Viper (Hell's Handlers MC 9)

The truth was entirely different than that crock of shit.

“You telling me you ain’t freaking the fuck out, V?” Sarge also 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 of all people 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 had nicknamed them. In their youthful ignorance, they’d made plans to marry the summer after high school graduation.

One week, seven goddammed days before school let out, Vanessa had been raped. Brutally assaulted. A random act of senseless violence, or so the useless pigs claimed. The attack had destroyed a beautiful and vibrant young woman. No matter what Viper did, and he’d tried every fucking tactic he could think of, he couldn’t drag her out of the dark pit her mind had descended into. She’d become so consumed by the trauma, she’d 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.

“Shit, brother, you know I’m not fucking on board with this.” He kept his voice a notch above a whisper. Nudging his chin toward their president, vice president, and enforcer, he said, “They’ll have your ass if they catch wind of what you’re saying, though.”

Sarge scratched the side of his clean-shaven head. The guy had been cue-balling it ever since some skirt he was banging told him she’d had fucking pubic lice. Turned out, he went down on her. Shit freaked him out so bad he shaved his fucking head. “So we’re just gonna let this play out?” Sarge whispered, then covered it with a fake as fuck cough.

Were they? Could he stand by and watch this? Could he live with himself?

Viper ran a hand across his scruffy chin. He’d been too hung-over and tired to bother shaving that morning. “Fuck,” he mumbled. “How did we not know about this? Can’t believe they managed to keep the fact they’re trafficking women a secret from us for an entire year. Christ, for my entire fucking life.” How clueless had he been all these years?

“Too risky when we were just prospects,” Sarge responded. “Now that we’ve patched in, we’re committed. No choice but to be loyal. Well, I guess we could choose to die.” He snorted out a soft laugh.

“Goddammit.” Never in a million years had Viper imagined his dream turning into a shit-pile so fast.

“We gotta do something, V,” Sarge said. The guy’s moral code was looser than a whore’s twat. If he had a problem with this, the situation was pretty fucking bad.

“Can’t do shit right now, brother,” Viper said as the van rolled to a stop. “Meet me at my place when we’re done. We’ll come up with a plan.”

The club had its fingers in just about every illegal pot in three counties. Drugs, guns, money laundering, even prostitution. They owned two cat houses full of women selling themselves daily. Viper never so much as blinked at any of it. Difference was, each and every one of those women came to the club willingly looking to work.

This shit? The chick in the back of that van? Yeah, she’d been sold to the highest bidder, and Viper was pretty fucking sure she didn’t agree to be.

A short, stout man with a cheap rug and a stash that rivaled a seventies porn star climbed down from the driver’s side of the van. He strutted with an exaggerated swagger befitting a cocky teenager trying to hang with real men. With the pile of gold chains and tuft of chest hair peeking from the collar of his silk button-up, the man was practically a cartoon pimp.

“Hey, Fox. Long time no see.” The man greeted Viper’s father with a limp, probably damp handshake.

“Yeah, sorry about that, Wayne. Had a cop sniffing around for a few months. Had to lay low with this shit,” Fox replied. His shoulder-length hair had gone gray a few years ago, but even at fifty, Fox managed to maintain a hard and intimidating physique.

Wayne played with the longest of his necklaces. “Heard about that. Glad it’s all cleared up.” He sent a smarmy smile Fox’s way. “Got you a beaut this time, boys. Rich little princess. Virgin too.” He whistled. “She’ll be fun as shit for your buyer to break in.”

Viper’s stomach turned as his father and the rest of his cronies laughed. He’d grown up in the club. Not a single day went by where he hadn’t been at the clubhouse for some reason or another. He’d spent thousands of hours around the men he loved like family. From the time he was twelve, he’d caught snippets of club business he should never have been privy to. Not once in all that time did anyone let slip that they trafficked women. Those conversations had all occurred behind closed doors.