The President

by Archer, Addy

  C H A P T E R N I N E

  ~ ALARIC ~

  Sitting in the backyard of the clubhouse, I should feel on edge for what’s to come. Yet, I’m calm as fuck. It’s early morning, and my woman is in my bed sleeping after we’ve managed to connect on a whole different level. Twice in one day we took a step forward to get things clear between us.

  For a guy who’s never had a normal relationship with a woman, and the bad examples shown by any father figures in my life, I turned out just fine if you asked me. Or at least I’m getting there. It’s all her, though. Angie. She’s the one who makes it easy, and I honestly think there isn’t another woman around who I have allowed to get this close to me or opened up to. Or hell, want what I have with her.

  “How do you want to handle it?” Hunt says as he takes a seat beside me.

  It’s Friday morning, and he just dropped off his little girl at school. Mundane shit tightly woven with MC business. Raising kids in this world should be terrifying, and yet it makes me more determined to handle everything with an iron fist to keep the ones we care about safe.

  “With my bare hands and a lot of guns after I’m done strangling the life out of that fucking asshole,” I state.

  Hunt snickers. “Thought every detail through, did you?”

  I swing my head to the left and shoot him a grin. “You know it.”

  Hunt puts his feet up on a tree trunk and tips his head slightly back. “I dropped Raven off at school. I never walk her inside the damn classroom because her old teacher stares at me as if she knows me or some shit. No judgment or creepy, I just don’t want the attention or to answer questions. I have to think of Raven. Though, the teacher also respects me acting this way and looks out for her with me always being late and shit. Dammit, I know I have to up my game when it comes to getting her to and from school. That fucking new phone messes shit up with the alarm; I can never seem to get right. And then there’s the babysitter problem. I haven’t been able to call the agency for a new sitter, and I’m guessing they won’t be happy if I call, seeing as I’ve gone through four in one month already. Let’s face it, I’m an asshole to deal with when it comes to my daughter. Those babysitters apparently can’t handle it if I call them out on stuff I’m not liking about them. I’m thinking of just keeping Raven here with Angie when I’m handling shit. If that’s okay. I mean, she offered. Plus, Angie can’t run away with all that shit going on.” The fucker snickers at his own joke, but he’s mistaken.

  “She doesn’t want to run away,” I tell him, my voice fierce. “We’re solid. Shit is starting to get real between us, Hunt. I’m telling you, even if she could walk out that door right fucking now, she’d come running to me instead of leaving. But don’t get too used to having her around all day, every day. She’s looking into getting an education. She needs to do something for herself for a change. Something she hasn’t been forced to do with the shitty life she’s been leading where everyone controlled what she did.”

  “Good for her, man. And for us. Everyone likes having her around, and it’s not just the food or picking up after us. The thing you mentioned of her doing something for herself? Getting an education? Brilliant, she definitely deserves it. She’s a ray of sun in this dark hole,” Hunt says as he stares off into the distance.

  “Tell me about it. And it says enough with you bringing your kid here. You never did before Angie,” I muse, realizing the impact this woman has had on not only me but the club too.

  “Yeah.” Hunt drags out the word, and we sit for a few minutes in complete silence until he says, “So, bare hands first, eh?”

  “He ordered a fucking hit on the club and demanded my woman. I need to feel his life slip through my fingers. Then we’re going to shoot up his whole fucking place. Those fuckers who fired bullets at Dog, Neo, and Brewer need to know whatever they hit us with, we’ll give back and have much more where that came from.”

  “That’s what I like about you. Sending a message and yet letting them figure out how to interpret that shit. It gives us a small window to check in on that fucking MC. We need all the information we can get our hands on to take ’em out at the root,” Hunt says, and we both fall into silence again.

  There’s a truckload of shit heading our way once we set things in motion. Even if all of it can be brought to a standstill by handing over Angie, there’s no way in hell I’d ever consider doing so.

  Not only because she’s mine or how I feel about her, but we simply don’t respond well to threats. Shooting at us has sealed their fate. Doesn’t matter if no one was hurt, it’s the fact they aimed and pulled the motherfucking trigger. They brought our wrath upon them themselves and have to face the consequences.

