Blow Out (Steel Veins Book 1)

by Jackson Kane

  All it took now was one mistake to get her killed.

  I drew a mental map and formulated a plan while attempting to make sense of the function of each room we passed. In one, I saw a couple strapped to a chair, bloodied and crying. Obviously an interrogation. Another had men checking and cleaning excessive amounts of heavy weapons. The Lobos were getting intel that was preparing them for war. Being that the Lobos had always hated the Veins, I had a feeling that we were going to be their first target.

  The Lobos chaperoning us halted outside what appeared to be the boardroom.

  All this time, I hadn’t let on that I knew Spanish and had overheard them talking about what they thought was going to happen to us on the drive over. It wasn’t good.

  The Lobo in charge of our little party knocked, opened the door, and strode in, closing it behind him.

  “They’ll try to use you against me,” I whispered to Star. “Stay as passive as possible, and I’ll get us through this.”

  “What are they going to do to us?” Her voice quivered.

  “Shut the fuck up!” The Lobo behind us jabbed me in the back with the buttstock of his shotgun.

  The force kicked me forward a step and riddled me with rib-shaking pain.

  The door opened and we were brought in. The men inside sat around a long, mahogany table, smoking and drinking. I had already researched these members as they stepped up to their positions within the club. The club was bastardized with Spanish and English terminology in not just titles but everything else as well. There was Spyder—sargento de armas. Wopo—secretario. Abuello—treasurer. Odd Six—road captain. Flaco—V.P. And, of course, Bones—Lobos presidente.

  “Poet, right?” Bones was first to speak. “I hear you’re outdoors now. You must’ve done something pretty serious for the Veins to send a kill team after you.” Bones was bald and wore a thin mustache. He had anatomic bones tattooed on his hands and forearms. Reputation-wise, he was a calm, methodical man, not typically prone to sudden, impulsive violence, although he didn’t shy away from it when he determined it was necessary.

  “I killed Rio, Deadeye’s kid,” I replied.

  This raised some eyebrows.

  He immediately sent Papa, the Lobo who had brought us in, leave to call around for verification.

  “Rio was next in line to step up. Why kill him? Lovers’ quarrel?” Bones snarked as he quaffed his beer.

  “He was weak. Between him and his father, they turned the Veins into pussies.” I knew I needed to build trust and commonality with Bones.

  “Deadeye’s an old fool,” Bones snorted. “I was told you had something I want?”

  “A fool or not, Deadeye knows you’re gearing up for war despite how quiet you’ve been lately. They’re gunning for you,” I kept my tone neutral and informative. I couldn’t look like I was threatening him, otherwise he would have to retaliate to save face.

  “How would he know a thing like that?”

  “The Veins have been around forever, Bones. They’ve got informants everywhere—” I looked skeptically around the room, determined to sow the seeds of discord. “—in every club. You’ve been expanding a lot lately. That must cut down on the time your boys spend as prospects. How well do you really know your new patches?”

  Bones smiled, chucking quietly to himself. He didn’t bother scanning the room. Instead, he just kept his eyes on me. “And who’s to say you’re not completely full of shit?” He crossed his arms steadfastly.

  Some of his officers did appear concerned that what I was saying might be true. Were there snitches in their ranks? I had no idea. But that’s what I wanted them to think.

  “The Pick and Pay that went up last night, that was one of yours, right? Same thing with the Super 8 earlier today? Any of your boys make it out of that alive?” I spoke evenly and took a few pauses to heighten my emphasis. I couldn’t rush this. All the events of the last twenty-four hours culminated in this bluff. “The Steel Veins are testing the water. Gauging your response time, manpower, reach, tactics, everything. They know there’s a war coming, and they want it on their terms. Reach out to your networks. You’ll see that I’m right.”

  “And what?” Bones asked. “The disillusioned former head of a SV kill team is gonna jump ship and help their biggest rival?”

  I nodded slowly. “I killed the national president’s son. You give us asylum, and I’ll help you tear them apart. I know how and when they’re going to hit you.”

