Ronan
I’donlyeverbeen here once before, the first time was before we had even established ourselves as a noteworthy gang, let alone an actual Syndicate operation. I was young, brash, and thought the number of men that fell under my bullets meant something.
It didn’t.
The Diablos gave me the firm reality check I needed.
An hour in their compound six years ago and they showed me that you couldn’t be shit in this world if you didn’t have an army behind you, willing to die for you. The Seals were loyal, and we never left a man behind, but only in the name of our country.
The minute Kane and I came home and received our honorable discharges it was like we hadn’t even bled for our nation. The Seals that stayed back wrote us off as quitters for not signing up for the next tour, and we didn’t serve long enough for red, white, and blue Americans to consider us Veterans by any means. It didn’t matter to us anyway, it was just an outlet for both of us to focus our rage, and our grief.
It served its purpose in its own way.
I had no desire to join a motorcycle club, not by a long shot. But I couldn’t deny that their devotion to their leader was what inspired and motivated every action that led us to create the Black Crow Brotherhood. After almost getting killed by the Diablos I knew I needed to find my own army, and I knew I would need to earn their trust and fealty in my own way.
A King was only a King if he could prove himself worthy.
To say I was feeling brave would be an understatement. There weren’t a lot of motherfuckers out there that I could say made me nervous anymore. But this son of a bitch and I had a history almost as ancient as me and my girl I kept locked up in the kennels, and I wasn’t taking no for an answer this time.
The scrawny kid was wearing a leather cut that said PROSPECT on the back of it, and I chuckled to myself as I wondered if he was savage enough to make it all the way someday. You either swallowed the world or it chewed you up instead, and to be fully honest…the kid looked hungry, but he also looked like a damn good meal. He waited for us to park and personally escorted us to the clubhouse entrance.
“Wait out here first, we have Church in session,” he said, and Mateo gave him a confused look.
“What the hell are a bunch of one-percenters doing praying?” he asked, and the kid laughed.
“It means they’re meeting. Important stuff. Club business you know?” he explained putting his hands in his pockets and shrugging.
“You don’t get invited to important meetings?” I asked him, a bit curious myself at how it all worked over here.
“I’m just a Prospect. Once I earn my patch, I’ll be able to sit in Church with the rest of them,” he grabbed the edges of his leather vest proudly and gave a big cheesy smile.
“How old are you, kid?” Mateo asked.
“Seventeen,” He grinned at my brother.
“And your parents are cool with the career path you’ve chosen?” I asked him, crossing my arms, wondering what the hell a kid was doing in one of the most notoriously violent motorcycle clubs in the country.
“Wouldn’t know. I’ve been in the foster system since I was born. Never stayed anywhere longer than a year, at least until three years ago. That’s when the Pres found me stealing from a grocery store and told me to come by. He took me in, and gave me a clean place to stay and three meals a day. I’ve never lasted anywhere this long, but if he lets me, I’ll stay till the day I die. I think I’d be dead if it wasn’t for him. I owe the Diablos everything.”
“Prospect, go do your homework and tell Veneno to take post at the gate,” the voice came from inside and the kid almost jumped from surprise.
“You got it Pres. You’ve got visitors,” he headed inside leaving Kane and I standing on the porch of the clubhouse.
“Gringo,” he said, opening the door, “I thought I told you I never wanted to see your face again?” Cézar Villalobos said coming through the swinging double doors looking one hundred percent like the mean asshole I remembered.
He was just a little bit shorter than me, but the two inches I had on him didn’t make him look any less intimidating. His skin wasn’t as dark as Santo’s, but his copper tone was deeper than Cecilia’s, like he had a bit more native in his blood. His black hair was trimmed to a close fade all around and it made him look even meaner, more dangerous than I had remembered.
“You keep saying it, but I think you actually miss me,” I gave him a half-smile and lifted up my shirt to show that I was unarmed. He looked at Mateo and waited for the same gesture before he said anything else.
“Good to see you’re not a boy waving his new toys around anymore Zerkos. Entra, come in.” he said as he opened the door to the clubhouse.
“What the fuck happened to you two?” He asked of our clearly bloody and beaten faces, but Mateo shrugged, and I didn’t bother giving him the satisfaction that this was just another aftershock of earthquake Cecilia.
