Connected in Pain : A Motorcycle Club Romance Trilogy of Crow & Rylynn

by Ryan Michele

  Tex, another one of our brothers, walked up to Tommy as he tried to take off in a pitiful attempt and grabbed him by the back of the shirt, tightening it so he couldn’t breathe. “And where the fuck do you think you’re goin’?” he asked as Tommy’s arms flailed trying to pull off the pressure from around his neck, but not getting anywhere.

  “Probably to look for his balls,” Phoenix joked as he walked closer, each step cracking rocks and glass under his boots. He reached to his buckle and pulled out the large knife he always kept on him, the lights of the building sparkling off the blade.

  Phoenix had a thing with knives. If one were to check his body, they’d be surprised to find at least ten if not more on him, at all times. While he used his gun, knives were his specialty, choosing them above all other weapons. He put the sharp blade to Tommy’s throat.

  “Nah, he never had those in the first place,” Rooster, another brother, commented, coming over to stand next to me and Brewer, who both had our guns out.

  “We gave you ten grand,” I started, crossing my arms over my chest and taking a menacing step forward. “You haven’t made that ten K and left us hangin’. Then we had to come find you. We don’t go huntin’ for shit we pay for. So Phoenix here is gonna take it out of your skin.”

  Tommy coughed and squirmed, face turning red, but Phoenix didn’t even blink pressing the blade into Tommy’s throat harder and causing a bit of blood to run down his neck. Not enough, but it would serve the purpose.

  “I have it.” The words came out broken and wheezing, which would be expected.

  The source who connected us with Tommy said he was a piece of shit, but gave reliable information. Since we trusted the source, we were putting that on Tommy. If this shit went south, there’d be two more deaths on my hands very soon. Carlo and Tommy.

  Tex lessened the pressure around his neck as Tommy gasped for breath.

  “Oh, you do? They why are ya runnin’ from us?” I said, calm and cool watching his facial expressions and body movements, getting a read on him, which was difficult with him trying to suck air in his lungs. “What do you have for us?”

  Phoenix stepped back a touch as Brewer kicked Tommy’s feet out from under him having him land hard on his ass to the dirt-covered ground. He cried out, and Tex grabbed his shirt keeping him in place.

  “I’m waiting.”

  Tommy’s eyes flickered everywhere, no doubt trying to come up with some kind of information that he would hope would pass. This made me curious as to what all he knew, and whatever he gave us would decide his fate. Tommy was a weasel, but one with connections around this city. He was vapor, never seen unless he wanted to be. This afforded him to be very knowledgeable.

  Nodding at Tex, he released his grip on the t-shirt and Tommy swayed putting his hands around his neck protectively. He looked up to me from the ground knowing his time was going to be up if he didn’t give me something tangible that we could run with to get more information. We paid him to get his ass moving fast, that was obviously a mistake, but I wanted my ten grand of information.

  No one fucked with the Ravage MC, and Tommy knew it but signed up for the job anyway. This would decide how stupid he was going to play it.

  “Xavier and Marcus. Low level in the drug department, but moving up the ranks. Rumor is they are planning on taking up with Dixon in Midway to get bigger shipments. Their distribution is spreading, but it hasn’t gotten anywhere close to Rebellion.”

  “It better fuckin’ not,” grumbled Phoenix.

  He wasn’t fucking kidding there. Xavier Glenn and Marcus Camery contacted us to do a run for them. We were to pick it up on the Chattanooga by boat, then meet them at a warehouse to drop off the goods. We did not ask specifically what was in the crates, but were getting a pretty good idea now.

  “They have a small crew, but they’re all loyal to Xavier and Marcus.”

  He said nothing, just stared up at me. He had to have more here. I reached in and pulled out my Glock, holding it to my side. “We’re not exactly gettin’ ten grand worth that we paid for.”

  Phoenix sunk the knife into Tommy’s thigh causing him to cry out in pain once again. Blood trickled down splashing to the concrete and mingling with the filth already there. At closer look, the wound was only a flesh. Phoenix barely cut him. Pussy.