  I relish in the silence for a few more breaths before I get to my feet and turn to Hunt. “It’s time.” I don’t return to my room because I know I won’t be able to leave her alone in my bed.

  The club had talked things through, and everyone is set; how we handle situations like these is a group decision. Linc is going to stay behind and watch over Angie. Everything is locked up, but still there’s a slight unease nagging me at leaving her behind. But I have to focus on the task at hand.

  We know damn well where Romero lives, and with the eyes we’ve had on his place, we are also aware he’s in there alone. No safety or protection from the MC he claims to have at his beck and call. Strange, and it makes me wonder what the actual link is between these two—other than the drugs he seems to buy from them.

  Romero’s house is remote. There’s a large gate surrounding the place but no guard dogs or security. As far as I can tell, the fucker doesn’t even have cameras keeping an eye out. Either he’s just plain stupid or very confident he can keep himself safe.

  He runs a shady business involving coke and high-class call girls. Both are a combination of a driven need among the rich folk Romero hangs around with. One might wonder why this fucker is fussing over one damn whore and a few grand when you glance at his house. Outer appearance screams a wealth of money, but I guess that’s just it, outer appearance.

  Hunt did some digging, and when he stumbled into Romero’s bank account, it wasn’t hard to guess why he wants a replacement for the cash he’s missing out on. The fucker has some huge debts of his own. The bank is going to take his house next.

  And from the information Lexi gave us from one of the whores who also works for Romero from time to time, he lost a stash of coke and hasn’t been able to repay the cash he owes to the MC who supplied it.

  Now all of this makes sense why Romero would risk his life going head-to-head with us. Because the fucker basically has nothing to live for if he can’t come up with the money anyway. Not my problem, though. Like I said, it all ends here. We will reach out to the other MC when we’ve handled Romero, seeing as the both of us have issues with the fucker.

  I don’t know why Trigger Pull MC has kept Romero alive. If we had someone dragging us around by our balls, yeah, that’s a no. We wouldn’t give ’em the chance to grab us by the balls in the first place. It’s the whole reason I sliced the whore’s neck the first chance I had after I knew she stole from us.

  And the reason Myk followed in death right after. Well, maybe not right after because I kept him alive for almost a day. Slicing his throat would have been too easy. There had to be hours of torture to soothe all our anger and frustration. It was a group effort. All of us chipped in to make sure he died a painful death.

  “I have an eerie feeling about this. You sure we shouldn’t keep the fucker alive and then discuss the whole thing with Trigger Pull MC? And for the record, what the fuck is with them and the crazy name. Trigger Pull, as if that would scare anyone, it only makes me roll my eyes,” Neo states.

  Hunt, Dog, Brewer—hell, everyone glares at Neo as I snap, “For the record, I could roll my damn eyes. What the fuck is wrong with you questioning a club decision?”

  Neo is inspecting his boots and knows damn well running his mouth isn’t helping the situation. Of course we talked it
through, and it would be a smart thing to reach out first or question why they’re helping and keeping Romero alive because it doesn’t make sense. But those fuckers were the ones who fired their guns at us. We’ve passed the point of discussion.

  Hence the reason Romero is dead meat. Neo finds a way for us to slip inside, and we all enter the house. No alarm, nothing. I’m palming my gun, but I made it very clear we don’t kill him on sight. I need my time with him, and a bullet to the head is an easy exit strategy he’s not allowed to take.

  Shitty music greets us as we split into groups of three to search the house. Hunt and Dog have my back as I head for the living room where the music is coming from. My gun is aimed right at Romero’s head, but it’s useless because the fucker is not on this world. From the looks of the scene in front of us, he’s flying off on a high from all the drugs he’s consumed.

  Knowing Dog and Hunt are here with me, I tuck away my gun and grab the belt beside Romero. Shoving the fucker off the couch and on the floor, I tie his arms behind his back. Slowly, the guys make their way into the living room after securing the house. There’s no one here except for Romero.

