One Hundred & Thirty-Six Scars (The Devil's Own #1), Page 8

  Upstairs is one large loft that overlooks the bar the whole way around. There are many bedrooms scattered around up there too, for other activities we see fit. There’s blood on these walls that aren’t just from when I took over.

  “Yeah, I’m good,” he responds, wiping the counter down with his cloth.

  Taking my drink, I nod my head to him before making my way to the table where some of my men are seated. I pull out a chair and sit down before sipping my drink.

  “Calling church in an hour, gives enough time for Hella to get his ass back here.”

  “Anything important?” Sugar asks, rubbing his hand over his beard.

  “Not at this moment. I got a call from Zane, need to run some things past you all before I place us in a situation that we probably don’t want to be placed in.”

  Sugar nods his head. Sugar was here before I was, and was my father’s VP. He had issues when I came back and my dad patched me in as VP with Hella as Sergeant of Arms, but after a round in the ring, we sorted it out and the top dog came out on top. With that being said, Sugar is one trustworthy motherfucker. I trust all my brothers, they wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. But I trust Sugar just below Hella.

  Hella comes through the barn doors with a hand full of tools hanging from his arms and a cheesy grin on his face. I shake my head and point to all the shit around him. “What the fuck is that?”

  “It’s the shit I need to fix the roof!”

  “What? You a builder now? Killing not enough for you?” I ask under a chuckle.

  He flips me off, dropping the rest of the items onto the ground. “What’s the rush anyway, I was going to call into Red Moon,” he replies with a smirk.

  “Leave the girls alone, Hella.”

  “Hey…” he throws his hands up making his way to us, “…it’s not my fault only a whore can handle my cock.”

  “Jesus,” I laugh, standing from the table.

  Red Moon is a business we own but have one of the girls run it for us. Shelby is good at what she does, but if she could keep her hands off my cock she’d be better. Not that I haven’t passed her up a few times, but she doesn’t do it for me on any other level apart from making my dick hard enough to come.

  “Church, now.” I push my seat back and make my way to the back of the bar with Hella hot on my tail.

  Walking through the iron doors, I step around the long rectangular table that has our emblem carved into the metal, a skull wearing a hoodie, smirking over his shoulder throwing up a full house. That’s what’s on our colors.

  I smirk at my dad’s bike before pulling my seat out at the head of the table. Having his bike behind me in this room was my decision. It preserved his presence and position in this club and made me feel like his presence is always here.

  I flick my lighter between my fingers, watching as Sugar blazes up a joint on my left side and Hella sitting opposite him on my right, having a few tokes before handing it to me. I take it, placing it in my mouth and taking a long pull.

  “The reason I called this…” I blow out the smoke I was holding and pass it to Hella, “…is I got a phone call from Zane Mathews, the President of the Sinful Souls MC in Westbeach. He might need a favor soon. He was asking if we have his back. One of his guys has ruffled up some Russian’s feathers, he might need some reinforcements. Now… I know it sounds bad, but the Sinful Souls are our brothers. They may not be by patch, but by choice. However, if anyone’s not right with this voice your opinion now, we’ll take it to vote.”

  “Fuck. This doesn’t sound good,” Nyx voices from down the table, leaning back into his seat.

  “Proceed,” I wave my hand out while flicking the lighter between my fingers.

  “Well… Russians. That’s why.” He shakes his head, before leaning onto his elbows on the table. “I get it, they’ve always made it clear that they would throw one down for us, but we gotta be smart here, and I don’t know… getting into the enemy bed with the Russians is not how I wanted to spend my Sunday afternoon.” He takes the joint off Toke who’s sitting next to him. An agreed grunt comes from across the table.

  “I agree with Nyx. I don’t like it. Little things, yeah, but this? This sounds big,” Flicker adds.

  “Anyone else have an opinion?” I ask around the table.

  A chuckle sets off beside Hella and I don’t have to look to know who it is. “You with us on this, Hannibal?”

  “Fuck yeah, I’m with you. Getting a bit quiet around here. Need to fuck some shit up.”