  Tommy’s breathing was labored. “Fuck!”

  Kneeling down to look him in the eye gun at the ready, I responded, “You’d better fuckin’ talk.”

  “Shit!” he ground out as I moved my gun to the knife wound, pushing it down into his flesh and causing more of his blood to spill. Tommy hollered out again in pain as I ground the gun into his leg.

  “Better get talking. My finger’s gettin’ twitchy.”

  He heaved in a breath after I let up the pressure, fear stark in his eyes. “This doesn’t have anything to do with Marcus and Xavier, but word on the street is you have eyes on you.”

  “What the fuck?” Brewer growled at my side, looking down at us. He wasn’t wrong. Eyes were bad. Eyes got us in deep shit.

  “Don’t know who yet. Whoever they were they’re keeping a tight hold on it. Even I haven’t been able to find out who.”

  Pissed off I shot a round in Tommy’s thigh then rose to my feet, and my brothers closed in. Spent my life counting on my gut and this asshole had nothing more to give us, at least at the moment he was telling the truth. Fuck, we had a target on our backs.

  The ten grand wasn’t a complete loss, but he was nowhere near done yet. He needed to get digging and fast.

  “Get me my ten grand worth. I want to know who the eyes are. You have two days to get me more information or you won’t be breathin’,” I said looking down at Tommy. “Let’s roll,” I ordered as Tex let the man go, and he fell to the ground with a thump. Phoenix put his knife back in its holster, and I put my gun away.

  Walking back to our bikes, I stopped Wrong Way. “Get your fuckin’ brother on the phone and to the clubhouse.” He nodded, pulling out his phone and making a call. Maybe Kenny knew something. He was the sheriff of Rebellion and all.

  We got on our bikes and rode back to the clubhouse. Me at the front, Brewer and Wrong Way behind me, behind them Rooster, Hornet, Lemon and Tex. We were one. Loved riding with my brothers, but my head was on to this new situation.

  For the last few years, we’d flown under the radar never pinging on anything. When I became president, I took great pains to make that happen. Loved my dad, but some of his dealings were a bit sticky and got us in some heat. Instead of keeping that on us, the club moved in another direction where we were more discreet about what we did.

  Everything appeared legal to anyone looking at us. Therefore, no shit thrown our way. This, though. Having someone watching us, that could only lead to bad things and needed to be stopped immediately.

  Kenny should know if it had anything to do with the law, such as ATF which if it was, we’d be fucked if they went in and found our stashes. The goal was always to be miles ahead of anything and everything. Unfortunately, this made us lag behind. We needed to get a tight handle on it and get it controlled.

  Pulling into the clubhouse, we parked our bikes, swung off them, and took our helmets off.

  “What are you thinkin’?” Texas, or Tex for short, asked as the hot sun pounded down on us. Tex had been in the club for over twenty-one years and was a mountain of a man at six-two and built like a solid tank.

  “Inside,” I ordered as we all went into the clubhouse and down to church. Lemon shut the door. Our church room was large and had concrete walls all around it from every angle. Since it was in the basement two of those walls were a given, but we put in two more to make it extra secure.

  Large cherry doors opened wide inside and shut tight to keep everything in the clubhouse secret. There were a lot of those in the club.

  When I became president, the table in the center of the room changed. In the beginning, it was a round, solid cherry wood table with the Ravage insignia of a skull wit
h flames coming out of its head in the center with the name Ravage carved into it.

  Six of us. Brewer, Wrong Way, Hornet, Rooster, Tex and I redid the table. We didn’t touch the original one, keeping all the dents and scratches from years of churches visible. We used the round table as a guide, made a large rectangle and fit it around the original table so it was centered in the middle of it. The outer wood was lighter and varnished making the round one stand out.

  It was large enough to handle our brothers. The new dents and scratches only added to the personality of the piece.

  It was a club vote to change the table, because it wasn’t large enough for all of us, but no way would we lose the original.

  “Check the room,” I ordered as my brothers looked at me. “We don’t have a fuckin’ clue who this could be, so check the fuckin’ room and make sure it’s not bugged.”

