jeopardy.
Banger was especially pissed since he went out on a limb for Dustin. They used to be buddies back in the day when Dustin was a member in the national club. After he proved to be a straight-up brother, Dustin asked Banger if he could set up a charter in Kilson, Nebraska, his hometown. Banger agreed, and for years things had run smoothly. It had just been in the last couple of years that things in the club started to veer off course. Banger knew he should have taken control right when it started going sour, but he let his friendship and affection for his fellow brother override his instinct to lay down the law. The Insurgents had a real mess on their hands.
“I’ve been in contact with Liam. I told him we’re voting on whether to send a few of our brothers to Nebraska to finish up the deal. He’s pretty pissed, but our prior transactions give him assurance that we’ll get the job done. I’m fuckin’ pissed we have to get involved. This shit shoulda been done by now. It was a small operation. That club is fucked. Let’s take a vote on whether we should send some brothers down there to kick some ass.” Banger surveyed the sea of faces; all thirty members raised their hands and shouted out their support for their president.
Banger nodded. “Then it’s a go. Hawk, Jax, Chas, PJ, Axe, and Throttle will go to make sure the deal goes down. They’ll also see what the fuck is goin’ on with Dustin’s club. If those fuckers don’t follow Insurgents code, then we’re gonna cut ’em out. No more fuckin’ chances.”
“When do we take off?” Jax asked Hawk.
“In about an hour.”
* * *
Sunshine beat down on the riders as they rode two by two on the highway toward Nebraska. A cool breeze made the journey pleasant, but the darkened skies to the east didn’t bode well. It was a bitch traveling in a thunderstorm with raindrops pelting down like bullets, but inclement weather was a small price to pay for the freedom and thrill of the ride.
Jax, as the Sergeant-At-Arms, roared behind the other motorcycles. Doing ninety-five on his maroon Harley CVO Road Glide was intoxicating and invigorating. He had worked two and sometimes three jobs to save enough money to afford his baby. After Hawk customized it, it was one badass bike. He loved how she handled. If only women handled as smoothly and reliably as my bike—my life would be complete.
The one he wanted to handle with the same deft precision as his Harley was Cherri. What the fuck was her problem anyway? As he blasted by the acres of cornfields, images of Cherri in her skin-tight skirt on Saturday night made him shift in his seat. He’d bet anything she was commando that night; he hadn’t seen a panty line. She was definitely sexy. It made him madder than hell to think about Gunner enjoying her. He knew Cherri was punishing him by hanging with Gunner, but this shit was getting old.
Pursing his lips, he was mad at himself for wasting his time thinking about her. She wasn’t the only bitch around. There was plenty of good pussy—always a steady stream of it at the clubhouse. And there were a hell of a lot of bitches who weren’t as messed-up and would be more than happy to be in his bed, riding his cock. Why the fuck don’t I just move on?
As Jax pressed down on the gas pedal, his Harley picked up speed, its exhaust pipes thundering. Slight gasoline fumes tinged the air while waves of heat from the engine and the rush of the wind all about exhilarated him. Damn, why am I kidding myself? I feel something for this girl—she gets to me. He shook his head as if by doing so, he’d rid his brain of her image.
Every time he saw her, he wanted her even more. What was up with that shit? He had fucked a lot of women, and he wasn’t a one-woman man, but he never had feelings for the women he banged like he did for Cherri. Hell, Peaches was good pussy, nice and all that, but she didn’t have the pull on his heart like Cherri did. He didn’t have a clue how he could make it right with her. He wanted Cherri to be all his. He claimed her the day they fucked in her room, but she went ballistic when she saw him with Peaches. She didn’t even let him explain. He told her he was sorry, but she threw his words in the garbage by hooking up with Gunner.
She could be such a bitch. He suspected her coolness was a protection from the fear she held inside her—something was behind those cold and panicked eyes. He wished she’d let him know what the fuck went on inside her head. When she freaked out on him in his room the past Saturday, her nonchalance attitude about it didn’t convince him at all. She tried to act tough, but he knew she was a scared little girl in a grown-up body. He had a hunch she had some serious shit from her past, and he wanted to help her deal with it. The problem was she wouldn’t let him in. She pretended she had no feelings for him, but her moans of pleasure as he screwed her told him otherwise.
There’s no way she faked her screams when we fucked. Her blue eyes turned from ice to flame when she writhed beneath me. Damn, I need to get back into her silkiness and feel her pussy tightening around my dick. I’ve got a damn hard-on just thinking of her, like I’m in junior high. Fuck!
He saw Hawk’s turn signal blink, and all riders took the next exit and pulled into the gas and convenience store off the freeway. Jax, nursing a raging hard-on, sat on his seat and pretended to be engrossed in reading his text messages.
“You don’t need any gas?” Chas asked as he came over to Jax.
“Doing somethin’ right now,” Jax replied.
Chas looked at Jax and laughed, clapping him on the back. “Fuck, you got it bad for her, don’t you?”
Glaring at him, Jax said, “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”
Chas’s laughter brought the other brothers over, who guffawed when they noticed Jax’s erection.