  “We knew he was in debt, but are you seeing this? Man, he’s down to nothing,” Brewer says as he whistles low.

  The only thing left in the living room is the couch this asshole was sitting on and the table in front of him where a few hundred bucks of drugs is spread out on and the damn phone where the music is blasting out of. I make sure to turn it off and plunge the room into silence.

  That is until Dog quips, “I wonder how he’s giving all the whores fancy clothes and expensive hotel rooms to fuck in. He doesn’t have shit.”

  “I don’t fucking care,” I snap. “Let’s get this over with. Throw this fucker in the truck and let’s shoot up this place.”

  My guys jump into action, and the only sound left is our guns being checked and ready for action. Neo gets back from throwing Romero in the truck, leaving Brewer waiting outside to keep an eye on things.

  I glance to my left and address Hunt. “You ready to spread some holes and pump some lead into these walls?”

  “Fuck, yeah,” he replies as I hear muffled sounds.

  “You hearing what I’m hearing?” I question, but I can tell he did from the look in his eyes.

  “I thought we cleared the whole damn house,” Hunt grumbles and glances around, trying to find out where the noise is coming from.

  Neo shoves the couch out of the way, revealing a floor hatch. All our guns are pointed in this direction as Hunt gives Neo a nod, indicating he can open it.

  It’s all darkness inside until Hunt shines a light from his phone. A body is sprawled out, and the only things moving are fists pounding on the floor. That’s what was making the muffled sounds.

  Neo gets in and, with help from two others, he’s able to get the woman out. A scrawny little thing. She looks barely twenty years old, but with all that dirt it’s hard to tell. From the looks of her and the hole she was in, I’d say she’s been down there for quite some time.

  “Get her into the truck too, Neo. We’ll deal with her when we get back to the clubhouse,” I tell him before addressing the others. “Close the floor hatch, put the couch back where it was, and I’ll shoot up the place. We’re wasting time here, now move.”

  I wait until everyone is outside and stalk through Romero’s home, letting bullets fly, and head out when silence falls upon the house. I glance around, and it’s good to see the result I had in mind is now reality. Each room in Romero’s house carries bullet holes. Seeing as Romero was the one who voiced the threat and works with Trigger Pull MC, I imagine they will come here when they don’t hear from him, and they’ll get the message I left here.

  If not, it isn’t my problem. I’ve made my point, as they made theirs, and if they come into town again, we’ll be ready to deal with them. For now I have Romero to deal with, and we suddenly have a girl along with it. I wonder why he had her locked up underneath his house.

  During the time it takes to get to our destination, I let my mind picture all the things I want to do with Romero. We arrive at the warehouse we use for drawn-out torture scenes; it’s remote and has a plastic room that is all set up for easy disposal. Hunt and I stalk over to the truck, and he grabs Romero and drags him to the warehouse, handing him over to Brewer once he’s at the door.

  “Neo, take the girl back to the clubhouse. Call Linc and have him put her in the house at the back of the property. Make sure Angie doesn’t witness that shit, because I don’t want her to know, okay? She has enough things to worry about. No need to add this shit too. Tell Linc to make sure he locks her up good so we can deal with who the fuck she is later.”

  Neo nods at my words and takes his phone in hand. Hunt comes up next to me. “I’ve told half the guys to go with Neo back to the clubhouse. The others are staying here to clean up when we’re done.”

  “Thanks,” I tell my VP and release a sigh. “I wonder who the girl is and why the hell he kept her locked away from the world. She seemed young.”

  “No damn clue. This whole situation is getting weirder by the minute.” Hunt shakes his head as we stroll inside the warehouse. “Romero not having shit in his home and looking like a damn junky while he’s supposed to be this hotshot high-class pimp doesn’t add up at all. While I get the whole shooting up and getting high if he’s lost it all and hit rock bottom. But, come on, why drag us into this shit too? Last line of defense? Did that fucker seriously think we’d hand over a woman along with a truckload of cash for him to jumpstart his own business?”