  This was the double-cross. I didn’t want asylum. For as much as I hated what we’d become, the Steel Veins would always be my family, and I would never sell them out to the Lobos. But right now, I needed the Lobos to think I would.

  Bones pondered my words for a long while.

  Everything I had read about him led me to believe he was a deliberate man who only took calculated risks. With him, I’d have the best shot of getting Star to safety and maybe even pulling this crazy plan off.

  He began to speak when the doors were kicked open.

  With all the officers here, who the hell would dare to come in the boardroom without knocking? I didn’t bother turning around, as I wanted to see Bones’s reaction to the intrusion to see how in control of the club he was.

  That was a mistake.

  A cane struck the back of my legs, dropping me to my knees. A boney, old hand wrapped around my neck and smashed my face into the side of a table. I came down hard on that mahogany. Fortunately, I turned my head to the side to not shatter my nose, but intense pain radiated through me despite my position change. I heard Star gasp, and the last thing I saw before my vision blanked out was her hands covering her pretty face. All things considered, having her be the last thing I would ever see wasn’t a bad way to go.

  “Any of you pencil-dick fucks wanna tell me why the fuck this Steel Vein is still fuckin’ breathing?”

  “Been a long time, Roughneck. We were just hearing him out," Flaco, a short, thin man like his namesake, offered hesitantly.

  No shit.

  John “Roughneck” Mitchim was short-tempered and had a chip on his shoulder after being kicked out of the Steel Veins back in the Seventies. He was the founder of Los Lobos and was apparently still alive and well despite the fact he’d stepped down almost a decade ago due to health problems then fell off the map completely. Men in this line of work didn’t tend to live as long as Roughneck had.

  I’d written him off as dead. That was another mistake.

  John created Los Lobos MC with a small group of Mexican-Americans because they weren’t allowed to join the Veins back in the day. That was a time where all the clubs were pretty racist. Because one of the Steel Veins founders was black, we had some leniency but not much unfortunately. A lot had changed since then. Now it was more about being vouched for rather than skin color; otherwise, my buddy Tee never would’ve been allowed in. The Aryans were still old-world believers though, but those fucking tiny-dick skinheads had always been on the wrong side of history.

  “Let him up. He’s our guest… for now,” Bones ordered, unconcerned about upsetting Roughneck. It was good to see Bones had some balls. “Remy here wants protection in exchange for helping us take down the Steel Veins.”

  “An’ you believe ’im?” Roughneck roared indignantly, pushing me down harder. “Only good fuckin’ Steel Vein is a dead fuckin’ Steel Vein! We kill ’em; then we rip ’em apart! I don’t give two pulls of my withered pecker fer what he says he’s gonna do fer us!”

  Looks like Roughneck survived long enough to completely lose his goddamn mind. Maybe the health problem that forced him to step down was actually insanity.

  “Sorry, Bones. I thought you were el presidente de Los Lobos? Did I come to the wrong club? I’m sure the Angels wouldn’t’ve minded if I swung by for a visit,” I lightheartedly responded through gritted teeth. It was tough to get the words out with Roughneck’s hands mashing my face into the table. I hoped some prodding would bolster Bones’s position.

  Lobos hated the Angels almos
t as much as the Veins.

  “John.” Bones’s tone finally carried the weight of his position. Calling Roughneck by his birth name like that was a show of dominance.

  “Fine.” Roughneck released me. He was old and stood crookedly to one side, but still was surprisingly strong. He wore his long, straggly hair beneath a worn bandana and let his frayed beard remain wild and unkempt. Hate and habit must be the only things that kept Roughneck vertical.

  It was as if the room was filled with eggshells. The other officers didn’t know how to act around Roughneck, so they kept their mouths shut and deferred to Bones.

  I rose to spit out a thick wad of blood and phlegm onto the floor.

  “But he don’t need no fuckin’ whore around fer his jaws to flap.” John’s gnarled fingers grabbed Star’s hair, jerking her to his bent level, and she screamed at the abrupt move.