“What the fuck were you doin’ on your bike?” Hawk teased as he winked at the others.
“You fantasizing ’bout your little stripper?” PJ joked.
With arms crossed, Jax sneered, “Fuck off.”
“I think that’s what you’re aiming to do, brother,” Axe said, while he filled his gas tank.
Brooding, Jax placed his sunglasses back on his eyes and stared straight ahead, his mouth forming a tight line.
“Okay, let’s leave horny boy alone with his thoughts. We’ll take fifteen minutes to fuel and piss, then we’re back on the road. I want to reach Kilson before dark,” Hawk said.
Jax slinked off his bike; he still stung from the embarrassment of having a hard-on with no chick in sight. He was a wuss, but he didn’t care. He’d do anything to get Cherri back into his life.
* * *
The bikers approached the charter clubhouse as the sun began its descent, the western sky painted in hues of purple-tinged grey, orange and pinkish rose. A couple of prospects came up to the bikers, quickly wiping down the grime from the road trip off their motorcycles. Taking off their sunglasses, the men sauntered inside t
he clubhouse. Once their eyes adjusted to the dim lights, they noticed several members smoking crack and snorting coke. Women, stoned and naked, lay on the floor next to passed-out brothers. A few of the more alert women, covering their nakedness with their hands, scurried out of the room when they saw the Insurgents’ members walk in. The skittish girls looked about fifteen or sixteen years old. Chas muttered, “Fuckin’ perverts,” under his breath.
A charter member came up to them. “Hey, welcome,” he said as he stretched out his arms and looked at them through red, wavering eyes.
“Get your fuckin’ president. Now,” Hawk growled.
Chapter Ten
“Hey, brother, how’s it goin’? Didn’t know you guys were coming. You shoulda told me; I’d have made sure we got the finest whores and whiskey for you all.” Dustin clasped Hawk’s shoulder while a wide grin spread across his face. He nodded his chin at the other guys in the group.
A brick wall met Dustin’s friendly gesture. Hawk, staring Dustin in the eye, said, “Get your members together. We’re calling an emergency church.”
“Oh, sure, sure, but we got time for that. How ’bout a few shots?”
“Now.” Hawk’s voice had a steel edge to it.
Dustin glared at them, turned around, and gathered up the twelve charter members. They all went into a large room which housed a wooden square table and folding chairs along the walls. The Insurgents emblem, carved in 3D, hung on the wall. Dustin slammed the gavel on the table and immediately, the room fell quiet.
“Our brothers from the mother club are here for a visit. We welcome them,” he said as he gestured toward the out-of-state bikers.
The charter members cheered and nodded toward the visiting brothers. Several of the members cried out, “Let’s party like fuck tonight.” Hoots and hollers ensued.
Hawk, standing up, slammed his fist on the table. Surprised, they all quieted down.
“We’re not here to party. We’re here to find out what the fuck is goin’ on with this club,” he said.
Angry voices replaced the excited ones from a few moments earlier. Jax went on high-alert. His job as a Sergeant-at-Arms was to keep his club and his brothers safe from harm. He had to be focused and aware of everything going around him at all times. He scrutinized the faces and body language of the irate members in the room.
“Why the fuck didn’t Banger pay me the respect to come himself if he had a problem with the way I’m runnin’ things?” Dustin demanded.
“I don’t owe you an explanation about shit. The point is this shithole club is outta control and things have got to change ASAP. Got it?” Hawk bored a hole in Dustin.
“Change what?”
“For starters, all underage girls have to go. Now. No minors stripping or prostituting, and no minors fuckin’ any of the brothers. Next, all hard drugs are out since you fuckers don’t know how to use without losing. Your drug use is making your brains mush, which means bad decisions on your part. We’re fuckin’ tired of bailing your asses out all the time.” Hawk paused, his words hanging over the room’s stunned silence.
“Fuck you, asshole!” Shack, the charter’s vice president, yelled, breaking the silence.
Several charter members cussed and pounded their fists on the table. One burly man with a long, unkempt beard approached Hawk, hand reaching inside his cut. Before Hawk could react, Jax had the big man face-down on the floor. The man grunted and flailed like a harpooned fish out of water.
“Don’t try anything stupid or I’ll gut you right here and now,” Jax hissed in the man’s ear. “Got it, asshole?” The man growled his response.
Shack, red-faced with fury, said, “Let our brother go.”
“Not until he shows some respect. I’d advise you to do the same. Hawk represents our president and our club. You don’t respect that, I’ll fuckin’ stomp each and every one of you,” Jax said in a deadly calm voice.
He nodded at Hawk to continue, who said, “And one last thing. We’re taking over the gun deal. You’ve fucked it up enough.”
Dustin clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing while he rubbed his face. “That’s our deal, and you fuckin’ know that.”
“Was your deal. We fixed it up for you morons, and you fuckin’ blew it. We’re taking it over. This isn’t open for discussion.” Hawk crossed his arms over his chest.
