Jax's Dilemma:Insurgents Motorcycle Club (Insurgents MC Romance Book 2) (15 page)

Chas, Jax, PJ, and Axe nodded. Each of them had anger mixed with excitement etched on their faces.

“Now, I’d like some more coffee.” Chas grinned as he waved the waitress over to the table.

*     *     *

Forty miles outside
of Kilson in an abandoned grain tower, the Insurgents observed two SUVs kicking up dust on the back road. The sun had just set and the full moon shone brightly in the eastern sky.

Exiting the SUVs were six men. The Insurgents recognized all but one of them. Liam—a short, round man with reddish-blond hair and blotchy skin—smiled wide when he recognized his old friends.

“Good to see you again,” he said in a thick, Irish brogue.

Hawk nodded. “Likewise. We’re here to fix what the Kilson club fucked up.”

“Appreciate it. Your club has always been top-notch, and I hoped you’d step in. This club here is fucked up. They don’t know a damn thing, and that’s what makes them dangerous,” Liam said.

Jax eyed each of the men who fanned around the Irishman. He kept his eyes on their hands—he didn’t want any surprises. If something went wrong, he knew the Insurgents were prepared. His job was to make sure nothing went wrong.

A sweaty man with a pock-marked face stood to the right of the Irishman. His suit was crumpled by the night’s humid air, and his slight pot belly strained against his shirt. He chewed gum, and his constant jaw movement jarred on Jax’s nerves in the worst way.

“Who’s this?” Hawk pointed to the sweating man.

“This is a colleague of mine, McFahey.”

“What the fuck is he doing here, Liam? That wasn’t the deal. We don’t know him,” Jax said, his tone harsh and chilling.

“He’s cool. He’s been on several transactions with me, and he’s funding this one. McFahey is a councilman from your neck of the woods,” Liam replied.

“Pinewood Springs? Well, fuck, imagine that, a crooked politician.” Jax laughed dryly.

“Why the fuck are you funding this?” Hawk asked. Under his breath he said to Jax, “I don’t like this.”

Jax moved closer to McFahey. The rotund man shifted in place.

“As I said, he’s funding—”

“Let him talk for his fuckin’ self,” Hawk ordered, cutting Liam off.

McFahey wiped his forehead with a white handkerchief then threw a politician’s smile at the Insurgents. “I’ve worked with Liam on several arms deals. I’m trustworthy.”

“What’s in it for you?” Hawk glared at him.

“Favors. In the political arena, favors are worth more than cold cash. Liam provides me with favors, and I wanted to ask a favor of your club. I can help you and you can help me. I need bodyguards for some of my, shall we say, not politically correct activities. You get my drift?”

“We’re not here for that. This deal is between Insurgents and Liam. All the other shit you take up with our president, Banger. For now, keep the fuck outta the way. You get
my
drift?” Hawk gave McFahey a steely stare.

Jax moved in closer to McFahey who took a few steps back, threw up his hands and said, “I’m not here to make trouble. I’m totally in the background.”

“Fuckin’ stay there,” Jax said through gritted teeth.

After the air cleared, the deal went down without a hitch. The Irishman and his guys inspected the weapons to make sure they all checked out while Chas, PJ, and Axe counted the money. Jax, Throttle, and Hawk stood watch.

Shaking Hawk’s hand, Liam said, “It’s always a pleasure doing business with you. Today seemed like old times.”

“Yeah. See you,” Hawk said.

Liam, the politician, and the bodyguards drove off in their SUVs. The Insurgents waited until they couldn’t see the vehicles any longer. The deal had taken less than thirty minutes.

“Let’s get down to the barn and wait for the back-stabber to show up so I can kick some traitor ass,” Jax said.

They all laughed. Night had crept in, and it was imperative they reach the barn before it became too dark. Darkness shadowed all levels of evil, and both the traitor and the Insurgents needed the cover of nighttime to hide their grim secrets. They kick-started their bikes and sped toward the red barn.

