Vengeful Soul by Emma Creed

This is big, real fucking big. Clunk’s photo and Jimmer Carson’s police record all in the same file as a pedophile take down operation.

I call Prez and get nothing, so I try Jessie straight after.

“Brax, I’m kinda in the middle of summit.” He finally picks up on my third attempt at getting hold of him.

“Jessie, focus, this is important. I need you to ride out to Red Rock point, take the first left and then follow the dirt track, right to the top. There’s a cabin. Meet me there.” I hang up the phone before he can argue, then scrub my hand over my face while I think about what I’m gonna do.

“Brax, what’s going on?” Gracie looks scared, real fucking scared, and it’s hard not to reach out and grab her.

“I need to get us some help. That man…” I point to the photo that's still in her hand. “He runs another club. One that we ain’t on good terms with,” I explain.

“So why are you so shocked that he has something to do with this?” she asks innocently.

“Because, for all our differences, there’s one rule every motorcycle club sticks by. One thing that binds us.”

“What’s that?” Gracie looks back at me like she’s hanging on my next words.

“Never kids…”

Some of us may be despicable excuses for human beings, but even we have morals.

“So what has all this got to do with your Prez?” She asks the question that’s going over and over in my own head.

“That’s what I gotta find out.”

Jessie arrives a half-hour later, taking in his surroundings as he gets off his bike and comes toward the cabin door. I open up the screen and let him inside.

“What the fuck is this place?” he asks, scouting the room and looking impressed.

“Mine,” I offer no further explanation, there ain’t time for one.

“You never fail to shock me, Brax Marshall.” He shakes his head and sniggers. “So tell me, what’s so important that I’ve had to drag my dick outta my old lady to be here?” Pulling his smokes from his cut pocket, he places one between his lips before tossing the pack across the table at me. I take one and slide the file over for him to read for himself. Then I watch his eyes widen, with the same shock mine did.

“Shit.” He throws the file back down, then rubs his hand over his spikey jaw.

“How much did you know about this?” his eyes flick over to Gracie, who up until now he hasn’t acknowledged. It’s not in Jessie’s nature to be rude, which is how I know he hasn’t made up his mind if she’s a threat or not yet.

“She didn’t even know her mom was an agent,” I answer his question for her. Jessie tips his head toward the door, and I place my hand on Gracie’s shoulder to let her know it’s okay before I follow him outside, internally cursing myself for touching her like that, especially in front of Jessie.

Jessie stands and stares out into the forest with a real troubled look on his face.

“Prez ain’t got anything to do with this,” he tells me, keeping his eyes focused on the trees.

“I want to believe that, Jessie, but—”

“But nothin’. It's fuckin’ kids, Brax,” he cuts me off. “Kids… ain't no way Prez is involved.”

“So why did I have orders to take the girl?” I want Prez to be innocent of this shit as much as Jessie does, but even he has to admit things ain’t looking good.

“You trust the girl?” Jessie asks, his eyes narrow as they look back toward the house.

“Yeah, I trust her,” I answer without hesitation. Jessie knows I don’t trust easily, so he won’t question me on it.

“I got an idea.” Jessie pulls out his cell. “You better go grab your cut,” he nods at me as he places his phone to his ear.

I leave him on the porch and go back inside. Gracie stands up from the table, looking relieved to see me, and I keep my face blank as I walk past her and pick my cut up from the back of the couch. I’m showing too much affection toward her, she’s starting to expect it. Sliding it on, I realize this is the first time she’s seen me wear it and just like I predicted, her eyes seem to suddenly lose their admiration of me.

“Brax?” I hear Jessie call me from outside, and I offer her a courteous nod of the head as I make my way back out to him.

“What’s the plan?” I ask. He takes a deep breath before he answers, whatever he’s got cooked up in that head of is, he already knows I’m not gonna like it.

“Me and you are gonna go pick up Bastards’ VP and give him The Vex treatment. We need to find out how much he knows.”

“And what about Gra… the girl.” I try holding off the concern in my tone, last thing I want is Jessie thinking I feel anything for her. “We can’t leave her up here alone, she’ll try and run,” I lie, knowing there’s no chance of her running, not now. But ain’t no way I’m leaving her here unprotected.

“The calvary are already on their way,” Jessie assures me, sliding his cell back inside his pocket. I really ain’t happy about the other brothers being around Gracie or my private space, but I’m all out of options. I ain’t about to let Jessie pick up the VP of our rivals alone, and causing someone pain right now is exactly what I need.

We discuss our plan of action, the Bastards’ VP lives above the strip club they run out at Pueblo. This early in the day there shouldn’t be too much security, but we’ll still take Screwy and Squealer with us. Jessie’s had no luck getting hold of Prez, or Troj who’s riding with him, and it’s getting me real anxious.

Maybe they’ve found Chop, right now they could be taking away my chance of ever getting justice. Or maybe Prez has gone off the radar because he knows what happened with the CIA back at the house. The last thing I want to do is accuse the man of this shit, but things are really stacking up against him.

