Read Marek (Knights Corruption MC #1) Online
Authors: S. Nelson
Marek (Knights Corruption MC #1)
Marek
Copyright © 2016 S. Nelson
Marek/ S.Nelson.—1st edition
ISBN-13: 978–1530516018
ISBN-10: 1530516013
Editing by
Cover Design by
Interior Design and Formatting by
Christine Borgford,
Perfectly Publishable
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the publisher’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Table of Contents
This book is dedicated to my husband. Thank you so much for being patient with me while I lock myself in the office, writing for countless hours on end. I love you!
This book touches on the subjects of rape, violence, and hard situations that may trigger bad memories for those who have been in similar situations.
Not suitable for anyone under 18.
Marek
Too many voices shouted demands, hands shoving me roughly forward until I was no longer standing on my own two feet. “Get on the ground!” was the one I heard the most. My knees hit hard off the gravel, my stomach kissing earth while my hands were jerked behind my back before I could utter a single word of protest. People in uniforms clambering to throw me and all my brothers down like we’d done something wrong. Don’t make any mistake, we certainly weren’t boy scouts, but the sudden invasion was most definitely unwarranted.
The DEA agent towering over me was none other than Sam Koritz, the most crooked motherfucker I knew, and that was saying a lot since I was the furthest from a straight arrow myself. He was forever trying to nail my club, even though it was because of us that his pockets were fattened to not only look the other way, but to forget we even existed.
Running my club, the Knights Corruption, was profitable but extremely dangerous. We were accountable for two-thirds of the cocaine supply smuggled into central California. The ports we utilized were run by us and people we paid handsomely to keep the profit high and the risk low. But every now and then, someone became greedy—hence Koritz busting in like he owned the joint.
Fuck him if he thought he was gonna get away with this shit. I’d put one of my boys on him just as soon as we were able to. Maybe pay a visit to his house, have a little chat, remind him who paid for his kid’s private school.
While I sucked the dirt into my lungs, my arms aching from the tightly coiled position, I dreamed up ways of paying back exactly who I knew was responsible—besides Koritz, of course.
The Savage fucking Reapers.
Koritz was most likely in bed with them as well, and whoever paid more won out every time. I had no doubt Henry ‘Psych’ Brooks, the president of the Savage Reapers, had put the DEA agent up to it. And why not? Killing two birds with one stone. If they found what they were looking for—drugs, guns and money—they’d profit. And if not, they’d been able to send a message by allowing us to witness Koritz’s betrayal.
The continual war between our two clubs was coming to a head very soon. We’d already had casualties, and it would be over my dead body if any more of us were gonna meet the Devil any time soon.
“Where the hell is it, Marek?” Koritz shouted, stomping his boot down on top of my neck.
I’m gonna kill this sonofabitch as soon as I get the chance.
Trying my best not to give him the reaction he wanted, I spit the soil from my mouth and laughed. As soon as the sound burst forth, he kicked me in the ribs before I could change positions to protect myself. I should have known it was coming, but I was too preoccupied with pissing the bastard off.
A rush of air flew from my lips, a low groan escaping before I could stop it. “Touch my prez one more fuckin’ time, and you’ll be meetin’ your maker real soon,” my VP, Stone, yelled. We faced each other on the ground, and as soon as his eyes met mine, I shot him a warning look for him to shut his mouth and lock it up. His reddened face told me he was seconds away from exploding.
Luckily, he did as I’d silently cautioned.
Loyalty.
Plain and simple.
His mouth and hot-ass temper were gonna land us in more trouble if he kept going. While I appreciated his undying allegiance to me and to the club, we needed to let this all play out.
Koritz didn’t even pay Stone’s threat any attention, keeping his focus on me the entire time instead. I saw his foot leave the ground, cock back then swing forward. I braced myself that time, but it didn’t do any good—the fucker came wearing shit-kickers, and my ribs certainly felt the brunt of it. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d broken a couple in his attempt to make me talk. But that’s okay, because when the opportunity presented itself to pay him back, I’d make sure to return the favor.
“I’m not gonna ask you again,
Prez
,” he gritted, pacing back and forth, waiting for me to divulge the location of what they’d come here looking for—the product. But if he thought he would find it on our own goddamn compound, he was even stupider than I thought. We never kept that shit on site. The worst thing they would come across would be a few illegal handguns. That’s it.
Lifting my head off the ground, I craned my neck to look up at him. Words fell from my lips, but he couldn’t hear them. Which was done half on purpose, because I wanted him to squat down to my level. The other part was because I was having a hard time breathing. Finally, he did exactly what I wanted him to, leaning down so he could hear me.
“What was that, you piece of shit?” he yelled.
“Nothing,” I replied, a drop of blood spraying from my mouth and hitting the dirt.
“What?” He was losing whatever patience he had left, and if I wasn’t careful my ass was gonna really be hurtin’ come morning.
He knew enough to make sure I was tied up and on the ground before he attacked me, otherwise, he’d have an up–close-and-personal relationship with my fists. He was no match for me, and the coward knew it. The man was in his late forties and ate too much garbage, the pot belly hanging over his belt proof of his overindulgences. His receding hairline was noticeable even though he tried to hide it with a laughable comb-over.
I was everything he wasn’t and he knew it, so he exerted his authority, or whatever authority he thought he had. Once I found my opportunity, we’d see who the big man was then.
“Nothing,” I said louder. “There’s nothing here, so you assholes are wasting my precious tax dollars,” I goaded.
“Tax dollars? As far as I’m aware, criminals don’t pay taxes, or did that change? Oh, wait, I forgot all about the little strip club the Knights own,” he chided. “Maybe that’ll be our next stop. Maybe it accidently gets torched,” he threatened, nodding as if he was truly pondering it.
I’d been venturing out to legal businesses, my main goal to turn my club legit. Simply put, the way we were doing things was way too dangerous, and I was tired of it all. I was only twenty-eight years old, but most days I felt twice my age. Physically, I was as fit as could be, but mentally, I was drained. Stressed the fuck out. Sick of the bloodshed. I’d seen more in my short life than most men saw in their entire existence, and enough was enough. But there were debts which had to be repaid and vengeance that needed to be carried out before I called it legit for good. Once we went straight, we weren’t gonna teeter back and forth between the two worlds, so we had to be sure everything was taken care of first.
Realizing Koritz wasn’t gonna get anything out of us, he straightened up and yelled to his men, “Search it! Tear it apart if you have to. We have all night,” he promised, his foot coming dangerously close to my face.