“Fuck, we need the money. Banger can’t do this.” Dustin paced back and forth in front of the table.
“Banger can and did. You’ll get your money. It’s just that we’re orchestrating this operation now. We’ll show you fuckers how it’s supposed to be done.” Hawk sank back down into the black leather chair.
Jax slowly let the large man up from the floor, his face covered in blood from the force in which Jax slammed him to the ground. He kept his eye on the charter member until the man went to the back of the room, took out a large rag, and wiped his face.
“If we get the money, then do what you need to do. I can’t say I’m happy with this, but I’ll take it up with Banger, president to president.” The jab Dustin made on Hawk’s second-in-command status was not lost on the Colorado members. Dustin picked up the gavel and pounded it on the table, saying, “Church is adjourned. Let’s show our national members a good time tonight.
Jerking his chin to his brothers, Hawk said, “Let’s get our shit outta our bikes.”
Outside, the Colorado brothers huddled near their Harleys. The lights from the clubhouse illuminated the parking lot. Jax, still pissed from church, said, “These fuckers should be nixed out of the Insurgents family. They don’t have respect, and they don’t know what the hell Insurgents stand for.” He jumped up and down in place so he could burn off some excess energy. If he didn’t, he was afraid he was going to hurt someone; his anger was palatable.
“Steady, man. We can’t have you blowing your fuse. Let it ride; we’ve more important things to do,” Hawk said.
Jax grunted as he continued to jump up and down.
“Things could get a bit sticky because Banger and I believe there’s a double-crosser in the charter club, and that’s why the deal didn’t go down. We got a scout who’s been keeping track of the comings and goings of these assholes. I’m meeting up with him later. We gotta find out who it is if we’re going to be successful in delivering the guns and not getting our asses wasted.” Hawk looked at each of them.
“Jax, I need you to pass bullshit to these sorry-ass members that we’re moving the guns tomorrow afternoon to the red barn by Jackson Road and the deal is going down on Friday night. We’re actually gonna meet with the Irishman on Thursday night. Let’s see who shows up at the red barn tomorrow night. No one knows what’s going on but us, understood?”
They all nodded in agreement. After they took their clothes and toiletries out of their saddlebags, they headed back to the clubhouse.
Two hours later, Chas and Jax sat on barstools downing their shots of Jack. The clubhouse party was in full swing. The coke flowed freely, and the club sluts swayed their scantily clad bodies to the beat of “Cherry Pie” by Warrant. Dustin came up to them, a slut on each arm, and said in a thick voice, “Hey, here’s a welcoming present for each of you. The blonde can suck like a pro and the brunette loves it in the ass. You guys decide who gets who.” He shoved the women toward Chas and Jax.
A stunning redhead walked by, her ass cheeks exposed. Dustin grabbed her and slammed her against Hawk. “Oh, fuck,” she said as her head collided with his jaw. Rubbing her head, she looked up at Hawk and smiled. “Hey, you’re good-looking.” Chas and Jax laughed while Hawk lightly pushed her away.
“What the fuck, man? You don’t like red pussy?” Dustin asked.
“Nah, just not interested.” Hawk replied.
Jax, his arm around the blonde, shook his head and said, “He’s got an old lady. He’s off the market.”
“Really? I never figured you’d get an old lady.”
“Well, I did.” Hawk threw back his Jack, gave a knowing look at Chas and Ja
x, and said, “Gonna get some fresh air then call it a night.” He walked out of the clubhouse.
“Fuck, never thought I’d see the day Hawk would turn down some prime pussy. Never thought I’d see him leave a party, either,” Dustin said as he scratched his head.
“He’s taken now, but I’m not and I love all colors of pussy,” Jax said as he pulled the redhead into his hard chest. The blonde was stroking his cock while he played with her tits, and the redhead kissed him deeply, rubbing her big tits against his chest. He looked over to Chas who was busy licking the brunette’s mound.
“Let’s get more comfortable on the couches,” Jax said to the two club sluts. They jumped up, each taking one of his hands, and led their man to a tattered blue couch in the corner of the room. Blocking out images of Cherri, Jax took a deep gulp of whiskey, pulled the women down with him on the couch, and let the fun begin.
* * *
Jax woke up to a pounding headache. He looked around the unfamiliar room then noticed a warm body next to his back and another against his chest. He looked down and saw the blonde who’d sucked his dick dry earlier.
He wasn’t sure how he ended up in this room, but he remembered fucking the two women every way possible. The blonde sighed and pressed her ass harder into his cock. The redhead bumped against his ass with hers as she turned in her sleep. Jax looked at both women and a sense of emptiness filled him. What the fuck? I just had amazing sex with two beautiful women and I’m… what? Depressed? What the fuck?
Jax glanced at the glowing red numbers on the clock beside the bed; they read two-fifteen in the morning. He reached over the blonde—he couldn’t remember either woman’s name—and retrieved his phone. Without thinking, he dialed Cherri’s number.
Jax's Dilemma:Insurgents Motorcycle Club (Insurgents MC Romance Book 2) Page 10