Blade’s cock swelled and hardened inside of me. He was close to orgasm, so I only had to hang on for a few more seconds. His hips began to move erratically, frantically as pleasure took over his body and unconsciousness threatened my own. The phone fell and he gave one last hard thrust, causing me to tear up. He let out a sickening moan right before he pulled out and came all over my body.
“Roadkill was right, that cunt is magic.”
He flashed a dark grin at me and picked up the forgotten phone. A few snaps of the camera later, he said, “You’re old man is gonna love this. Your brother too.” Then he pulled his fist back and punched me one final time.
Everything around me went black.
Chapter Seven
Charlie
“Those fucking Jacks,” I spat the word out through a plume of smoke and turned to Max with a frown. “They’re turning into a bigger problem than we expected.” The prevailing wisdom up to this point was that this new MC was a joke, nothing more than a nuisance. No more threatening than a pesky little fly.
Max’s brows rose in surprise. “We talkin’ about the same group of dickheads? Barely a dozen of ’em with no clue how to wipe their own asses?”
My dad’s lips pulled into an amused grin as he mulled that over. Because, of course, everyone thought I, Max’s son, was just the new Prez overreacting to new responsibilities.
“Wiping your own ass isn’t really a necessity when you’ve kidnapped two girls from Bungalow Three, is it? Not to mention the arms shipments we were expecting from the Bulgarians that the Mexicans mysteriously blew up. So, either our well-established allies are suddenly fucking us over, or the Jacks are getting bolder.”
I’d almost rather have our associates backstab us than this shit because those fucking Jacks are crazy and unpredictable. And that shit was hard to fight.
Max’s face broke out in surprise. “They took some of our girls?”
I nodded and took another long pull from my cigarette. The relief I sought from the nicotine never came.
“Shit,” he said and shook his head, letting out a long, low whistle.
This is what I wanted. From the moment I understood the MC hierarchy, I had my eyes on a seat at the head of the table. I saw myself calling the shots, and now that I was here, I felt out of my fucking league.
“They’re pulling this shit trying to make me look weak to undermine my goddamn credibility.”
Max nodded his agreement and let out a sigh. “I haven’t held a position of leadership since my time in the service, which was a fucking lifetime ago, but I know this is different. You have to make an example of someone.”
“I don’t want to just make an example, Dad. I want to find the exact motherfucker responsible and tear him apart. But my first priority is to find our girls.”
Other MC’s thought we treated our whores too kindly, but Cross had taught me a valuable lesson about making money and our girls wanted to work for us, which made all the fucking difference, especially in the ledger. We had the most successful brothels in the area, more than a dozen now, and for every level of kink and price point.
“I need you to take the lead on finding the girls, with Jag’s help.”
His eyebrows jumped into what was left of his hairline. “Jag?”
I nodded. “Haven’t you seen how these fuckers operate? They have a niche business of gangbang rapes, amateur videos they sell online. Newbies and virgins make up most of their victims and doing fucked up shit to pretty women always sells. But our girls are pretty. Not to mention they took ‘em from us. Our girls. Jag can help you find them.”
Max nodded slowly. If he felt anything about taking orders from his son, he gave no indication. Dad was a company man, so to speak. Strong as hell when it mattered, but damn good at taking orders. A real team player.
“I’m on it. What else is on your mind, son?”
I opened up the leather and chrome cigarette case Mom had given me the day I got the President patch and bypassed another cigarette in favor of the joint beside it.
“Do you think it’s strange or problematic, this connection we have with the Ashbys?”
“No more than our connections with any of the other gangs we do business with. We do business our way and yeah, the Ashbys damn sure ain’t no MC, but we are stronger together.”
That was the case now, but I couldn’t help but think that some of the recent incidents might be messages for them and not us. “You think so?”
“Hell yeah, I do. It’s a nice image of the lone biker battling the world on his own, but that shit is old school thinking. Reckless Bastards are not a Mom & Pop shop, Charlie. We are a fucking multi-national corporation with a network of business associates. That’s reality.”