An hour later, the rumble of a Harley alerted the Insurgents someone was approaching the barn. Taking up their positions, they crouched down. The door creaked open and a tall figure walked in, a high-beam flashlight in his hand scanning the barn’s interior. With his boot, he swept away the dust and hay on top of the floor. Once cleared off, he kneeled down and knocked on the wooden floorboards as if to see if there were any spaces beneath them.

“Looking for somethin’?” Jax said as he stepped out of the shadows.

The man jumped up and wiped his hands on his dirty jeans.

“Maybe I can help you.” Jax smiled menacingly.

“Wh-what are you doing here?” Shack’s gaze flitted around the room.

“The more important question is, what the fuck are
you
doing here?”

He shrugged. “I was here the other day looking for old parts, scrap metal and such, and I lost my blade. Came back to look for it, that’s all.” His eyebrows drew together.

“That’s the lamest shit I’ve ever heard. The problem with you is you can’t think so good on your feet, Shack.” Jax took a few steps toward him.

Shack started to move toward the barn door when Hawk and Chas appeared out of the shadows. Axe, Throttle, and PJ stood watch outside in case Shack brought anyone along. Hawk and Chas blocked Shack’s way, and Jax walked over until he stood in front of Shack. Jax was so close he could smell the fear on Shack’s skin.

“What the fuck are you doin’?” Shack said. “You’re in my territory, and I don’t like or put up with this shit.”

Jax smiled and turned sideways, looking at Hawk and Chas. “Do you believe this asshole?
You
don’t like what
we’re
doing?” Jax kicked one of Shack’s legs, making him crumple to the floor. “
We
don’t like what
you’re
doin’, you traitorous piece of shit.” Jax punched him in the stomach.

Shack groaned and looked up at Hawk. “Are you gonna let him treat me like this?”

A small smirk tugged at Hawk’s upper lip. “Nah, I’m gonna let him treat you worse. This is your lucky day. We’re in a good mood ’cause we just made a shitload of money in a smooth-as-silk deal. So because we’re all good, we’re not gonna gut you. We’ll let you decide your form of punishment. Aren’t you lucky today?” Hawk slammed his fist in Shack’s face, and blood spurted out of his nose.

Jax, pushing Shack down on his ass, said, “Your choices for being a fuckin’ back-stabber—to not just your club, but to all Insurgents—are: having your right hand maimed, having your legs broken, or crushing your balls so you can join the boys’ choir.”

“See, we can be generous—we’re letting you choose.” Chas laughed.

“You think I’m scared of you fuckers? You come here thinkin’ your shit don’t stink. You’re a bunch of assholes.” Shack struggled to stand up.

“Now that’s not the right attitude to have ’cause our good mood may turn bad, and we may decide not to give you any choices and just do whatever the hell we want to.” Jax crossed his arms; he was itching to beat the shit out of this back-stabber. If Shack were one of the brothers of the national club, he’d already have been tortured and killed, but since he was a member of a charter club, they decided to teach him a lesson and let Shack’s own club burn him.

“What’s your decision? We’re done with this shit. My boys and I gotta grab some dinner and whiskey, so let’s get this over with,” Hawk said.

“You think I’m gonna make this easy for you motherfuckers? You think I’m scared of a bunch of pussies? I faced a helluva lot worse over in Iraq.”

Jax looked over to Hawk who nodded in response. Reaching for the sledgehammer, Jax grabbed it, motioned for Chas to hold Shack still then slammed it down on Shack’s hand, crushing it. Shack screamed before Jax brought the hammer down again, breaking more bones in the traitor’s hand. Shack grunted as he curled up in a ball on the wooden floor. After a couple of blows to his ribs, Jax stepped away from Shack, who had passed out from the pain. Chas stood up and kicked him in his side. Shack emitted a low moan.