  I shake my head around a smirk before picking up the gavel. “Who’s with me?” A sound of yays sound off around the table with two nays.

  “Out-voted, we ride with them.” I slam the gavel down before throwing it back onto the table.

  Everyone stands and I bring my eyes up to the two who voted nay. “Nyx, Flicker, sit.” I point my head back down to their seats. They look between each other before sitting back down.

  Once everyone has cleared out, I bring my elbows to the table. “I don’t like any of my brothers feeling like their opinion doesn’t matter. However, I need you to trust my decision, as your president and as your brother.”

  “I trust your decision, Beast. I’m just not convinced it’s the right one. But I will ride, of course, no matter what.”

  I nod my head at Nyx. He’s smart, he’s young but he’s smart.

  Pushing my chair back, I stand from the table. “Let’s go, I need a drink.”

  Walking back out to the bar, Shelby’s sitting at the bar sipping her drink. And with Hella getting his cock ground on by Emma—I see she didn’t come alone. She must be his flavor of the week. I walk to Shelby, pulling a stool out. Her head doesn’t move but an eyebrow arches as she turns her beer around in her hand.

  “What can I do for you, Shelby?” I signal to the old fella to get me a drink.

  She swings her attention to me, her dark brown eyes slanting and her long silky legs crossing over. “I was wondering if you were lonely?” she asks, bringing the beer to her lips, running them softly over the rim of the glass. To any other guy, the scene would be hot, erotic even. Not to me, though, she does nothing for me. She’s gorgeous, don’t get me wrong, but I have zero interest in her outside of getting my dick wet. That’s only when I’ve had too much to drink or when thoughts come into my mind that I try to squash. Those thoughts involve a young girl with dirty hair and clothes, and an emptiness in her eyes that God himself couldn’t fill. I’m fucked up and I know it. I haven’t seen or heard from her since. I have thought of chasing her, I know it would be easy enough to do if I really wanted. Let’s face it, I have enough connections. But I know she’ll be okay now. She has to be, right? Her dad is dead, now she can live without her worst nightmare.

  I laugh, bringing my drink to my lips. “Not today.”

  Her eyes drop to her hands. “Beast, surely… I mean, I’m the only girl you’ve really seen since you’ve been here. I thought we had established a relationship.”

  I drop my drink on the counter, bringing my eyes to hers. “If you think for one second that just because you’re the only pussy I’ve had since I got here that that makes you special pussy, you have another think coming. There’s been another, Shelby. Get off your shit,” I state coldly, bringing the drink back to my lips. Bone Thugs in Harmony ‘Notorious Thugs’ begins playing through the sound system and I know Hella has obviously obtained control of the music.

  “Beast…” she answers sadly.

  I laugh. “Go home, Shelby. I’ll call you when I’m drunk.” I push my seat back, scooping up my drink and making my way to the table where Hannibal and Ripper are sitting and laughing—probably about something sick and inappropriate. Taking my seat as they continue to laugh, I shake my head. “What’s so funny?”

  “Did you know that if you fuck a girl who’s been filled with enough gasoline, her body could actually ignite in flames from the inside out?” Hannibal is laughing from his seat, his evil fucking smirk surrounding his bottle.


  I chuckle, shaking my head. “You’re a sick fuck.

  I’m on my way to Phoebe’s house because Melissa called me an hour ago and asked me if I could meet them there. She’s in bad shape. Ryder Oakley worked another number on her and I’m about ready to give my first ass kicking. Phoebe may have a tough exterior, but she’s sweet and squishy on the inside.

  Pulling up to her house, I run up her front steps that join onto her little wrap around porch, turn the door handle and push it open. Her house is small compared to the twenty-car garage she has sitting beside it. But it’s comfortable, warm and inviting—everything Phoebe is.

  “Hello?” I call out, shutting the door behind me.

  “In here,” Melissa replies out from the kitchen.

  Walking in, I see them both sitting at the kitchen table, clutching their cups of coffee.

  “Hey.” I move to Phoebe and pull out the seat next to her. “You okay?”

