Black and White (Storm's Soldiers MC Book 1) (10 page)

CHAPTER TEN

Vaughn

The day crested harsh and angry. I grumbled up on my shitty little cot. My body had gotten used to better beds – and company on them. Sure, I could buy a better cushion to rest on here, but it wouldn’t compare to the whole package.

It was just the third time this week I’d woken up here. Meagan had an insatiable appetite – she’d texted me the day right after I popped up on her porch asking for another helping. I was happy to serve, but damn, did she wear me out. That was another thing that made crashing with her that much better. I got a sound sleep after putting my body to such fine use.

I got a glass of OJ to wake me up proper. Calix and Asher were out on the porch blazing through a pack of smokes and looking out at the road. I sat down in their haze.

“Didn’t realize you were in,” Calix said without looking over.

“You didn’t see my bike parked right out front?” We shared the house - no way he didn’t know.

“Just rare to see you home for bed nowadays.”

“Didn’t realize I had a curfew.”

“Thurgood won’t tell us about the girl you’ve been pounding,” Asher chimed in. “Says he never saw her.”

Oh Thurge had seen her plenty, though not as much as me.

“He didn’t,” I said simply. “Besides it’s more than one ‘her’.”

“Na,” Calix rolled his head over. “This pattern’s more amenable to a steady situation.”

His face lay unreadable, but I’d seen that look enough times over the years. It said,
Better know what you’re doing.

He wasn’t talking about Meagan. This conversation would have a whole different tone if that were the case. He just didn’t put much stock in relationships in general. The Storm’s Saints were more than enough family for him. White nationalism would have his heart in a way no girl ever could.

“Listen,” I said. “I’m here when I’m needed. Doesn’t matter where I roll in from.”

“It’s all good,” Asher said. “Just want to make sure you’re safe.”

I snorted. “Since when do we do safe? Speaking off, where’s the merchandise?”

Asher shrugged, but Calix flinched his eyebrows at the horizon. “Believe that’s it right now.”

A beat up white sedan flickered down the country road, rolling past groves of trees and grassy pasture. It turned into the short driveway and rumbled up. Thurge stepped out.

“Nice cage,” I said, sidling down the porch.

“My dear departed mother’s,” he said patting it like a horse. “Thought it’d do her spirit good to see me take it for a spin.”

“She’d appreciate the fact the trunk was packed with guns?”

Thurge looked offended. “And why not? She knew her way around a sidearm, and she’d appreciate what we’re doing with these ones. She might not have supported the cause directly, but she was no race traitor.”

I flinched at the words. Race traitor. No, that’s not what I was. Sex was sex. If it came time to take up arms to defend a white nation, I would gladly do it.

Though my nighttime activities were hardly helping to get us towards that day.

Calix and Asher inspected the gear, while I saddled up on Viper. This was getting to be a monthly thing now. The drug cartels were always looking for ways to get military equipment and our connections put us in a sweet spot. They paid us top dollar for just a trunkful of machine guns and gear and we put the money into rallies and recruitment. We were an odd match, but hell, no use making enemies too early. Even the national socialists in WW2 allied with Asians and South Indians and some Arabs to advance their cause. As Asher would say, the guns were being put to use against other Mexicans anyway. Some counted that as another small victory, but it seemed beside the point to me.

We drove in convoy to the quarry where we made deals - Asher on his hog up front, and me and Calix flanking the back. Right before we descended into the pit, Asher got off and set up with a sniper rifle. He was an ex-Marine and it always made things smoother with him there.

The Cartel men were waiting. They only had a couple of guys, though they probably had their own Asher somewhere unseen. The lead guy had to be 40, with his silver mustache and thinning hair, but he stood smoking a cigar, wearing a fucking pink polo and golf pants. Calix walked right up to the cream puff and me and Thurge hung back, hands crossed, looking rough. The guy didn’t even bother checking anymore. He just had his dark skinned lackey toss us a sack of cash, then loaded the gear and rolled out.

I flicked through the stacks of bills. This was the bulk of my paycheck right here. My cut usually covered all the crap I’d need for the month, but as I’d bought my last pack of rubbers knowing full well who they would be entering, it felt like crossing another line to spend white nationalist money on that. I still had some left over money from a couple side gigs I’d worked a month ago. It hadn’t been the sort of stuff to get the Storm’s Soldiers involved in and nominally I’d burned through it in a week, but it wasn’t that long ago. It would just be a matter of self-deception to readjust the sums in my mind – seems I was getting good at that these days.

We took our little posse back to the bar and my brother and I secured the money in the vault safe. Only Calix and Homer – the Soldier’s President – were supposed to know the safe combination, but my brother made no motion to hide it in front of me. It made me uneasy for reasons I couldn’t quite comprehend. What, was I gonna take it all and donate it to the NAACP? Of course not, but the path went that way.

I pounded my fist against the safe door to empty my thoughts. Calix jolted up. “What the fuck?” he said.

I rubbed the heel of my hand, lost in blissful pain. “Just testing the strength.”

“Yours or the safe’s? One of them’s never had reason to be questioned.”

I rose out of the pain and saw Calix looking sharp at me, but with curiosity, not anger. “It’s nothing.”

He shut door and faced me square on. “What’s the matter with you? I thought it was Mom, but I know it ain’t that now. Is it this girl?”

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.” He sighed and clapped me on the back. “If this is a fight you gotta do, then so be it, I won’t intrude. But handle it. We’re soldiers, alright. We can’t fight clearly if our mind’s preoccupied.”

I knew what fight he was talking about. “It’s just a rally, there won’t be any violence.”

“Past results do not indicate the course of the future. There may be fights and there may not, but keep that in mind.”

