Sons of Mayhem 2: Blood and Whisky (2 page)

BOOK: Sons of Mayhem 2: Blood and Whisky
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CHAPTER THREE

 

Two Days Earlier.

It was cold and dark in the silent room as the man stood over the body in silent contemplation. His eyes ran across the corpse methodically as he analyzed exactly what he'd have to do to it.

He'd never done this before and he didn't want to fuck it up. That'd be bad. Very bad. What he was about to do would have disgusted all but the most mentally sick individuals. People like him.

But if his plans were to come together, then it was something that had to be done. He rolled up his sleeves before pulling on l
ong latex gloves and gently grasping the cool steel of a scalpel.

"Easy does it," he said softly to himself as he placed the razor sharp point of the metal tool up against the head. "Here we go."

The man began to slice into the forehead of the corpse in front of him, skillfully following the imaginary line needed to scalp the man properly. The room was silent except for his gentle breath and the almost imperceptible sound of metal cutting through cold skin and scraping the skull.

The man began to speak almo
st lovingly, "There's a good dead body. Now if I just cut down here like this..." He was beginning to enjoy himself.

He shivered as he worked, but it was just because of the coolness of the room. He also shuddered with pleasure; he'd never done something l
ike this before. He'd obviously chosen the wrong profession. It was filthy work, but someone had to do it. And it'd be worth it. Oh, the payout would be huge. If everything went according to plan, that is.

Thirty minutes later he was done. He placed the sc
alp into a large zip lock bag. He slipped the plastic bag into a messenger bag. With one final look around to see if he'd missed anything he zipped up his hold-all and headed for the door.

The lifeless corpse stained the body-drawer red, alone and unloved
as the man left. Outside a powerful motorcycle engine roared as the man flew off into the night. He had a lot of work left to do to bring their plan to fruition.

CHAPTER FOUR

 

6:30pm Nicole

Jase hugged each of the men as they entered. First was Bottle who was a skinny guy with teardrop tattoos under his right eye.
Why did he do that? Jase's tats are cool, but those teardrops? Ugh...

"
What the fuck Jasey-boy." His greeting was a statement rather than a question. Bottle's soft voice belied his appearance and I immediately began to reverse my first impression. There was a hidden warmth to his voice, and I guessed perhaps there was a story to go with his scary facial tattoo.

Behind him was T-Bone
, a shaven-headed monster of a man.
How the hell does he fit on a motorbike?
As he lumbered into the warehouse I half-expected the floor to shake. If it was anything but thick concrete it probably would have. His breathing was labored as he silently thudded his gloved fist into Jase's before embracing him in a bear hug.

"What are you going to do with them?" I asked, as they finished greeting each other, wrinkling my nose at the pathetic guys lying on the floor.

T-Bone grinned before opening his maw. His voice had the rasp of a man for whom a sixty-a-day smoking habit would be a healthy improvement. "I was thinking the bridge over by the highway, near the truck-stop, y'know? Toss 'em off in front of a big rig."

My
eyes went wide.
What the fuck?

"Naw. Let's take 'em to the lake. The eels and carp and shit will have great fun with them." The gentleness of Bottle's voice was broken when he scared me with a loud screech.
Was that laughter?
I watched as he eyed the terrified men on the floor "Yum, yum, fish food."
Are they serious? I hope they're not serious. They look serious.

Jase laughed and I felt the tension in me release a little. "You're going to give them heart attacks boys." He turned to look at me. "Don't worry
, we'll just drop them off in the ghetto or some shit. Even though they tried to kill me, I'm a forgiving guy. That and they're fucking idiot meth heads. I don't wanta deal with getting rid of their stupid bodies. Not worth the labor or the risk. We'll send the pledges out to pick them up later."

I watched half in horror as T-Bone carefully spat on the face of each of the cowering men.
I wanta do that too. They tried to kill us.
The men didn't dare move and just whimpered quietly, accepting it.

Bottle went
outside and returned shortly after with a thick roll of duct tape. I watched as he wrapped the tape around their wrists and ankles, before connecting the two together, trussing them up like Thanksgiving turkeys.

Jase meanwhile headed upstairs to place the
riot gun back in its box. Within five minutes of the reinforcements arriving we were ready to roll. I gave one final look of contempt to the wannabe-killers as I hopped on the back of Jase's motorcycle. I didn't fall this time.