  “She’s part of the deal,” I growled with the promise of severe retaliation, glaring directly at Bones, barely halting Roughneck from slicing her throat then and there. I displayed that I would only deal with the club’s current president, further limiting Roughneck’s authority. “She stays alive, or you get nothing.”

  Bones held up a hand as his cell rang, and he answered it. When the conversation was over, he stood up to address the room, “Rio’s dead. Looks like Poet’s telling the truth. Roughneck’s right, though. Why should we keep her alive?”

  Roughneck laughed, tugging at the knot that kept Star’s shirt closed around her midriff. He attempted to loosen it but couldn’t do it with just one hand. Star was a smart girl for tying it tightly on the drive over here just in case.

  Everyone was now focused on Star. Her eyes went wider than I’d ever seen. Of course, she didn’t know what to say. With the cold edge of a blade to her throat, she had trouble drawing in full breaths, but she was still here, though. If I told her something, she would at least hear it and be able to act upon it. Any other girl I knew, and most guys for that matter, would be catatonic in her heels right now.

  “Because I can give you something much better.” I pulled out a cigarette, taking my time to light it, and took a drag before continuing. I knew they were trying to make me feel rushed and uneasy, so I took another pull like I had all the time in the world. “I can give you Lorenzo.”

  Caballo cursed in Spanish before switching to English. “Lorenzo escaped before we got there.”

  “What do you want more? Some innocent girl’s blood staining your nice floor or the man who tried to kill your cousin? You harm her, and my lips are sealed.” I casually took another puff. “I won’t give a shit what you do to me.”

  “Where is he?” Bones was skeptical.

  “Not until we got a deal.” I shook my head.

  “A life for a life, then,” Bones agreed.

  “On your word?” It wasn’t the best way to do business, but my sleeves were running out of aces. At least there were witnesses present. I could call him out on his honor if I had to, but I wasn’t sure how well that would work.

  “Si. On my word.” He nodded. “Where is he?”

  “In the trunk of the car we came over in.”

  Bones cocked his head to Caballo, and the portly man ran off to check. He tried to hide it, but I could see the eagerness in Bones’s eyes. He wanted Lorenzo badly for attempting to kill his favorite cousin.

  I turned to address Roughneck. “Now give the lady some breathing room, or I’ll come over there and do it for you.”

  “If Lorenzo isn’t in that trunk, I’ll kill her myself,” Bones interjected with a tone that said he wasn’t bluffing.

  The whole time Caballo was gone, I was completely focused on Star, reassuring her with my eyes that she was going to be fine. The knife was a hairsbreadth from spilling her life out all over the carpet, and she knew it. I mouthed the word “breathe” at her. She nodded, and her faint, short breaths lengthened. The rapidity in her chest falls steadied.

  Roughneck saw this and lowered the knife to let her breathe a little easier then brought it quickly back into her. The twisted old man raised her as high as he could until she squeaked or grunted anxiously, then let her down. He slapped her throat with the flat of the blade all the while staring at me before putting the point of his knife into her shoulder just enough to draw blood then brought it back against her throat.

  We both knew he couldn’t actually kill her without Bones’s consent, but that didn’t stop him from torturing her just to get a rise out of me. For as much as I wanted to tear his fucking head off, we both knew I wouldn’t be fast enough to stop him if he decided to kill her.

  Bones’s phone went off.

  “Someone’s in the trunk,” he casually replied while texting. “Pretty beaten up though.”

  “He was alive when I put him in there.” I fought to keep the growl from my voice. “Now call off the ghost of Christmas past here.”

  “In good time. Let’s see if it’s the man you say it is.” Bones put his phone away and studied me for signs of breaking.

  As long as Star was alive, he wouldn’t find any.

  It was an eternity until the Lobos dragged Lorenzo in, throwing him into the room like a bloody sack of potatoes. Aside from his bruises, broken nose, and busted jaw, I left him mostly recognizable. The Lobos probably also worked him over a little when they pulled him out of the trunk.

