Mean Machine (The Untouchables MC 2)

Not even the deer.

Those suckers were pretty cute, to tell the truth.

I parked and looked around at all the hogs. This was probably the safest place on the planet to leave your ride. Security cameras were everywhere. And the fence that enclosed the lot was electrified.

A couple of prospects stood by the front gate to monitor who came in and out. A few others stood by the entrance to the clubhouse, keeping an eye on things.

The Untouchables did not mess around with security. Not since Cain took control. He was ex-military and ran the club with precision and total control.

Even I had to admit he was damn good at it too.

There was a huge meeting room with an ancient wood table and chairs. There was also a bar, which was semi-open to the public. Only if you were a really hot chick though.

Preferably a hot chick wearing very little clothes.

They’d let Michelle in, though. No matter what she was wearing. She was way too gorgeous. I tried to imagine her in here, getting a beer. The guys would go apeshit when they saw her.

Yeah, that was not a good idea.

Note to self: keep Michelle away from the damn clubhouse.

I didn’t even know if she drank. Or, more importantly, if she liked dirtbag bikers. I kind of doubted it. She didn’t seem the type. Not that she was judgemental or super straight. She was just… nice.

She was a good girl. Responsible. And she adored her kid too much to be out partying. I knew that if she had walked in here back in the old days, I would have done anything to have her. To be with her. And maybe, back then, she would have said yes.

It was pointless to fantasize about that. It would never happen now. She didn’t belong in my world, and I didn’t belong in hers.

She was a ‘normal’ not some club skank.

Still, the idea of her in a tight denim mini and one of those tops that looked like a corset… Goddamn! That was enough to keep me hard for a damn year.

“Mase.”

I nodded at Kendrick, one of the high ranking members. He waved me forward and told me to take a seat at the table. Then he left, closing the door behind him. A minute later, Cain walked in.

Cain was a big guy, like me. But he wasn’t scruffy like your average biker. He was clean cut. Polished. And he still wore his dog tags.

Even his boots looked shiny as he walked to the head of the table and sat down.

“Mason.”

“Cain.”

Neither one of us were big talkers. As expected, he got right to the point.

“Something’s going down with the Raisers.”

I raised my eyebrows. The Hell Raisers were another club from a few towns over. Their old club Prez had been a real scumbag. Dante was a monster who didn’t care about human life. He’d even gone so far as to threaten Cass. Cain, Connor and I had worked together to protect her.

The new club Prez… well, he was just plain crazy.

“It involves Casey.”

“She goes by Cassandra now.”

Cain grunted. My attitude had shifted immediately. I was alert and ready, leaning forward in my seat. No one messed with Cass.

“There’s been another murder.”

I stared at him, my mind going absolutely haywire.

“What’s that got to do with Cass?”

“We aren’t sure yet. But it looks like it might be the same guys who offed Connor’s partner. And the guy in your parking lot. The one Cass saw go down.”

I blinked. Things started to fall into place. Connor acting distant with Cassandra. His late nights. The guy must be freaking out, but trying not to worry his pregnant wife.

Oh yeah, the shit was definitely hitting the fan.

“What about Shane?”

“We haven’t had a sit down yet. We are setting it up for soon. I was hoping you would be there.”

“Me? Why the fuck would you want me there?”

“He came to you last time there was a problem. He trusts you. That could be valuable.”

I rubbed my forehead. Dante had been a bad, bad man, but his successor was batshit crazy. I exhaled. At least I knew Shane didn’t threaten little girls, though.

“Right. Okay, man. So, who bit it?”

I saw his fingers clench.

“One of the Raisers. And his landlord, who had piss poor timing. Looks like he walked in on it and got the royal treatment.”

“Jesus. Same MO?”

“To a T.”

“Even the landlord?”

“Yeah, poor bastard.”

“Fuck.”

The last murder had been brutal. Not just a regular killing, for drugs or money. It had been drawn out, to cause as much pain as possible. They’d even cut out the man’s tongue.

They’d set the guy on fire.

It was gruesome stuff, and my first thought was that I had to keep it out of the Jar. I couldn’t let Michelle or her kid be exposed to it.

“Come to the meeting.”