It Ain't Me, Babe (Hades Hangmen 1)

I just hoped my VP was right.

“I’ll m-meet you out f-front,” I informed.

Ky left me alone and I move to suit up: full leathers, strapped on my holster holding my Uzis, my 9mm, my Bowie hunter, and my favorite Bundeswehr knife. I was gonna carve up a few f**kers with these, leave some lifelong smiles.

Walking to my black leather chair, I ran my hand down Mae’s leathers laid over the arm. Her Hangmen tank still smelled like her, all sweet and completely f**kin’ Mae. Taking this small piece of black cotton, I brought it to my nose and inhaled deeply before I tucked it into the waistband of my leathers.

She would be my talisman.

As I entered the yard, a sea of Hangmen on their bikes stared expectantly at me. My chapter was front and center, all waiting for my command… all waiting for me to talk.

Ky stepped beside me at the top of the stairs and asked quietly, “You sign, I translate?”

I nodded my head curtly and stepped forward, signaling with a wave of my hand for the hundreds of brothers to quiet. All I could hear were crickets. All I could see was leather and chrome. All I could feel was the python wrapped around my f**kin’ throat.

Setting aside my worries, I lifted my hands and began to sign.

Brothers, y’all have been called here as we’re going to war. A new organization, some f**ked-up extreme religious cult has been threatening this club. Threatening our name. Threatening our turf.

The Hangmen began shifting on their bike’s seats as Ky spoke my words. Teeth were bared; fists were flexing. They were pissed. Good.

The commune we’re going into is heavily guarded, some serious concentration camp shit. Acres of land. Huge perimeter fence. We got aerial shots from the senator—ain’t nothing like we’ve took on before. We go in teams. Split into chapters, work our way into the center of the commune, the stronghold. Ky has given you the entry points and maps.

The brothers nodded, assuring me they understood the plan so far.

We think there are about two thousand folks living there. More than half are women and children. Leave them the f**k alone. This ain’t no Waco massacre… unless, of course, they come at you first. We don’t know who’ll be armed until we go in. It’s a blind mission; that’s for f**kin’ sure.

The Order, as they’re known, trade guns, good quality shit from Gaza: Carbines, Jerichos, Tavor Rifles, Uzis, snipers. That’s only the ammo we know of.

That got some impressed reactions and Titus, fifty-year-old Prez from the New Orleans chapter, jerked his chin. “When we take these Bible f**kers out, what happens with the guns?”

I looked at Ky and he edged forward, answering the question. “We load up the trucks, take it to our private hangar, and split the shit evenly amongst the chapters. Good?”

Titus smiled, his full mouth of gold teeth gleaming off the compound’s floodlights. “Good.”

There’ll be guards, or disciples as they’re known, equipped, trained to fight. There’ll also be f**kin’ dicks who call themselves elders. If you can, keep them alive. Those cunts belong to this chapter.

Tank, Bull, Smiler and the Trio all smiled my way. They wanted the kills.

Whoever takes out an old dude going by the name of Prophet David, I’ll personally credit twenty grand. But, Rider, the rat who got us in this shit. He’s mine. No one touches him ’cept me. Cult name is Brother Cain. Big bastard. Brown hair. Beard.

“Any more than that?” Country, Sergeant-at-Arms from the San Antonio chapter, asked.

I nodded and my teeth began to grind. Three bitches. Stunning f**kin’ bitches. A blonde, Delilah, she goes by Lilah. Magdalene, dark hair, goes by Maddie. And…

I paused and sucked in a painful breath. Ky looked up at me, confused as to why I’d stopped signing. I looked up and stared the brothers in the eyes. Each one was willing to die tonight to bring Mae back to me. No one takes an old lady and gets away with it in this MC, no one. The brothers needed to hear this from me, needed me to tell ’em ’bout Mae. Brothers began twitching, confused at me acting weird.

“Prez? You good?” Ky asked in a hushed voice from beside me.

I walked to the front of the steps, my chapter frowning at my strange behavior. I closed my eyes and swallowed, working the python loose from my throat. It weren’t working for shit. I could get the bourbon, but it’d be no good. Not in front of all these brothers.

I thought back to what Rider’d said as I was strapped up on the gate, unable to reply, my hands tied, my voice taken away. “You’re pathetic. Can’t even find the words to speak to your woman. Not even when she’s crying for you.”

My fists clenched and my breathing came in hard pants. I opened my mouth, breathing in the humid air, but only silence came out. It only got worse the more I tried to talk. The lump at the base of my throat swelled, choking the f**k outta me. My eyes twitched; my head ticked. I was f**kin’ losing it.

Dropping my head, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a smoke. I lit up, taking a long drag. I thought of Mae and how easy it was around her, how the words just flowed. ’Bout when I sing, playing my Fender and the words just slip from my lips. I pictured Mae’s wolf eyes watching me with my guitar, her smile f**kin’ beaming with pride at me when I talked stutter-free, You did not stutter, not even once…

She was my medicine.

Fuck. Mae.

I froze when I realized I could breathe. Wolf eyes in my mind opening up my throat. My woman had done more for me in months than therapy had done in f**kin’ years.