  “Hola, Lorenzo. It’s good to see you, my friend.” Bones walked across the room and squatted down to meet him eye to eye. “We have much to discuss.”

  Lorenzo immediately started talking, but he was having an extremely difficult time pulling in enough air. Any words that came out were a breathy, garbled mess.

  Talk your way out of this one, asshole! I mentally snarked as I watched Bones stand back up and kick him squarely in the face.

  “Cuff this maldito hijo de puta to a chair in the next room. I’ll be over in a few minutes.” Bones spat on the man then spread his fingers across his mustache in what looked like a triggering mechanism to force himself to calm back down.

  Lorenzo coughed out teeth and gore, leaving a blood trail behind him as they dragged him out of the room.

  “Let her go.” Bones was riled up at seeing his old adversary but level-headed enough not to let himself lose control.

  Roughneck reluctantly complied, shoving her toward me.

  I caught her and brushed her hair from her face.

  “You kept your word and did something none of my own men could do. You delivered me Lorenzo. Thank you. So I’ll keep mine. A life for a life. She may live.” Bones turned his back to me and wiped Lorenzo’s blood off his shoes with a handkerchief. “Pero, tú, mi amigo, a pesar de ser útil, sigues siendo un Steel Vein.”

  Damn. Sobering resignation washed over me as a smirk crept across my lips. “Star,” I whispered to her, “in the end, looks like you saved me.”

  Bones discarded the cloth and pulled a gun from one of his hanging dual-shoulder holsters then turned around to face me.

  “Remy! What’s going on? I don’t understand?” Star’s beautiful hazel eyes became shining pools of dread as they started to water. She didn’t know what was coming, but she knew something was very, very wrong.

  The climate in the room shifted as everyone backed away from me and Star.

  Roughneck giggled like a storybook witch, but Bones wore an expression more of resignation than of malice. The rest of the men were caught somewhere between surprise and satisfaction.

  My smirk deepened to a full, honest smile as I looked only at the angel in front of me. I touched my forehead to hers and breathed Star in as deep as my lungs could carry her. I let her scent fill my soul. When she tried to hug me, I used all the willpower I had left and shoved her away as hard as I could.

  My soul, I chuckled as Bones raised his gun. Something I had only regained by having known her.

  For the first time since Maria, I felt like everything was okay.

  I was okay.

  I’d only known Star for such a short time
, but I couldn’t imagine my life withou—

  Blam!

  Blam! Blam!

  Blam!

  Blam!

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Star

  “No! No, no, no, no! Remy!” The scream swelled from every fiber of my body as I looked on with horror. This couldn’t be happening!

  The bullets punched into Remy’s chest and arms. The final round skipped off the side of his head. This all didn’t seem real at first, but then the dark holes in his clothing filled with color. Four sickening roses bloomed from him.

  I couldn’t move.

  Or breathe.

  Or think.

  The room was silent as a grave. Smoke rose from Bones’s exhausted gun barrel, but Remy was still standing somehow. Remy turned his head to confront Bones with a defiant look. A line of flesh on his cheek where the bullet glanced off him had been burned and tore away. Remy’s cheekbone peeked out before immediately sinking beneath a river of blood.

  I could only gaze on, feeling absolutely helpless.

  “Sorry, Poet. You know how it goes. Only good Vein is a dead Vein.” Bones reloaded his pistol.

  Remy teetered, defiantly mouthing some words at Bones.

  “Speak up, mi amigo.” Bones raised his freshly reloaded gun to finish the job, then lowered it when Remy’s legs finally gave out. Bones looked impressed by Remy’s sheer power of will. “You claw your way outta Hell, come see me. I’ll put you to work.”

  Openly sobbing, I hurried to Remy who’d collapsed in a pool of his own blood. One of the bikers cursed at us and approached to spit on him, but Bones scolded the man and stopped him. Dropping to my knees, cradling Remy’s limp form, I could barely see anything at all through the tears and mucus streaming out of me.