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Blaze
“How’s it goin, brother?” Torch questions with a grumble as I take my spot in church. Viking’s not in here yet, it’s just me, Torch, and Smokey. Those two are always here first; I guess the secretary and death dealer are more responsible than the rest of us.
I toss Smokey my club dues and shrug at Torch. I throw back my tumbler that’s half full of Jack, and the liquid doesn’t burn enough. Not like it used to. “She started crying last night,” I quietly share, not caring for the way it makes me feel saying it aloud.
His brows jump, and he emits a low whistle between his teeth. His canines look sharp as fuck. The motherfucker reminds me of some kind of vampire or some shit when he shows his teeth. “Making progress already?”
“Hard to tell,” I say, moving my gaze around the quiet room and empty chairs. “Only a few days in. Plus, she’s off all that shit she’d been putting in her body. The doc said it could make her moody and emotional. I figure she’ll be here long enough to detox off it all and maybe come back down to fuckin’ reality.”
He shakes his head, flabbergasted. “Hard to believe a woman that book smart would want to do that to her body.”
“Bro, it’s the fake media feeding these women all this bullshit that we’re trying to take over the world. They need to come to terms that we took that shit over way back, but there have been plenty of women in charge too. Shit, most of the powerful men in the world have a strong woman right beside them. The news is so concerned with twisting us to look like evil villains, they leave off the part about us coveting our women.” I sigh, disgruntled. “They forget to mention that we try to help women succeed, too, and we don’t think they’re below us.”
“Glad I don’t have to deal with that shit. Annabelle won’t grow up believing any of that bullshit. She’ll see firsthand what real men are,” he grumbles.
“When’s Flame get out of the pen?” His baby momma has been locked up for years. He doesn’t speak about her to any of us, but I know he keeps tabs. He has to for Annabelle’s sake. If Flame ever got out, she’d want her daughter back; of that, I have no doubt.
“Last I heard, not anytime soon. She keeps getting more time added on...you know how she is.”
“She finds out you’re here, she’ll come for her daughter.”
He shrugs. “Won’t be the first time I dealt with the crazy bitch.”
“Crazy is putting it lightly; she’s on another level.”
His lips turn up. He knows I’m right. Though with Torch’s mean ass, it’s only expected he’d end up stuck with the wildest chick out of everyone. He tried to cut ties when she got locked away, but Flame won’t let him off that easy. She gets out, and she’ll be on a warpath once she discovers he and Annabelle aren’t still in the Carolinas.
The door swings open and we’re interrupted by several brothers. They nod their hellos and toss money at Smokey for their club dues. Viking takes his place at the head of the table and waits for a few beats until everyone’s inside and seated before he hits the gavel to call church in session.
“Lotta shit to get through today,” he barks, cracking his knuckles.
We echo with our own grumbles, not fond of being brought into church so damn early. We usually do this shit later in the day after we’ve had a chance to sleep off part of our hangovers.
He carries on. “I’ve been in touch with the Nomads. Spider tells me that border patrol is struggling. With more illegals crossing by the day, it’s too much for them to fight with the cartel as well. They’re getting hit from all directions. ICE has been doing raids on the down low, and from what I hear, the government is dispatching soldiers down south. Everything is being kept quiet, out of the mainstream media, to avoid a press shitshow that seems to be happening constantly. Luckily, Exterminator still has undercover connections; otherwise, we’d be fucked as far as this intel goes.”
Nightmare lightly raps his knuckles against the table and asks, “So what’s the plan? What are we going to do about it?”
“Normally, I’d recommend that we keep our noses the fuck outta it. Those cartel fuckers know Texas is Oath Keepers’ turf. We have the largest MC presence in the state. They’ll be expecting the Nomads, but they won’t be expecting two clubs riding. I’ve spoken to Ares. It’s time we pony up and show them we don’t take kindly to their unauthorized distribution and murders in our state. The sex trade is bad enough, but they start throwing in the other shit, and we have to put a stop to it. Give them the boot.”
“‘Bout motherfuckin’ time,” Night growls, and Saint starts twitching with excitement. He’s been cooped up for too long; the brother needs some crazy in his life.
“Torch will man the club. Smokey, you’ll stay back with him. We’ll lock down the compound, but also make sure all your ol’ ladies are strapped. Take them out shooting tonight to get them practicing and brushing up on their aims. Ares’s chapter is doing the same. They’re loading the ol’ ladies up with plenty of ammo and telling them to shoot first and ask questions later.”
Sinner chin-lifts, garnering our attention. He shakes his head. “We’ve tried to teach Jude. She’s good with a knife, but she’s not confident with a Glock.”
Chaos nods. “She’s a sweetheart. Have the girls keep her busy with Maverick and making food. Her help in those things will keep the others focused. If Princess isn’t distracted, she’s as fierce as one of us staying back.”
Nightmare interrupts. “Same. After the Iron Fists, Bethany has been on the warpath. She’s been kickboxing and visiting the range weekly. She won’t be a victim again.”
Mercenary speaks up. “Chevelle’s a bad bitch; she’ll hold her own. If she has to, she’ll run a fucker over.”