When Jase hopped on the fron
t, I yelled, "Let's just ride right over them!"
What's getting in to me?

I saw a gratifying look of panic cross their face before they heard Jase laugh. "Naw, they'll get my bike all methy."

I paused for a second before getting his pun and bursting out laughing. My giggles were drowned out as Jase started the bike's engine.

We slowly rolled out of the warehouse. Jase hopped off the bike and dragged the door shut leaving the two meth heads locked inside to await their later pickup.

Bottle and T-Bone were already sitting astride their motorcycles outside. Bottle was on a bike similar to Jase's, but T-Bone's was much bigger. I didn't know much about bikes but his was obviously a custom job of some kind. The muffler-less bikes filled the air with the smell of exhaust fumes and the occasional loud pop as the engines waited to be let loose.

Jase climbed back on the bike in front of me, pushed it up straight with his boot and kicked the stand back home. As he signaled to the other two men to move out I consciously
let my legs relax as I sat on the back of the motorcycle. As we roared away towards the highway I already felt more comfortable.
Is this really only the second time I've been on the back of a bike?

As we flew away I wrapped my arms around Jase again, lovin
g the feel of soft leather over a hard body. The sun was setting and the air rushing over my skin was cooling down fast. I began to shiver and hoped the clubhouse wasn't too far away.

The other two men rode in parallel behind us making a triangle as we fi
lled the desert valley with the roars of engines. The cool wind poured through my hair and I felt like letting out a scream of joy, or pent-up fear, or excitement or
something
.

Jase turned around and looked at me and grinned. I could see that just being on
the bike had brought his mood up. He turned around and with a twist of his wrist sent the bike shooting forward.

He stood up on the pegs and let out a loud "Aroo!". That was enough for me. I let out my pent up emotions in my own cry of, "Woo!" that went
on an amount of time that would have embarrassed me in any other circumstance. But right then, I didn't fucking care.

Goddamn it feels good to be part of this.

CHAPTER FIVE

 

6:30pm

He'd left his motorcycle at home today. This was a truck day. And most importantly it was a truck that had no connection to him whatsoever.

Before he made his move he checked in the mirror to make sure he looked perfect. He didn't want a hair out of place for tonight's work.

The sawed-off shotgun was loaded and ready for action. He pulled on dark sunglasses before he exited the van and headed down the street. Although the sun was beginning to set it wasn't yet difficult to see, even with the glasses.

He spied his targets from across the street. The neighborhood was quiet, and there were no cops in sight. This was the riskiest part of his plan, but it was imperative it be done this way. It should only take 45 seconds, maybe a minute maximum. Little chance of the cops rolling by in that time frame.

There they were. The two young Hispanic men were always on the corner at that time. Like clockwork. A car drove by, slowed down, a deal was made, and then they were alone again. Perfect.

He walked by an ATM and crossed the now deserted road. Innocent people, civilians, didn't spend much time in this part of town. Almost everyone here was doing
something
or part of
something
, or related to someone who was.

The two men were having a heated discussion in Spanish as he
approached and didn't even notice him until it was too late.

As far as the Mexicans were concerned they weren't at war at the moment. It was a brief time of peace and their guard was down. This was their territory and it had been for years. No one else eve
n wanted it; it was their people's land. A black gang, or anyone else, wouldn't even want it.

He walked towards them confidently, not running or walking. His steps were quiet but this came naturally to him. He wasn't a small man, but he was a quiet one. Wh
en he was just a few yards away he reached under his leather jacket and pulled out the firearm. Neither of them even saw the gun until it was too late.

One minute they were talking, the next minute one of them had a newly formed red cavern in his chest as
the other was deafened by the roar and splattered with blood. The first man didn't make a sound as he dropped to the ground, his body already lifeless.

The second blood-spattered Mexican futilely reached behind him to pull out the handgun he had secreted
in the back of his jeans. Before his hand had even clasped the grip of the gun it was already too late. The shotgun spoke again and the second man dropped to the floor on top of his dead friend.

Breathing fast now the man pointed the shotgun down at the two bodies, and pumped and fired three more times, ruining any chance of an open casket at their funerals.

Panting with the exhilaration of the kills he slipped the the now warm firearm back under his jacket. Blood roared through his veins and he took a deep breath, heady with his success. He felt great, he felt
alive.

