Their Private Need (Death Lords MC 3)

It hasn’t been a hard job and there’s been no task unwelcome. We’ve done everything and more that the club has asked of us, from carrying out beatings to drug dealers and dirty cops to putting down a former club member gone feral and a few other worthless human beings. I killed way more people in the Marines and by my way of thinking, there were just folks who needed killing and I didn’t mind being the one to send them away.

There’s a man who needs killing now and if I didn’t have the club to worry about, he’d have been dead the minute he stepped outside of the jail.

Inside the long room at the back that holds our service, the majority of the Death Lords are already seated with Judge, our President, at the head.

I take a seat at the other end of the table and Easy stands beside me. He’ll do the talking.

“Why don’t you present the situation to the brothers,” Judge invites.

Easy nods. “Thanks for coming. As you all know, we’ve claimed Annie Bloom for our own. She was beat within an inch of her life by her father, Pastor Bloom. He’s been let out on bail awaiting his trial. Michigan and me don’t think he deserves another day of freedom so we’re telling you that he’s going down. The question before you isn’t whether we’re taking Pastor Bloom out because we are. The question is whether you want our cuts before we do it.”

The collective air around the table is sucked into the Death Lords’ guts as Easy’s announcement takes them by surprise. They were thinking they were going to vote on Pastor Bloom, not on our throwing our patches away.

“Before we vote, anyone got anything to say?” Judge asks.

Mech, one of the older members who works at the shop, rubs his chin. “I got no problem with the killing. Just don’t want any blowback to the club.”

I see nods all around the room. The club comes first. I open my mouth but Easy stays my hand. “We got you, Mech. Thing is it wouldn’t make a difference if we killed the sonavabitch today or three years from now. Everyone’s going to look to the club so the best we can do is make sure that Michigan and I have a good alibi.”

“You got one in mind?” Mech asks.

“A couple of years ago, I helped Mayor Jenkins out of a little problem. He has agreed to play a few hands of poker with us and swear we were there the whole time.”

Mech shrugs. “Then I don’t know what we’re even having the meeting for. Clean your house. It’s all good with me.”

“I say that the two of them fuck another woman at the mash and that woman can be their alibi,” offers Brownie.

I shut that shit down immediately. “No, even if it was just for show, it’d hurt Annie. I don’t want that kind of talk about her.”

Judge leans forward, “Why don’t we have Chief Schmidt there too. It’ll give the boys an airtight alibi.”

“How’s that supposed to work?” Easy asks in disbelief.

“He’d love to clean your clocks due to you beating him and rendering his arm useless. He can’t patrol anymore and is limited to desk duty. The only reason he stays on is because of that disability thingy. So he takes a bunch of money from you.”

“How are we supposed to be playing cards with him and offing the good pastor?”

“We’ll have Abel sit in for you. You two are about the same height and same coloring. With enough smoke and a little peyote piped into the room, Schmidt will swear you were there. He’s not going to admit to being so high that he can’t remember you. It’s bad enough he’s sitting down at the poker table with a bunch of Death Lords. Schmidt will have to say that you were here all night long. With Schmidt and the mayor vouching for you, there’s no way that anyone can pin the death on you two.”

“I want to beat on that man for at least ten hours,” Easy growls.

“You don’t get everything. You want him dead and you don’t want to go to prison, then we have to work it this way.”

“Fuck. What do you think?” Easy asks me.

“If this is our best option, it’s our best option.” We get to kill Bloom and keep our cuts so for me, it was all good.

“You can do whatever you want to him at the gravel pit. Just make it fast and get back here.”

“Let’s do him in the church,” I say

“Why the church?”

“Because it’s closer and because it’s the place he defiled with his own evil. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust and all that shit.”

“Fine. Church it is. Make it easier for you to do him and get back.”

Easy rubs his hands together. “So we gonna vote on this?”

“Anyone got a problem with our enforcers taking care of Pastor Bloom?”

No one raises their hands.