  I shake my head. “Gotta remember, Hunt, people do weird shit when they’re cornered and have no way out of their fucked-up life. But he sure has nothing to be worried about now. His final minutes are ticking by, and with all the drugs pumping through his body, I doubt he’s even going to notice.”

  “Shame. I kinda was looking forward in hearing some good screams,” Hunt mutters as we get to the back of the wide space that’s covered with plastic.

  We head for the little room on the left where we find some black clothing. We replace our own clothes with disposable ones and head back to where Romero is now strapped to a chair. He might be all drugged up, but his eyes are trying to process where the hell he is and what the fuck is going on. Things might get interesting after all.

  I grab the belt I used to tie his arms and get rid of it by throwing it on the floor behind me. Romero turns slightly and starts to squirm. Seeing we found the fucker in only boxer shorts, it’s all he has on.

  A moment ago he looked off his rocker, but his next words makes it pretty clear he’s aware what’s going on. “Alaric, come on, man, what’s the deal here? You know how things work. We all need to run a business, and you took something from me,” Romero starts, as if the fucker has anything to say I want my ears to process.

  Deciding I can indulge for a few second, I slowly cross my arms in front of my chest. “Here’s the thing, Romero. The whore you thought was yours? She was working for us, and you know it. Now we allow our whores to take side jobs every now and then, and that’s on them if shit hits the fan. The whore in question made a debt with you, but she had one with us too. Then she decided she could use some more cash and stole from us. That’s where she made her mistake and got what she deserved. See? This shit has nothing to do with you, but you decided you were tired of living and invited us to end you. You damn well sealed your own fate when you demanded I’d hand over my old lady. Grave mistake, asshole.”

  “I didn’t know,” Romero whines. “Please. The whore stole from me too. Not just money but a stash of coke. She and Myk, they took it, and now I’m in debt with Trigger Pull MC. They took everything I had, man. My stuff, my money, my whores, my whole damn business. I have nothing left. I need to get it back. I know you and the whore’s sister have the kind of cash I need to buy my life back. It’s all their fault, please. We can work things out. I can work for you.”

  A feral smile spreads over my fa
ce as I lean in and take Romero’s hand in both of mine. Patting it, I say, “Now, now, Romero. Sounds like you’re in a lot of trouble, huh? Trouble I can easily get you out of, and I will.”

  “You will?” He sighs in hopeful relief.

  “Absolutely, and I can do it quick, but where’s the fun in that? Right, Hunt?” I shoot a glance at Hunt before giving Romero my attention.

  “The hard way is more fun, Pres. It should always be the fucking hard way.” Hunt snickers, knowing very well what’s to come.

  I wrap my hand around one of Romero’s fingers and break it in one fast move. Romero howls and fights uselessly against the straps securing him to the chair, trying to get up. Taking my time, I break every finger on both hands, and when I’m done, I step away to appreciate my handywork. Romero is sobbing in the chair, staring at his awkwardly angled fingers.

  “You want a hammer to smash his toes next?” Hunt chuckles.

  I stare at the fucker who threatened my old lady and brought unnecessary heat to the club. As I think it over, I realize how I’m wasting time dragging out the inevitable. I’d rather deal with more pressing matters, like who the fuck the girl is and how to handle the MC who challenged us.

  I slowly shake my head. “Nah, this guy ain’t worth the mess.”

  Stepping forward, I grab the fucker by the throat and start to crush his windpipe. Seeing him fight for his life while I enjoy watching it slip away underneath my touch gives me a small thrill of victory.

  The way he smacks his hands and broken fingers, trying to fight against my grip but not being able to fight me off makes a smile paint my lips before his body slowly goes limp. Minutes tick by before Romero has finally left this earth. I step away from his body and glance around me.

  “What?” I chuckle. “I know I could have done that shit at his house, but being there too long was a risk. And to be honest? Would you like some pimp blood on you? The whole cleaning up is messy enough as it is.”

  “True.” Hunt shrugs. “But I’m a bit surprised you didn’t ask about the girl. And call me freaky, but I like seeing some knife play from you. It always cheers me the fuck up, and now I feel cheated.”