  She brings her eyes to me. “Nope. He broke me again. Again!” she whispers angrily.

  Looking at Melissa, I smile. “It’s okay, Phoebe. We’ll get through this.”

  She nods her head. “I hope so.”

  The front door opens again and Blake walks in with Shooter, Phoebe’s Cane Corso dog running up behind him.

  “Come, I want to show you something real quick,” Blake says to her.

  “Why?”

  “Will you be on your feet to open the circuit tomorrow? I already have everyone here packed and ready. Everything’s ready for you. I’ve been planning it since you left. It’s just a good thing everyone flew in early this week.” He scratches his head roughly. The circuit is the racing circuit Phoebe is about to open showcasing the hottest girl racers from around the world—my bestie is a genius. She pushes her seat back in excitement, taking a stand.

  “Are you kidding me? Yes, yes, I’m ready.”

  And just like that, her eyes light up like the fourth of July.

  “All right then, let’s head to Speedy’s Way.” I giggle under my breath at her face beaming up at her brother. Speedy is her nickname that she had been crowned since she was a child. She named her circuit after it.

  Linking our arms together, she takes us to her monster garage.

  “Oh dear God, here we go,” I mutter under my breath. Every car ride with Phoebe is like a race against time.

  I’m in my office, sorting through paperwork when Hella walks in, his face falling.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, dropping the papers of last month’s earnings in a pile beside the door. Yeah, I think I need to hire an accountant. One that doesn’t ask questions about what we do. Somehow, I don’t think that will be so easy.

  “Someone’s been following me. It’s happened a few times,” he answers, pulling out a chair and taking a seat.

  “Yeah, same here. Black SUV? They haven’t made a move yet. We’re sitting ducks waiting, though.” I lean back into my seat, stretching my legs out.

  “We need to end this once and for all. Blow up their entire pad,” he replies casually.

  I laugh. “Hella, there are innocent people in there. We just need a plan to get them out safely, and then we kill them all. What about your girl in Westbeach?”

  Raising his eyebrows, he asks, “Who? Abby? Ha! She’s not my girl. Yeah, I’ll hit her up.”

  “And Hella?” I yell out before he hits the door on his way out. “Get me an accountant. One that’s crooked around the lines.”

  “How am I supposed to find an accountant that’s going to not ask questions about what we do?”

  “I don’t know. Use that imagination.”

  He closes the door behind himself. Standing from my chair, I make my way to the bar. I’m sick of looking at numbers. They ain’t my thing.

  Pulling out a chair, I slide in next to Hannibal. “We need an accountant, brother. I fucking hate doing numbers.”

  He shrugs. “I know someone. She’s a little feisty, doesn’t take shit, but won’t ask questions about what goes on here.”

  Turning myself to him, I raise my eyebrows. “Who is she?”

  “My sister’s best friend. Fucking annoying little bitch, but she’s lived with us since she was fourteen when both her parents died in a car accident. She’s twenty-two now and just graduated with a degree in accounting and small business. She and my sister still live at my olds, they’re looking for jobs and all that now.”

  “Yeah, somehow I don’t think this is what she’d be interested in.”

  “Oh…” he smirked around his glass, “…I’m sure I can persuade her.”

  “Jesus, you dipping in that?”

  He shakes his head. “Fuck no. Fuck off. No. I hate her.”

  “Well, how the hell are you going to get her to come then, fuckface?”

  “I have my wicked ways.” He smirks up at me.

  “I don’t doubt that… at all.”

  And I don’t. Hannibal is one of the craziest motherfuckers I know. He and Hella run around the same level of crazy, but even Hella has limits. Hannibal doesn’t. He’s twenty-five, one of the younger ones in our club, and has the kind of level of crazy that you never want to cross.

  “I’ll hit her up. When do you want her to start?”

  “Whenever.”

  He takes his drink and walks upstairs to one of the bedrooms up in the loft. I shake my head around a laugh. Fucking psycho.

  The rest of the day goes averagely slow, with my phone getting call after call from Shelby. I decide to drop it and leave it in my pocket on silent.