  On a nod, we all scattered around the room, searching. Everything could be done wireless these days, making the task of identifying cameras more difficult.

  “Clear,” was called out several times. While I didn’t think any part of the club was bugged, we’d be checking all of it to make sure.

  “Sit,” I ordered, taking my seat at the head of the table. Brewer next to me on one side while Wrong Way was on the other. “Anyone get any indications they were being watched?” The guys instincts were good having that gut that could tell when something was amiss.

  While they would’ve brought it to me as soon as they felt it, I had to ask.

  “No,” came from several around the table.

  Wrong Way spoke, “We’ve got camera on all the stores, stations, and buildings. Goin’ through it all will take time, but if Hornet’s good with it, Jimmy can start looking through them. Lemon just needs to get them up for Jimmy.”

  Lemon was our tech man. He had a lot of skills when it came to computers, yet he was learning how to hack sophisticated systems still. Not quite there yet, but he had promise considering he kept all the shit he was doing under wraps. He’d only been a patched member for three years, the same time I’d been president. He said, “On it,” got up from the table and went down the hallway, no doubt to his room where his computers were.

  He had a room with a bank of screens and several keyboards. How he kept all that shit straight I didn’t know and didn’t care as long as it was done.

  Everything these days was on those damn electronic things, and if Lemon didn’t get his shit together and be able to hack the right places, we’d have to find someone who did. Finding ears and eyes outside the club wasn’t something we were willing to do. Lemon had better pull through.

  Hornet and Rooster rose as one as usual. Those two were stuck together tight all the time. One didn’t go without the other. Anywhere. “We’ll start searching the clubhouse in and out for any eyes or microphones. We have the bug sweep. We’ll do the entire property,” Hornet told the group, throwing out his help. It was the main reason I wanted to become the president of this club. Family. Each of us putting in our bit to help to solve the problems. All of us working together to protect our own.

  “Do we have extra bug sweeps?” I asked Hornet.

  “Think we have three,” he replied.

  That wasn’t very many at all for the job we were going to need to accomplish. I looked down to the end of the table where Bear sat. He was older than my father and had been around since the beginning of the club. He didn’t do much of the grunt work as he called it, but we needed him.

  “Bear. Need you to find three more bug sweeps. Out of town with cash.”

  He nodded. “That I can do.”

  “Thanks. He gets back get everyone on the bugs, room by fuckin’ room. You go to the stores and cut the feed first, then sweep. All hands on deck for this. Go,” I ordered, watching Hornet, Rooster, and Bear leave out the church door.

  I turned to Wrong Way. “First, what did ya find with the store?”

  “Still workin’ on that.”

  “Alright, after that make sure all the paperwork for each of our properties is in the holding companies name and not ours. Know it is, but just want you to double check that one didn’t slip through the cracks. The rental houses, the gas stations, licenses—everything. Don’t know who this fucker is and want everything as clean as possible.”

  “Lucky for me I keep up that shit regularly. It’ll be done in an hour then I’ll get back to the books at the store.” Wrong Way was our secretary. He kept all the documents and numbers going in the right direction. He was so fucking organized he put that Martha Stewart bitch to shame. There was no doubt having to redo all the books that Carlo did was pissing him off more than it was me, which said a lot.

  “And make sure the girls are taken care of.”

  He smiled at this. “That is not a problem.”

  “The minute your brother gets here, I want him in my office,” I told Wrong Way, who nodded and took off.

  Looking around the room, I commanded, “See what everyone needs help with and fill in. Priority one is the bug sweep. Then if you’re free, start at the stores then go to the warehouses.”

  “On it, bossman.” More guys filtered out of the room leaving Brewer and me sitting alone at the table. He and I had a bond for years, and when my dad wanted to step down as president and put me in his spot, Brewer had to be my number two. He was smart, forward thinking, a listener and kick ass brother.

  “What are ya thinkin’? he asked after scoping out the room once more. He was a very cautious man, another admirable trait.