He turned around and walked up the sidewalk before crossing again to get back to the truck.

As he walked away the security camera in the ATM continued to silently record the two bodies on the street in front of it. They'd captured everything.

 

CHAPTER SIX

 

7:30pm - Nicole

By the time we arrived it was dark and I was shivering hard, my legs and bare skin covered in goose bumps. We must have been riding nearly an hour. I had been pressed up against Jase for warmth, using his body to block the wind, but it wasn't enough. I'd know to bring something warmer to wear next time.

Two younger guys in leather jackets rolled back the entrance gate as we turned up. There was a sign up reading "S.O.M.E. Security", and then another saying "S.O.M.E. Debt collection"

We gently rolled up to a well-lit one story building. Loud rock music poured out from inside, mingling with yells and laughs and the occasional shriek and moan.

Here we go.
I jumped off the bike next to Jase who wrapped an arm around me. "You're freezing!"

"I'm okay," I lied.

"Let's get you inside and all warmed up." That sounded like a fine plan to me. Before we headed indoors Jase removed his jacket and draped it over my shoulders, on my smaller frame it enveloped me and the bottom of the jacket hung lower even than my shorts.
If I did the zipper up, it'd look like I was naked except for the jacket.
I giggled to myself. Jase raised an eyebrow at me, but then shook his head and grinned as if he knew what I was thinking.

When the jacket covered me I was engulfed in a heady scent I'll never forget. The smell of man and leather
. Sexy man and leather. I felt like I was already drunk as we headed inside with his arm wrapped around me.

I gulped as Jase pushed open the door and I got my first glimpse of the home of the life changing world of the outlaw motorcycle gang. I'd only know
n the tattooed man with his arm wrapped around me for a few hours, but I already felt like I belonged to him. We'd been through so much in such a short time it seemed.

A handsome looking man with an English accent approached us, "I was worrying about you J
ase."
Cute.

Jase laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "It'll take more than a couple of methaholics to bring me down Lonnie."

"Oh I didn't mean that, I meant her," he said nodding his head at me.

What does that mean?

"Very funny." Jase turned away from his friend back to me. "C'mon lets get something to warm you up." Jase pushed me towards the other side of the dimly-lit room to where a bar appeared to have been set up.

As we walked across I surveyed my surroundings. There were tables and chairs scatter
ed about and a few booths along the walls. Towards my right was a pool table. Presumably the pool table on which Lucy had been playing with a different kind of balls to what were currently being cannoned around the table by two long-haired and leather-jacketed men.

My eyes widened slightly when I saw what appeared to be two girls around my age passionately kissing while two guys cheered them on. Of course I'd seen girls doing similar things to impress the boys at frat parties, in fact Lucy had even made me
do it with her once much to my embarrassment, but it seemed strangely much more erotic in this den of bikers. It seemed more
real
. These were people with real jobs and lives doing real things, not like the fake bubble of living that most students at Farmington College surrounded themselves in.

Jase saw me looking around. "It's usually a pretty fun time here on a Saturday night. Or a Friday. Or I guess any day really." I wasn't sure if Jase was proud or embarrassed. I got the impression that he didn't necess
arily think it was all as fun as it looked.

"Yo BK!" Jase called to the pledge working behind the bar, "Do us a couple of hot toddies. The lady here is cold." I don't think I'd ever been called a lady; at least not since I was a little girl in trouble gett
ing called
young lady
in a disapproving tone.

I smiled at Jase. "Sit down," he said. So I did.
Yes sir.
I climbed up on to a barstool and was pleased when he pushed another one closer to mine before sitting next to me.

"What's a hot toddy?" I guessed it wa
s a drink but I didn't know exactly.
I hope it doesn't have chili in it.

"It'll warm you up. A bit of whiskey, lemon, honey, ginger. That kinda stuff. Good if you're cold, great if you
have
a cold. Good for getting kids to sleep too."

I laughed. "No chili?
"

He grinned. "Want me to put some tabasco in it?"

I smacked him on the arm with a smile, again noticing how hard it was. "Don't you dare."

I wanted to ask him about the club, but didn't want to step on any toes or ask things that an outsider like me didn'
t have any business asking.
Fuck it, I don't know any better. I'll never learn if I don't ask.
"So the club. What do you guys actually do?"