The clubhouse itself was an impressive set-up. From the outside it looked like a giant farmhouse but once you got inside the whole place looked like it was gutted and redone. The floor was a beautiful oak with a light stain on the large wide planks.
To the right there was a massive kitchen fully stocked with an authentic brick oven and a professional built in griddle. The entire back wall was lined with stark white cabinets and just a few feet away was an island that easily sat twelve stools around it.
To the left was a large sectional couch, a couple pool tables, and all the way in the back wall was a large bar with hundreds of bottles of liquor lining the shelves. Dividing both rooms was a set of stairs that went both up and down into what must have been a basement. On the left side, there was a door just before the bar with another much larger upside-down cross hanging above it.
“Let’s step into my office,” he said, running his tongue over the diamond on his top canine like a bad habit before turning around. He signaled us to follow as he made his way to the room with the upside-down cross. A few members were walking out of the room, and they stared at us as we went inside. I didn’t belong here; it was clear with my Prada suit and my Versace shoes.
Kane, however, looked much more in his element than I had ever seen before, his black leather jacket, and boots made him appear right at home. Even the intentional rips in his pants that I never for the life of me understood, actually fit right in with the other bikers.
The room was large, the walls were painted black, and one side was filled with old leather vests framed and hung up. Another wall was filled with photos of the MC throughout the years, members aging, and disappearing into different portraits as they were replaced by the new generations. A table that easily sat twenty men spanned across the room with a large upside-down cross about four feet tall hanging on the wall behind the head of the table.
There was another door through the room, and he unlocked it and held it open as he gestured us in. It was an office, plain with not much but a desk, a few chairs, and a filing cabinet.
“You look tired,” I told the ornery bastard.
“It’s always something, isn’t it? Figured you of all people would understand that pendejo.” He threw a half-smile at me, as he let me know that he knew exactly what I’d been up to these last six years. It was true though, there was always something and that was probably the first time in my life Villalobos and I were on the same page.
“If you’re here for the same thing as last time, don’t bother sitting. I don’t know where she is, and to be honest, I hope it stays that way,” he said looking at me, but I took a seat anyway.
“No, not looking for her anymore. I have questions I need answered,” I told him, sitting up as straight as possible since he hadn’t sat down yet himself.
“And I can guarantee you I don’t have answers for you boy,” he said boy in the most condescending way as if he wasn’t just eight years older than me.
I raised an eyebrow at him, and he gave out a sigh like he was already exhausted by my presence.
“Look, ever since I distanced myself, the people around me tend to drop dead a lot less. You catch my drift payaso? I need it to stay that way. I’ve got people to look after these days, the family I’ve chosen. I’m not calling this shit to my door anymore,” he reasoned with me, and I could understand where he was coming from completely.
“I have my own people to look after too, that’s why I’m here for answers. I need to know what kind of danger might be dropping at my house. Catch my drift?” I asked, crossing my arms, and not backing down.
KNOCK-KNOCK
“Yeah?” he shouted past us towards the door.
“Come party Pres, we’re gonna rip that bastard’s patch when the sun comes up tomorrow,” a voice sounded out.
“Have a few drinks, hang around for the night. I’ve got a proposition for you come the morning,” he said vaguely as he proceeded to stand and leave us in his office.
I looked to Mateo for his thoughts, but he just shrugged his shoulders. I knew the asshole was gonna make me work for it, but I was already annoyed at how far Cézar was going to push my buttons along the way.
There was nothing unpredictable about their MC’s party, from the fishnet-clad women in booty shorts with unimpressive fake tits to the cheap booze that flowed through their bar. But that didn’t mean I didn’t allow myself to have a few too many shots and try my hand at getting what I needed from Cézar. He was good though, anytime I’d catch him off guard and try to strike up a few inquiries he’d practically pull his dick out, and soon enough there would be a slut on the other end.
And I mean, good for the guy, that was a lot of blow jobs in one night to avoid conversation. I’ll give him props for that because I sure as shit had a hard time sticking around to wait for him to finish to get a few words in. Kane sipped his water casually in the corner until I got too drunk, and he asked Cézar for our lodgings for the night.