He wore a distant look. I knew he dreamed of being there at the emancipation of the white race - that at one of these events, the common white folk would surge up and realize the state of affairs and rally around our cause. History had taught me different though. Movements built slowly and stayed underground for years, for decades – especially with concepts as radical as ours.

Hitler had been scheming for twenty years before he got his chance to rise. So too – I remembered now – had the abolitionists in the old South, before they held enough sway to get Lincoln to attack the South.

History might not repeat, but certain trends made themselves evident.

I just gave Calix a tight lipped smile and slipped out.

Meagan sent me another text late afternoon. One day off, one day on – like clockwork. I showed up under the moonlight on her porch.

She ripped open the door at the first knock. Despite the regularity of our meetings now, my mouth had trouble staying shut as I saw her succulent body held tight under a radiant white dress. It was like she had blanked out all her tasty parts and I would get to recreate them when I peeled the fabric off her in a few short minutes.

“Do you need an invitation to come in, Mr. Vampire?” she said, swaying all coyly.

I tossed open the screen door and slung into her lips-first. She staggered back against my kiss, almost tipping over, but I threw an arm around and held her face to mine. She tasted like strawberries, but I lingered and smelled her real aroma fresh and soft behind it.

I finally pulled off and looked around. She sank back against a wall, then saw what I was searching for.

“She’s with her mom for the weekend.”

I shrugged off my relief. That roommate of her and I didn’t see eye to eye at all. Not surprising, maybe, but it was odd thinking how completely normal this last week would have gone if I had seen her at the bar instead of the ripe little peach heaving before me.

Meagan traced a finger along my lips. She’d mentioned how surprised she was at how soft they felt even without any cushion. That had warranted a chuckle. I’d been admiring the same feeling in her mouth.

“Should we move upstairs?” she asked in a sultry voice.

“Seems like you just told me we have no reason to move anywhere.”

I stalked towards her and she tiptoed back into the dining room. Her eyes dripped lust with every step back – this was a game of cat and mouse where the mouse wanted nothing more than to be consumed. She tripped back on the piano bench and plopped down.

I sank in real close, our lips just a hot whisper apart. Her eyes trembled like liquid up close. Then, they shut, waiting for the end.

An idea struck me. I leaned into her ear and said. “Play for me.”

She snapped awake. “What?”

I lifted her legs and tossed them around the bench. “Let me see your hands move.”

She glanced over her shoulder, her eyebrows in disarray. “You want me to play the piano?”

I sank into a seat against the wall. “It’s been a stressful day,” I said. “I wouldn’t mind.”

She slid the cover off, still scrunched up with confusion. Her hands landed on the keys though and the anxiety slid off her like a sheet. Her first chords shook the room and she set off like thunder. My body rattled with her force and there was a strange comfort to the vibrations. Maybe it was cause the rumble felt like the pipes on Viper as I rode. Maybe it was something more primal than that. I know Mom had used to play. We still had her old brown Singer sitting against the wall in the den, covered with sheets like a funeral display.

What was better than that sound was the sight of Meagan at work. Her hands struck down demanding equal force back in the music. Her body crunched and released, revealing strength underneath all that softness. This was her in a way too, a steel core under that lush façade. She commanded the music like she were the general and the notes were her soldiers.

Still transfixed, I rose and came up around her. I ran my arms across her high shoulders and felt her energy burn through me, bring me to rise. My palms traced up her neck to her cheeks, and yet her hands did not flinch. They carried out her will, even as I cupped her pretty little face, tilted it back, and then sank mine onto it. My face rumbled as we tasted each other a moment longer and then her hands flew off the keys and seized me with that same force.

I dragged her up and shut the lid over the piano. Her hands fumbled around my jeans, but I led her focus back to our lips, still harsh and wet on each other. I leaned her back against the wood even as I unzipped that clean white dress. It was my turn to play now and I planned to get a goddamn symphony out of her.

She had on a satin white strapless bra which I left on, but I whisked the frilly panties off along with her dress. She sat open and bare and glistening on the seat, and my fingers tripped for a second and missed the chord I wanted to hit. She seized the moment to unclasp my belt. With a tug, I lay open and erect. I had intended to serve her first, but her mouth dove over me like a warm jet of water. I gasped at the flood of drowned pleasure, then looked down and nearly came at the sight of that gorgeous face bobbing so determined on me. Her doe eyes peeked up as she weaved her tongue at my tip.

“Is this what you want?” She panted, peeling off for a second.

“It’s all I’ve ever wanted baby.” I tore off my jacket and shirt to get ready for her, then plunged my fingers through her crisp dark hair. She nodded and sank her mouth back over me.

Soft wet sounds rattled through me like the chords once had. I felt this music in my body though. Felt myself rise higher for her and heard the blood roar in my ears. I wanted to hold this perfect moment forever, to keep the memory of this petite chocolate pixie who still knew how to get down hard.

Neither one of us hear the door rattle until it was creaking open. Then Megan peeked up, her mouth still full of me. I picked up the feel of another presence and groaned. Fucking Tara – had to mess up this moment. Well, fuck it, let that bitch take in the sight of us

I growled as I spun around.

A massive black man in gym gear stared wide-eyed and gaping at the door.

Meagan’s wet warmth left my body. “Darryl,” she gaped below me.

“What the fuck?” the man named Darryl said, taking one earth-shaking foot forward. I felt naked in more ways than one.

“Who the fuck is this?” I asked. “You have a boyfriend?”

“I’m her brother you bitch-ass Nazi piece of shit.”

He had murder in his eyes now, his gaze aimed at my piece dangling guilty between my legs. He was in a right mood to feed it to me. Well, let him come. My hands hardened to fists.

“Darryl!”

She beamed apologies to me with her eyes, and my anger shattered like ice.