Jase raised a hand to his chin and tapped it before speaking.
He's cute when he's thoughtful. If a guy like that
can
be described as cute
. "A bit of this, a bit of that. We got a little security company – Sons of Mayhem Expert Security. And a bit of debt collecting. Some of us have regular jobs too."

"So what do
you
do?"

"I manage the security business. Clubs, concerts,
stuff like that."

"Shouldn't you be working now then?" It was a Saturday night, after all.

Jase laughed and took my hand in his. "I'm the boss. I manage when the others fuck up. That and I do the boring stuff during the week; talking to clients and shit."

Boss of a company? Vice President of a motorcycle club? Not bad. Not bad.

"But that's enough about my boring little life. I want to hear about you, Nicole." He gave my hand a squeeze and then let our hands drop to my thigh.

I raised my eyes in disbelief "
Boring? If that'd boring then I must be an eighty year old grandmother, I'd hate to see exciting!"

He laughed. "Tell me about you. What's your major? When do you graduate? What do
you want to do? C'mon, fill me in!"

I sighed.
My life is boring. I want to know about you.
"There's not much to say about me. Let's see, I'm majoring in Business Management and Communications, I'm twenty one years old, I'm--" My litany of boring facts was interrupted by a pleasant looking man in forties. Well, as pleasant as a leather jacketed man with tattoos across his hands can look.

"Jason, sorry to hear about the little bit of bother you got yourself in today. We should sue."

I watched on bemused as Jase rolled his eyes. "Yeah we'll get right on that Eag. What do you want?

"
Sorry to drag you away from the young lady,"
What's with all the 'ladies'?
"But you're wanted. Bigfella wants to see you. He's in his room."

Jase nodded. "Is he alone? I don't need to see
that
again..."
What's 'that'?

Eag laughed. "Don't worry. Some young
chick in a nurse costume just left. You better get in there quick though if you want your turn at him."

I grinned as Jase rolled his eyes at Eag. "Fuck off."

Jase pushed his barstool backwards and turned to me. "Sorry. It's about that thing earlier. I'll be back soon. Promise. Don't go anywhere, okay?" Before I could respond he pressed his warm lips against my cold ones for a second then turned away.
I could get used to that.

I watched him as he walked away until he disappeared down a hallway off of the mai
n room. The bartender drew my attention back in his direction by thumping down two steaming cups on the counter. Two cups, but he'd already gone.

I wrapped my hands around a hot mug and was relieved when Eag sat down to join me. I wasn't exactly ready to g
o and mingle with this crowd yet.
If Jase was with me I would though.

Eag clinked his bottle of beer against my steaming mug.

"Eag. Nice to meet you."

"Nicole. Likewise."

"So how do you know Jase?"

"Oh, I met him through my roommate."

"Who's your roommate?"

"Lucy. Lucy Bennigan, I think she got initiated or something today."

"Lucy? I don't know any... oh! You mean
Juicy
, right?"

"Uh, I guess."
What's with all these nicknames?

I took a sip of the drink savoring the burn of the alcohol and the sweetness of the honey.
Not bad.
"So umm, 'Eag', that's an unusual name."

He laughed. He placed his bottle down on the wood counter and  held his hands out in front of me.
What's he doing?

"Hold on." Eag stood up, and before I knew it he was standing behind me, his body pressed up against the back of my barstool.
What the hell is he doing?

Ahhhh
. I finally understood now that the letters on his hands were the right way around in front of me. Across the knuckles it read "L - E - G - A - L" on his left hand and "E - A - G - L - E" on the other hand. Legal Eagle.

I understood the writing, but I still didn't exactly get it. When Eag had sat down again I asked him, "So Eag is short for Eagle right
. Why? Do you like the law or something?"

He frowned. "I don't
like
the law. I
am
the law."

I laughed. "What, like Judge Dredd?"

He frowned again. "I don't know what that is. No, I'm a lawyer."

"Was." As if from nowhere Lonnie had appeared again. "You
were
a lawyer."

Eag looked insulted. "Same difference."

"Well, not in the eyes of the law. Maybe that's why you're not a lawyer anymore."

"Yeah, well at least I'm not from England."

Lonnie laughed at him. "Ah that razor wit is a delight. If I ever leave the Land of the Free, then the one thing I'll miss is the wit of Eag."

I laughed at the pair of them.
Lonnie's funny.

 

BOOK: Sons of Mayhem 2: Blood and Whisky
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