Viking smirks. “Not a doubt in my mind that they can’t hold the fort down with Torch and Smokey around to help. The Iron Fists caught us off guard and fucked us up...we learned our lesson the hard way.”
“Fuckin’ Fists,” Nightmare growls, and Viking raises his hands to get everyone to shut the hell up.
“We’re getting off topic. We’ll ride out in three or four days; it depends on what updates I receive. Be prepared to pop smoke any day.”
Clearing my throat, I bring up a sore spot for me. “I have the principal in my room...tied up still.”
Viking’s brow raises as he trains a stony expression on me. “And? You haven’t broken her yet?”
I shake my head. “I thought kidnapping her would shake her up enough to get her to roll over and comply, but she’s stubborn. Caught her chewing at her wrist ties yesterday. Bloodied up her arms and everything. She’s stubborn.”
Torch divulges, “She called him a heathen.”
Several brothers around the table break out in chuckles, and I have to grit my teeth as to not growl in return.
Viking exhales, quickly running out of patience. “You have four days, Blaze. Turn up the heat and fucking break her down already or put a bullet in her. We have too much shit going on to worry about her ass. Our problems with the cartel affect the entire MC, she’s a speck where this is all concerned. Our women don’t need to be worrying about a loose cannon while we’re out of town taking care of club business.”
Swallowing, my throat grows tight at the thought of burying her. I have to figure out another way to get her to see reason. “I’ll take care of it.”
He nods. “Bet. Now, anything I’m missing that needs to be talked about?”
Sinner signals.
“Sin?”
“2 Piece getting more weapons in from the Russians?”
“Good question. Touch base with him and see if we have time to restock. I haven’t heard of the Russians paying a visit lately, so it’s a decent chance they have something in the works. If not, ask if they have anything their charter is selling that we can get. And ammo as well; we can never have enough of it.”
Sinner concurs, “I’ll get it sorted and hit up Smokey if they have anything worth purchasing.”
“Good. If the Russians are planning to drop in, I want a fifty-Cal and a rocket launcher, or something similar. We need to go in with plans to fuck some shit up.”
Smokey coughs, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “You planning on driving down there, kid? Ain’t no way you can strap those to your bikes and not get hauled off by the law. Oath Keepers don’t have everyone in their pockets, ya know.”
Viking huffs. “I’ll make a prospect drive if needed. I’m not worrying about the little shit right now. We need to execute the bigger plan.”
Odin speaks up, disagreeing. “You should be, brother. We have enough of a heads-up to cover our bases instead of going in half-cocked and shit. There’s enough of us to take care of it all.”
Viking glares. “You wanna sit in my motherfuckin’ chair?”
Odin’s hands shoot up, placating. “I’m just suggesting, Vike. Calm the fuck down.”
“I agree with one aspect. There’s enough of us sitting around this table to make sure all the small shit is squared away. We don’t need a color-coded checklist with fucking designated chores. Put your colored pencils away and check for your balls, little brother.”
The table cracks up, and Odin rolls his eyes. Poor kid will always be the younger brother around here with Viking in charge. VP or not, he’s still the youngest sitting at the table.
Chaos asks, “You have a spot picked out for us?”
Viking shakes his head, taking a hefty gulp of his bottled water. “I know it’s on the border. We’ll hear more before we head out. Spider’s checking in with me on it daily.”
We sit back, getting quiet, lost in our thoughts of what’s to come.
He finishes. “If there’s nothing else, let’s get the fuck out of here. We’ve all got plenty of shit to do, I’m sure. I sure as fuck do.”
Various brothers nod.
“Before we clear out, I need to know if everyone’s on board with this Mexico business.” He peers around the table. “My vote is aye.”
Odin: “Aye.”
Me: “Aye.”
Torch: “I should be going,” he grunts. “I’m the death dealer, it’s my job, but I respect your orders, so you’ll get an aye from me.”
Nightmare: “I’ve got your back. Always. I say we fuck them all up for good. My vote is fuck, yes.”
Chaos: “Aye, brother.”
Smokey coughs out an, “Aye. I’ll look after your women.” I roll my eyes. The dude is an ancient pervert. He’s always been that way.
Saint: “Aye.”
Sinner: “Aye.”
Mercenary: “Aye.”
Viking lifts the gavel. “It’s done. Now get the fuck out.” He slams it down, the noise echoing through the small room Viking’s designated strictly for church.
We make our way into the bar. Usually, we drink and celebrate a bit after we have church, but in this case, most of the brothers take their leave to go find their respective women.
“You good?” I ask Torch, and he shrugs, plopping down on the leather couch. Honey rushes over with a couple of beers.
“Thanks, babe,” I acknowledge, and she preens.
She goes to sit down, but Torch sends her a death glare, and she scatters.
“You’re in a mood,” I comment. He’s never one for Honey’s company, but he usually keeps his issues to himself so she can hang on another brother.
“I could do more if I was riding out with the club. I should have Viking’s back on this, not leashed up like the club’s fucking dog.”
“I get it. I’m usually the one ordered to stay behind. I’d be too distracted if I was here with Amelia. Besides, you can protect the compound better than I was ever able to. I used to think my spot was useless, but it’s not. You keep everything we care about safe. If it’s Viking you’re worrying about, well, he’ll do whatever he wants, regardless if you’re there or not.”
