Joy (Hell's Handlers MC 7)

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“Happy New Year!” Everyone screamed as Maverick crushed his mouth to Stephanie’s. Noisemakers blared through the room. Something, confetti maybe, was thrown at him from all angles, and balloons bounced off his head. Mav didn’t pay attention to anything except his wife and her amazing lips. She opened without hesitation, kissing him back with as much desperation as he felt. The kiss went on and on, neither of them willing to break the connection. In the back of his mind, he could hear the party resume. His brothers drinking, shouting, and generally being rowdy as fuck.

He didn’t care. All that mattered was the woman devouring his mouth was now his for the rest of their lives.

Mav had everything he wanted. So did the majority of his brothers, and they’d do anything necessary to keep and protect it.

Please read on for Viper, a short story from the Twisted Tales of Mayhem Anthology.

CHAPTER ONE

1985 BURIEN, WASHINGTON

He was a legacy.

The makings of the Devil’s Tribe Motorcycle Club literally coursed through his blood. Started by his great grandpop back in nineteen thirty-one, every man in his bloodline had their chance to lead the club. Right now, his pops ran the show. The old man had been president for the past ten years, give or take.

As long as he didn’t fuck up and land his ass behind bars, Viper’s shot at top dog would come. He’d head up the rough and raw group of men he’d idolized since the first time his diapered ass rode on a motorcycle. Rumor had it, his old man had made a trip into town with a ten-month-old baby Viper strapped to his back, ignoring the blue streak his mother had cussed from the porch. Young Viper had laughed and squealed the entire ride, solidifying his place in the pack.

Or so the story went.

Being heir to the throne might mean he’d be the prez one day, but as a prospect, it hadn’t meant shit. No one cared who or what he was. He’d suffered like all prospects before him. He’d had to prove himself and his loyalty like all the others if he’d wanted to receive that patch.

And he’d wanted it more than anything.

Finally, last night, he’d earned it. Best moment of his life. Proudest for his pops too.

But, right now? Well, now he wanted to take his rifle and mow down each and every man he’d considered a brother until five minutes ago.

Shit could change in a fucking instant.

Even the core of what made Viper a man wasn’t safe from the universe’s fuckery.

“So, this is really fucking happening?” Sarge, the other brand spanking new patched member, muttered under his breath. “We got a problem, brother. I sure as fuck didn’t sign on for this shit.”

Less than twenty-four hours ago, after thirteen months of abuse and scut work, both Viper and Sarge received their official patches. At twenty-eight, Sarge had a few years on Viper’s twenty-one. The guy served time in the Army, discharging at the rank of Sergeant, hence the nickname. They’d prospected together, and forged a bond, toughing out the torture the brothers loved to dish out.

“Shut the fuck up,” Viper whispered back, his gaze fixated on the rusted-out van starting up the long dirt road that led to the shack owned by the DT’s. His entire life, he’d been told the rundown two-room abode was a safehouse of sorts. Used by guys looking to lay low for a while.

The truth was entirely different than that bullshit.

“You telling me you ain’t freaking the fuck out, V?” Sarge spoke out of the side of his mouth, so low Viper had to strain to hear him. To the others, it’d look like the two were merely standing guard, waiting for the van to arrive. “Come on, man, we got tight over the last year. You told me all about your high school sweetheart. You cannot be okay with this shit.”

Viper’s stomach clenched as it always did when Vanessa was mentioned, which wasn’t much anymore, but it still happened on occasion. They’d been young, stupid, and head over fucking heels wild for each other. Double V, as everyone nicknamed them. In their youthful ignorance, they’d made plans to marry the summer after high school graduation.

A week before school let out, Vanessa was raped. Brutally raped. A random act of senseless violence, or so the useless pigs claimed. The assault destroyed a beautiful and vibrant girl. No matter what Viper did, and he tried every fucking tactic he could think of, he couldn’t drag her out of the dark pit her mind descended into. She’d become so consumed by the trauma, she committed suicide three months after it happened.

So, no he wasn’t fucking okay with this. Truth was, he was okay with a lot of illegal and even amoral shit, but this was not one of those things.