  “I’m thinkin’ we’re gonna get fucked up the ass if we don’t reign this in and now.” Wiping my thumb over my bottom lip in thought, I turned to my second-in-command. “Whoever this is we decapitate them.”

  “On it.”

  Fuck, we needed to figure out who or what this was. Protect the club, always.

  “Kenny, what do ya got for us?” I asked him, leaning my ass into my desk with Wrong Way sitting in front of me in one chair and Kenny in the other. Kenny leaned back in the chair casual as could be.

  “There’s nothin’ on my end, Crow.”

  “You’re sure?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. Kenny was a good man. He upheld the law in Rebellion and looked the other way when it came to Ravage. In return, we kept our city clean from the trash that had threatened to make its way inside the city limits. It was a relationship that worked out well.

  Therefore, he was telling us the truth putting a huge dead end sign on that lead.

  “Thanks, you hear anything you call your brother.”

  “You got it.” Wrong Way took Kenny out of my office and Brewer walked in.

  I shook my head. “He doesn’t know anything. We may need to call in Warden.”

  Brewer sucked in his bottom lip. “You think he’d come back?”

  “He’d better, he still has that patch on his back.”

  “Right,” Brewer said. “I’ll make some calls and see if I can find him.”

  “Do that.” I slapped him on the back as we made our way up the stairs and into the main area of the clubhouse. Grabbing a beer from the cooler, I sat at the bar hating the idea that this could be anyone. I trusted my brothers with everything. The prospects were earning it, but there was always that possibility and as much as I hated to think it, I needed to open my eyes to that possibility.

  The clubhouse door swung open and in walked a very leggy brunette, hand over her nose, blood pouring out of it. Fuck.

  “Tex!”

  Brewer went up to the woman, Stephanie, and wrapped his arm around her waist, sitting her down on a chair by the bar.

  Stephanie had tears rolling down her face, smearing her mascara as it mixed in with the blood.

  “What the fuck happened?” I bellowed, and she stiffened as Brewer gave her a towel to put on her nose and tilted her head back. Stephanie’s eyes were already starting to bruise underneath, and it would only get worse.

  “My guy tonight. I gave him what he wanted. Then he punched me, took
the money back, and left,” she said through a nasally nose.

  “What the fuck?” Tex joined the mix. He was in charge of our stable of thirty-five women. We didn’t pay for pussy, but others sure did. The girls paid us twenty-five percent of what they made for protection and the use of the Ravage name for that purpose, which normally held a weight that no one would fuck with the girl.

  This shit, though. This didn’t happen. This wouldn’t fucking happen. Not on my watch.

  “Steph, who the fuck was it?” Tex asked, kneeling down before her. One thing Tex had was a love for the ladies and a fierce urge to protect them. All in all, it worked out well.

  “Blake Graden, at least that’s the name Goldilocks gave me. He made me call him ‘B’.” Goldilocks took care of the booking and vetting of the men wanting to spend time with the women. She was also Bear’s ol’ lady and a fierce lioness. She gets one look at Stephanie and heads would roll.

  Tex pulled out his phone, tapped on the pad, and put it up to his ear. “Did you vet a Blake Graden?”

  “Right, well Steph is here with a busted nose.” Tex held the phone away from his ear, the sounds of Goldilocks screaming filling the room. Pissed. That was why she was perfect for this job.

  “Goldi!” Tex bellowed in the line. “Need you to pull up everything you have on him and email it to me in the next ten minutes. I’m going to call the doc and get his ass here to set her nose. After the info, need you here for her.”

  “Right.” He swiped the phone off.

  “I’ll take care of this, Crow.”

  “Know you will. Want to know what’s goin’ on. And then we’re payin’ a visit to Blake.”

  He nodded once, then got on the phone calling the doctor, a guy we paid under the table, then going back to Stephanie.

  Brewer came up beside me. “After Tex gets the info, call me. We’re spread thin, but this is a priority.”

  “Got it,” Brewer responded quickly.

  “This fucker will pay.”

  He would, the Ravage way.

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