  Hella walks up to me when I’m in the back shed, sorting through our next shipment. “I got hold of Abby, she said she can help. She’s got this crazy plan about bringing down the Russians as well and wants to kill two birds with the one stone. She needs us to bait The Army out to meet up where she’s having the Russians lead to. They know about The Army and the operations that they run, but they can’t touch them. She needs one of the Commanders—preferably Kurr—so she can slowly break him to see which corrupt government is behind it.”

  “It’s our corrupted government.”

  “She needs to provide proof.”

  “What makes her think she can change it? There’s no way.”

  “By exposing them,” he answered.

  “Those commanders will die before they talk,” I clarify with him, turning my attention back to the AKA I’m holding.

  “Yeah, but they’re trialing out this new shit. Like, truth serum. They want to try it out on one.”

  “Truth serum?” I scoff, putting the weapon back into the box.

  “Beast, we come from a place where that shit exists. Don’t play it off like it’s not possible.”

  He has a point.

  “All right, so what… we need to draw them to where?”

  “To a park off State Highway Three. You pull right in, the whole road is desert and hides perfectly behind some sand dunes. It’s perfect.”

  “Wait a minute… sitting there with some fucking Russians and Feds? Nah, this doesn’t feel right.”

  “Trust me. This is going to work. I trust her.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Well then, trust me.”

  “Fine. When?”

  “Tomorrow. It all goes down tomorrow. Which shouldn’t be a problem considering that black SUV has been parked up down Gregory Valley Road for the past week.”

  “You sure? Fuck,” I answer, pushing my hands into my pockets.

  “Yeah, I’m sure. I’m sure they know I know, too.” He makes his way over to where I’m standing and takes out one of the AKA’s from the cargo box. “Time to blow some shit up,” he smirks, lifting the weapon into the air.

  I whack his hand down. “Something still doesn’t feel right about this.”

  “Remind me why we have to be there at exactly 12:01?” Ripper tenses from the back of the van we’re in as we wait for Hella to leave the house.

  “Because if we all showed up at different times, that would fuck everything up. The Russ
ians turn up and see it’s the Feds, then The Army show up, can you see how that would pan out?” Nyx replies next to him.

  “Shut up. Both of you. I don’t even want to do this, something doesn’t feel right. I fucking hate the Feds,” I reply, flicking my switchblade between my fingers.

  “You’re the boss, so why are we doing this?”

  “Because I need these assholes off my ass without a war, so I can proceed with getting all the innocent people the fuck out of the base. Then, I can kill them all.”

  “Who? The innocents? That’s a low, even for you, Beast.” Flicker laughs from the back. I shake my head. The boy needs a kick up the fucking ass sometimes.

  “No Flicker, you dumb fuck. The Army. Jesus, how the fuck did you get patched in again?” Ripper answers shaking his head.

  Flicker flips him off. “By fucking your mom.”

  Ripper’s head snaps up, eyes narrowed. Flicker throws his hands up. “I’m kidding, bro. Fuck!”

  “Fuck up, Flicker, or I’ll drop your ass back off at college.” Flicker was our prospect but got patched in a few months ago after he took one for us. He spent twelve months locked up, he patched in after he got out. He’s twenty-four. You wouldn’t guess, but the young buck can end almost anyone with one punch. I strategically placed all the men I have in my chapter. A few of them are still here from my dad’s days, but a few of them are newly patched in after I took the gavel—Flicker is one of them and so is Hannibal.

  The driver’s door swings open and Hella gets in, starting the ignition. “We’re ready. Abby said no later than 12:01, she’s persistent on that.”

  A growl escapes my mouth and Hella snaps his head to me. “Don’t growl at me.” He laughs, putting the gear into first. “Save that shit for the bitches.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  We pull down the gravel driveway until we reach the entry gates. Looking to Hella, I shake my head and push the button to open the gates. I don’t know why, but I don’t like this idea. I want my in, so that’s the only reason I’m following Hella’s lead on this. That, and because he’s never let me down before.