“Alright, moving on to the fun shit. Able’s been a prospect for eighteen months and I think it’s time we vote on patching him in. We want any discussion?”

“I thought the fun shit was pussy and tequila?” Mech shouts from his end of the table.

Bang Bang reaches up and slaps him across the head. The vote passes easily as we all knew it would. If there was serious opposition to Able’s patching in, there would be no vote. He’d just be an eternal prospect until he got tired of being shit on and left town.

“Welcome, brother,” I say pounding him hard on the back. He’d be sore there tomorrow after all the congratulations were doled out.

Able grinned but before he could respond Mech muscled his way between us and grabbed Able. Dragging him out of the chapel, he shouts, “Which one of you ladies is going to be the first to welcome our newest patch?”

There’s a virtual stampede of sweet butts that close in on Able and pretty soon he’s drowning in pussy and tequila.

A year ago, I’d have been right there in the midst of those tits, legs, and ass. Now?

“Want to go home?” I say to Easy.

“Thought you’d never ask,” is his swift response.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Easy

Judge shuffles the cards as I watch the clock. The plan was that we would take the first two hands to spice up the table and the rest of the night Jenkins would rake it in—kind of a double payment. He got to discharge a marker and got cash money in the pocket. Michigan and I agreed to cover this to the tune of three grand.

Worth it.

Would have paid twice that amount.

Schmidt came easily. Rhiann Clark, a sweet butt, delivered the invitation by dropping a hint to her girlfriend and roommate who is a dispatcher at the police department. Schmidt went to Mayor Jenkins who admitted, reluctantly, that he was sitting down to play some high stakes poker with a few Death Lords including Judge. When Schmidt asked to buy in, Jenkins agreed and had to promise it would be a surprise.

We all tried to look suitably shocked and angry when Schmidt came in. Judge went for his knife and Able and Michigan had to hold him back while Schmidt looked on with a smug face. We finally sat down and started playing.

Jenkins is in a good mood, likely because he hated the idea that I had something over him. It wasn't as big of a marker as Judge and the others made it out to be. Jenkins had an unfortunate attachment to coke and strippers which I’d cleaned up for him. At some point he’s going to screw up again.

My eyes flick over to Able’s. He’s a good patch and will make the Death Lords stronger. Last night he got the good of the club—the easy pussy and the free liquor. Tonight he’d learn what it’s like to be a true brother. We watch each other’s backs.

Judge deals the fourth hand. Two cards down, two cards face up. Jenkins is the first to bet and leads off with a modest one.

“Don’t be so shy,” I joke. “We know the city pays you a fortune.”

Everyone laughs because the mayor’s position doesn’t pay shit which is why he’s still the owner of the local hardware store. I toss in a few more bills to sweeten the pot. The last card Judge throws is the Suicide King. My signal to leave.

The Suicide King is the King of Hearts. He holds the broadsword behind his head in a way that looks as if he's

going to cut his own head off. It also means a nice pay off for Jenkins.

I jerk my head at Able. “Come play my hand for me, I gotta take a piss.”

“Sure thing.” He slides into the chair I vacate.

“Don’t lose it all on one bet.”

“I’ll try to lose it over two or three hands,” he jokes.

Schmidt’s staring intently at his cards and doesn’t even look up.

Michigan follows me as I leave. We take the truck over to Wheels Up and then separate, walking toward the church which is two blocks off main stream. A few other Death Lords roar throw town making an unholy racket with their bikes. This starts off a sound of horns as the teenagers who are taking one last ride on the loop before they have to go in for the night try to out hoot the bikers. It serves as a minor distraction.

I go inside while Michigan heads to the cellar. He's never been in the house but I had dinner here once so if there are prints and DNA and shit, I have plausible excuses why I show up. We bring rope and duct tape. The rest of the stuff will come from Bloom's kitchen. By the time we arrive at the rectory it’s about half past ten. Most of the lights are off and we hear the faint honking and throttle engines from Main Street. The bell tower and the exterior church lights are on but everything else is dark.