“You want me to kill the principal and get her out of the way for you?” he probes, and my protective instinct flares. That’s the last thing I want at the moment.
It must be all the time I’ve spent with Princess over the years that’s made me feel this way inside over hurting women. I wouldn’t have cared much in the past—out of sight, out of mind. That doesn’t seem to be the case now, though. Anything happening to Amelia Stone has me wanting to hurt someone, and that detail freaks me the fuck out.
“I’ve got her. Speaking of, I need to talk to Princess. I’ll catch you later.”
He nods, letting me go without saying anything else.
I head for Viking’s office. Princess is in there painting her toenails. The smell makes me cringe; that shit has to be toxic. I’ll never understand how females can sit and inhale that crap and not catch a contact high.
“’Sup, P.”
“Hey. You guys are done with church already?”
I nod.
“Everything okay?”
“I need you to do something for me.”
Her brows raise, and she stares at me, waiting.
I admit, “The principal needs to shower...she hasn’t since I brought her here.”
“Uh, and why can’t you help her?”
“I’m trying to give her space.” I shrug.
“Is she still fighting with you? Wait a second...have you touched her?”
I shake my head.
“Not at all?” she questions, her eyes widening with shock.
I choke out a quick, gruff, “No.”
“I can’t believe you haven’t slept with her already. You sleep with everyone! Well, anyone who isn’t an ol’ lady anyway. Has she friend-zoned you or something?”
With a groan, I swipe my hand over my face. I mutter a dejected, “Of course I’m not friend-zoned, damn it.”
“She really has you shaken up, huh?” Her lips twist into a smirk. She’s loving this shit.
“Amelia has this perception that men like me are her enemy. I already told you all of this shit the other day.”
“And let me guess, you’re trying to prove her wrong?”
I nod, sending her an incredulous look. “Yep, she is wrong.”
“I know she is.” Princess easily agrees, her smirk turning to a serious frown. “But you’re being too soft on her.” She pauses to blow on her nails for a beat then continues. “A woman like her, from what you’ve told me, needs to be pushed. You need to cross her boundaries, not tiptoe around them. She needs to be challenged, or she’ll get bored...just like you.”
“I’m liable to scar her for life or some shit.”
She snorts, rolling her eyes. She’s like a bratty younger sister sometimes. “What’s so different about her, Blaze? You’ve never blinked in the past when it’s come to women. You sleep with a different one every chance you get. Even I know that. Now this one, you have in your bed for multiple days, and you haven’t so much as touched her?”
“I’ve never given a fuck before.” The words rush from me, exasperated. “I go for a piece of ass because that’s what I want.”
“And you don’t want that from her?”
“Of course, I do. I mean...fuck! That didn’t come out right.” I shake my head, tapping my fingers on my jean-clad thigh. How can I say this without sounding like a dick?
“She has you twisted,” Princess quietly resolves.
P’s completely right. I concede, releasing a sigh. “I need you to push her for me.”
She grins, closing her polish bottle and stands. “I think I have something in mind.”
I watch as she rounds Viking’s enormous desk and digs through a drawer, careful not to jack up her nails. She finds what she’s looking for, closes the drawer, and steps back around wearing a wide smile.
“What is it?” I ask, and she holds her hand in my sight. She palms a black and red ball gag. I should invest in one of these—can’t say I’m surprised to see Vike has one in his office.
“I’m going to take her voice from her and make her feel. She’ll shower, but I’m going to have some fun with her too.”
“You better not piss your ol’ man off. I’ll be the one who pays for it, and cousin or not, he still hits fucking hard.”
Her tinkle of a laugh rings through the office, glee filling her at my possible ass kicking. “I’ll let him know what I have in mind, so he won’t hurt you...not too bad, anyhow.”
I rake my hand through my blond locks and mutter, “Great...just great.”
“Hey, you want me to get her all shaken up, right? And I’m not a man, so she can’t blame her emotions on that cop-out. Maybe we should’ve gone about this differently when you brought her in. Let me mess with her, and you’ll look like the hero.”
“Don’t fuck her up, P. She already jacked her wrists to shit.”
She giggles, delight shining in her gaze. “I won’t, she’ll be shaken up, but not from violence. Trust me.”
“I do,” I reply, and it’s the truth. This chick is like my little sister. Now, what she’ll do with Amelia is another thing altogether. Princess can be sweet or a hellion depending on her mood. I’ve witnessed firsthand her try and shoot her ol’ man when he pissed her off enough. I wouldn’t put it past her to hurt a bitch who’s been screwing with members of the club. That’s toying with her family, and she’s protective of us all.
“I’ll take care of her, don’t you worry.” She winks, and I cringe a little at her term.
“Don’t shoot her,” I grumble.
“I won’t, I’m bringing the gag so she can’t sass me. No need to worry about me hurting her.”
I nod. She grins broadly and sways her hips as she leaves me in the office alone, wondering what in the hell her plan is. The bitch is crazy, so Amelia’s in for it, that much I already know.
