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 wa
s 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.
“That’s bullshit. If they don’t want they need to stop doing the ‘fucked up shit’ as you say,” Odie cried.
“Any time one of the women goes to court, especially with one of us as an escort, it alerts the cops. And alerting the cops only shines the light brighter on their business dealings. It’s not exactly easy to run drugs and guns with the cops breathing up their asses,” Brutus said.
He turned to me. “I hope you’ve heard what’s going on there.”
“I’ve heard rumors,” I admitted. “And I was hoping you could tell us whether they were true or not?”
I’d sent Brutus down to Barstow and other towns that were further south. It was about an hour’s ride from Ridgecrest once we broke out onto the freeway, and he was more than happy to do it. He nodded and looked around the table.
“It’s absolutely true, and no one is happy about it,” he said. “The authorities down there are all on high alert, but with the gangs getting involved every time someone takes a shit, there’s not much they can do about it. They’ve got their hands full with the violence in the streets, which is enabling the Souls to swoop down, grab the goods, and distribute accordingly.”
“What are you talking about?” Odie asked.
“The cartel, kid,” Axle replied, turning back to him.
“Fuck the cartel!” Javi, an ex-member of the Mexican Cartel, hated the group with a passion. I wasn’t entirely sure of all the details with what happened in his life, but I knew he would put it on the line to stop them from hurting anyone else.
“Clearly this isn’t something we’re going to let continue,” I said, cutting into the conversation. “Which is why tomorrow, we’re going to head down to Barstow and take a look around.”
All the men around the table lifted their beers.
“And finally, there’s one more thing I wanted to do,” I said before closing the meeting. I nodded toward Gunner who was seated to my left, and he reached under the table, pulling out a box.
All the men watched as I opened it, but it was Odie who beamed when I pulled out the vest complete with the Angels’ patch.
“It’s now official, and you better wear it well,” I said as I handed it to him. He stared at it in disbelief and put it on with a grin on his face.
“You bet your ass I will,” he said with a grin. He held himself higher at the table with it on, and both Javi and Axle clapped him on the back. I was glad he finally had a cut to wear along with the rest of us. The more unified we were, the better.
When we were facing not only Satan’s Souls but the cartel as well, we’d need to be as unified as possible.
“Is it Irish?” Gunner asked as we stared at the name of the bar.
“St. Peter’s? Wasn’t he Catholic?” Axle asked.
“Is there such a thing as a Catholic bar?” Brutus chimed in.
“There’s Irish bars, and there are a lot of Catholic Irishman,” Gunner retorted, “That’s why I asked.”
“Who cares what religion or nationality they are,” I said as I pushed through the three of them. “As long as they serve alcohol, I don’t really give a shit.”
The four of us had ridden down to Barstow earlier that afternoon with the intent of getting as many details about what was going on with the cartel as possible. We’d heard back home that there was a large trade deal that was about to be signed between the Souls and the cartel, and I wasn’t sure if that was just hearsay or truth.
I didn’t want to believe it was true. There were a lot of good people in the town, and to think that they would open up that level of a drug trade made me sick to my stomach. It had taken so long for us back home to clear out the streets as best we could, and it was still an ongoing battle.
I also wasn’t too keen on starting a war with Cutter all over again. We were at odds, fighting over the pettiest things right then. But if I were to get involved with something like this, it could turn into a full-on blood bath.
We were going to have to proceed with caution, that was for damn sure.
We walked into the crowded bar. There was a haggard looking man standing behind the counter, trying to keep up with the demands of the customers. We had arrived right before the shift change, and he was clearly looking for the other bartender who was meant to take over for him.
The patrons, however, didn’t care that he was overworked and tired. All they knew was that they wanted their drinks and they wanted them now.
We sauntered in, looking for a place to sit down and held back for a few minutes, letting the shift change take place before we headed up to the bar to grab a few drinks ourselves. I scanned the faces that were scattered all over the bar, looking for any cuts with an emblem sewn on.
As I looked around the room, an involuntary groan escaped my lips. Over on the other side of the room, was Cutter himself.
He and I had crossed paths more times than I cared to count, and he was clearly already well past intoxicated. He was laughing and talking with other members of his MC, and I immediately pointed him out to my comrades.
“That’s our guy,” I said.
They nodded. We weren’t going to be making a scene. No, we were just going to see how much we could find out. I just wanted to know how much was going down with the cartel, and he was the man to talk to. But I didn’t want to talk to him directly. Hell no. That would be the most counterproductive plan I could possibly embrace. The man hated me as much as I hated him, and he wouldn’t tell me shit if his life depended on it.
I would have to play it cool and see if I could catch any of the conversation around the room.
But, even in the crowded bar, it didn’t take him long to notice us. Sure, we were on his turf, but it was as though he had a radar in his head. We’d barely managed to get a pitcher of beer in front of us from the poor overwhelmed bartender before he came sauntering our way.
“Hello, boys,” he drawled. “You a bit out of your way tonight, huh?”
“We thought it was a good night for a ride,” I replied. “Thought we’d stop for a drink.”
“Uh-huh,” he said. “In Barstow?”
“In Barstow,” I said with a nod.
“So, I’m assuming, you were either intending to be here, or you were further south,” he pressed.
“That’s not your business,” I replied coolly. I felt the tension from my brothers around me, but they remained in their seats. The air was getting thick with aggression, and I squeezed my pint glass to keep control.
“Turns out it is,” he replied. “You see, you don’t come this far south without reason.”
“We did tonight.”
“Why? You spying on us?” he nearly shouted.
“Is there a reason to?” I asked.
/> “There’s no reason for you to be here!” he was still talking way too loudly, and several of the other patrons in the bar were starting to look in our direction.
“Sounds like you’ve got something to hide,” I said with a smirk. “Are you afraid we’re going to find out something we shouldn’t?”
“Get the fuck out of here,” he barked.
“Or what?” I challenged. “You going to call the cops? Not what I’d recommend.”
“Really?” he smiled. “Then what would you recommend?”
“I’d recommend you pull your head out of your ass and fuck off with the cartel,” I said with a smile of my own. The look on his face froze. I suddenly realized he probably didn’t know we had any idea what he was doing, and he wasn’t happy about it.
For a second, nothing at all happened. But then, he lunged.
Instinct kicked in immediately, and I punched him square in the face. At that moment, all hell broke loose, and the entire bar erupted into a brawl. I lost sight of my buddies, but I knew they were there, fighting just as hard as I was.
We were outnumbered, but we were soldiers and damn if a part of me hadn’t missed a good, bloody fight.
4
Megan
“Can anything else go wrong with this shit ass day?” I muttered to myself as I looked at the flat tire on my car. I was careful not to swear when I was at the school, but when I was off, I talked nearly as badly as my brother. I blamed him for that, too.
He was the one who introduced me to that side of life, and it was hard to break the habits. Though I’d never been particularly interested in the organized crime he seemed to thrive on, I did get sucked into some of their habits.
Hell, I had almost ended up hooked on drugs myself at one point. It was one terrible night that nearly cost me my life that caused me to turn it all around. It inspired me to go to college, get my degree, and dedicate my life to helping kids avoid making the same mistakes that I had.
Protecting Her: An Enemies to Lovers Romance Page 2