“Fuckin’ double-crosser. He’s goddamn lucky we didn’t cut his throat,” Jax fumed.

“We’ll let Dustin know what a fucker his VP is and where to find him. Let him deal with the asshole the way he and his club see fit. Let’s grab some dinner,” Hawk said.

The five of them recovered their bikes from the thicket behind the barn. Revving up the motorcycles, they headed toward the diner in Kilson.

After dinner, as the Colorado Insurgents milled around the clubhouse, Jax overheard Dustin ask where Shack was as his arm draped around a young-looking girl. Jax couldn’t believe the charter club was part of the Insurgents family. He took pride in his brotherhood, and all these jerks wanted to do was fuck underage girls, snort and smoke crank and coke, and back-stab. If it were up to him, he’d throw their asses out of the Insurgents family. He turned away in disgust and threw back his shot of whiskey. They were going to leave the next day, and for Jax, it couldn’t come soon enough.

Gazing around the room, Jax spotted the blonde and redhead from the previous night heading his way. With their long hair swinging, their tits hanging out, and their short skirts revealing no panties, his dick should’ve been hard as hell as they approached him. It wasn’t. He didn’t want those women; all he wanted was to put his arms around Cherri and show her how good he could make her feel.

As the two women came closer, Jax made his way down a hallway and ducked into a small closet. He dialed Cherri’s number. No answer.
She’s probably working.
He wondered if she were giving any lap dances. The image of her grinding her ass on a man’s dick made his skin prick from stabs of anger. He didn’t want to think about whether Gunner was at Dream House, waiting for Cherri to finish her shift so he could take her home with him and fuck her.
That
thought made the anger rush to his temples and throb painfully. He slammed his fist into the door over and over, ignoring the pain and the dripping blood. The door opened, and the blonde and the redhead stared at him, wide-eyed.

“Whatcha doin’ in there, sweetie?” The blonde took his aching hand in hers and wiped off the blood with a Kleenex.

“Let’s go to your room and fix you all up. We’ll make you forget whatever’s bothering you. We’ll give you a real good time.” The redhead winked at him as she placed a wet kiss on his cheek.

Fuck, this is what I need to get my mind straight. I’m tired of thinking about that ice princess. She set all this shit in motion. Fuck her—two can play at her game.

Snaking his arms around both women, Jax squeezed them close to him as they made their way to his room.

*     *     *

“What the fuck?
The deal was done yesterday? Why wasn’t I informed?” Dustin stomped his feet on the parking lot gravel as he stared at Hawk, who packed up his saddlebags on his Harley. The other bikers, finished packing, sat on their hogs, waiting for Hawk’s signal to pull out.

“No reason to tell you. You fucked-up big time, and Banger didn’t want our reputation ruined by a bunch of flunky morons,” Hawk said.

“You disrespected me, brother.”

“
Disrespected?
You don’t know what the fuck the word means. You’re lucky we came down and saved your sorry ass on the arms deal. No more chances, Dustin. The next fuck-up your club does, Insurgents will throw you out. Your club will be done. Got it?”

Dustin glared at Hawk, his lips pursed.

“Oh, and we’re taking seventy-five percent of the money for all our trouble. We had to haul our asses over here to save yours. That’s bullshit, and you know it.”

“Seventy-five percent? That’s fuckin’ stealing.” Dustin moved toward Hawk.

Hawk clenched his hands into fists and gritted through his teeth, “Don’t take another step. I don’t wanna hurt you, but I will. The money is not open for discussion. We didn’t have to give you anything since all you did was fuck things up.”

Dustin stood in place, hatred radiating from him.

Jax laughed. “Smart move, Dustin. You better not move your old ass.”

Hawk swung his leg over his Harley, put on his sunglasses, and took a long look at Dustin. He said, “We found out the double-crosser is your fuckin’ VP. You can find him on the floor of the barn off Highway 287. We taught him a lesson, but we left the rest of him for you. Clean up your club, or it’s history.”