Viper (Hell's Handlers MC 9)

Christ, just the memory of the conversation had Viper’s fists curling. Never before had he been able to say he hated his father. Sure, as a hotheaded, cocky as fuck teenager they’d had their fair share of screaming matches, but that was kid shit. It all blew over as soon as the hot water cooled.

Tonight, he’d had to walk away from Fox because he didn’t trust himself not to wrap hands around the old man’s throat and squeeze until his eyeballs popped.

Since his gaze had connected with the kidnapped girl’s the previous night, Viper felt like a live wire dangling from a power pole, snapping and popping with deadly energy. Every man in the club had suffered from the painful zap of his mood at some point over the last day. Fox was so fed up with him, he assigned “bitch sitting” duty and ordered Sarge along to babysit the cranky babysitter.

Turned out to be the best outcome. Now they both had a reason to be back at the shack.

“Yeah. I’m tight. It’s a good plan.”

Sarge nodded. “Okay, the body should be arriving in about two hours. I’ve got the Scoundrel’s cut all ready to go,” he said referring to the rival MC most hated by the Tribe.

Nodding without taking his attention off the shack, Viper said, “You never told me how you managed that one.”

“What? Swiping one of the Scoundrel’s cuts?” Sarge said with a chuckle. “Remember that bar fight Legs got into with one of those fuckers last year?”

Was she awake in there? Huddled in a corner, scared out of her mind? Had Legs…No.

Viper couldn’t let himself go there. If he lost his temper, he’d fuck up. Then the girl wouldn’t be the only one up a creek. He and Sarge would be right there with her. So instead of fucking up the plan and charging the shack with a primal roar, he focused on Sarge. “Yeah, I remember. Legs got his ass handed to him by that scrawny guy more than half a foot shorter than him.”

Sarge chuckled. “Fuck, forgot about that part. Anyway, before the fists started flying, both of ’em took their cuts off. Legs tossed his to Fox. The Scoundrel was stupid enough to drop his over a chair. I straight up walked out of the bar with it under my fucking arm. Figured it’d come in handy someday. I was right.”

Viper grunted. He’d actually heard the story before, but his brain was only half in attendance tonight. Most of it was dedicated to the woman they were about to rescue. The plan was simple. Burn down the shack and frame the Scoundrels. They needed the club to believe Viper and Sarge’s bodies burned up in the shack along with the girl’s. At least long enough for them to get lost somewhere else in the country.

Executing the plan would take a bit of finesse.

Thankfully, Sarge was a master at planning these types of ops, and had useful contacts all over the country. Hell, all over the world. One of those contacts happened to work at a funeral home. Actually, a woman he banged on the regular worked at the funeral home. A good dicking and five hundred dollars was apparently the going rate to purchase the dead body of a homeless man. Not much, all things considered.

“All right let’s review one more time. We bullshit with Legs until he leaves. Body gets here in an hour. We wait another hour after that just to make sure someone ain’t coming around to feed us or some shit. Then we split up. I’ll make a trail in the woods for the club to follow, you get the body in position, grab the girl, and scram. I’ll circle back around and burn the place to the fucking ground.” Sarge sounded almost gleeful, as though they were planning a party instead of a captive rescue that could go seriously fucking wrong. “Don’t forget to get the cut on the body. It’ll look like the Scoundrels lit the place up but one of the fuckers didn’t make it out. Rest fled through the woods.”

“What if the body burns up, and they can’t tell it had a Scoundrels’ cut?” Viper asked. Through the window, he watched as Legs stood, stretched, then scratched his nuts before wandering out of the room. He was back only seconds later, beer in hand. Viper let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Legs hadn’t been out of sight long enough to have fucked with the girl.

They’d run down Sarge’s plan a hundred times since he’d devised it last night, but he seemed to understand Viper’s need to review it one last time.

“If you put the body where we discussed, half hanging out the front door, it should get charred but not fully cooked.” He spoke in a calm tone, as though they were planning an average Saturday night. “Fox will probably tell the cops this place was empty, which will hopefully keep the search for our bodies to a minimum. If all goes well, our club will assume we’re dead and, in a few weeks, they’ll make up some bullshit accident to tell everyone.”