The roar of bikes traveling up the dirt track brings Gracie to the door, and she looks on wearily as the loud noises rumble through the yard and fill up the empty space next to the car I borrowed from Jerry.

“What’s this?” She moves closer to me when the engines get cut and the boys start to dismount their bikes.

“They’re your babysitters,” I tell her, tipping my chin at Nyx and Grimm as they step up onto the porch.

“Don’t I get to babysit?” Squealer winks at Gracie, looking her over like she’s a fucking snack, and she darts a worried gaze in my direction.

“No, Squeal, you get to come rough up some Bastard,” Jessie tells him, causing a satisfied grin to lift his cheeks, as he looks at his twin brother, Screwy.

“You sure starting a war while Prez ain’t here is a good idea?” Nyx asks Jessie, before turning his attention to me. “And when were you gonna tell us that you got yourself a bitch… and a house?” Nyx’s eyes roll over Gracie and I notice how she blushes back at him. There ain’t no denying my brother’s a good lookin’ bastard, and she’s obviously noticed.

“Ain’t planning on starting no war, just need to get some answers,” Jessie assures him.

“Nyx’ll take care of you. He’s my brother,” I add, hoping it’ll make her feel less intimidated and stop her checking him the fuck out.

“And the other one,” her eyes move over to Grimm, who’s propped his shoulder against one of the porch beams and is staring at her. Sick fuck is probably sizing her up, figuring how he’d dispose of her if she became a problem.

“He won’t give you no trouble,” I assure her, she’ll be lucky if she gets two words out of the kid.

“Be careful.” She steps closer to me, her delicate fingers gripping around the front of my cut. I notice the look that spreads between the boys, and how Nyx rubs his finger over his top lip in an attempt to disguise his smirk. I don’t know what they’re finding more fucking comical. Her affection, or the fact she’s telling me to be careful. They all know what damage I’m capable of creating.

“And there it goes. Another man fucking down,” Squealer's voice interrupts the silence, his head shaking disappointedly as he gets back on his bike and starts the engine. I don’t waste my energy arguing with him. Instead, I nod a goodbye to Gracie, then at Nyx before getting on my own bike and following Jessie and the terror twins down the track, toward some answers to this mess.

Trinity’s is a seedy bar on the outskirts of Pueblo. We’re on Bastard territory now, and we all know the risks. In fact, the four of us thrive on that shit.

It’s not even 10AM when we park outside the bar, but we’re immediately greeted by two heavies who block the entrance. They ain’t patched in Bastards but they work for Clunk. They’re big in size, and one of them has a permanent scar through his eye that he got courtesy of Jessie a few years ago.

He cracks his knuckles when he notices Jessie getting off his bike, probably thinking today's his lucky day.

“I’m here to see Lector.” Jessie steps right up in his face, flaring his nostrils like he’s smelling something rotten.

“You are, are ya, he expecting ya?” The pair of them look at each other and laugh.

“He will be when you tell him that I’m here.” Jessie casually places a smoke between his lips and lights it up.

“And what makes you think he’s gonna wanna see you?”

“Well, I’m coming inside one of two ways, you can either let me pass, or I can work some symmetry on to that face of yours,” Jessie warns.

The guy steps forward like he’s ‘bout to do something, and I step up beside Jessie and give him a look that dares him to try. His buddy pulls him back and whispers something inside his ear that puts a scowl on his face, but also makes him disappear inside.

He returns a few minutes later looking pissed.

“Lose your weapons at the door, and your goons stay outside.”

“Nah-ah I go too,” I interrupt, ain’t no way Jessie’s getting all the fun out of this, besides we have no idea what’s on the other side of the door.

“Fine.” He shakes his head then points it at the twins, “But Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee stay out here.” Jessie snarls at the son of a bitch as he takes his gun out of his shoulder holster and passes it back to Screwy. I take the knife out of my belt, and hand it back to him too, keeping my eyes on the two men as we pass to get inside.

I manage to rein in the urge to headbutt one of the ugly fuckers as I follow Jessie into the dark seedy club.

The bar is empty, and stinks of cheap perfume and sex. Lector is sitting in one of the booths at the far side of the room, three bitches draped over him like he’s some kinda Roman god. When the one sucking him off lifts her head up from his lap to look at us, he forces her back down to work.

“What brings you here, business or pleasure?” he calls over to us in a snarky tone that makes me want to rip the limbs right off him.

“Business,” Jessie answers, swaggering his way across the room like he’s walking on his own turf. We don’t know how long we’ve got him alone for. If he’s got any sense, he’d have already put in a call and this place will soon be swarming with Bastards.

“Shame, the pleasure here’s the finest you’ll get for miles.” He squeezes the face of the girl that’s kissing his neck and forces her to look in our direction.

“You reckon you could show these Dirty Souls a good time, Savanna?” he asks, keeping his stare on us. The girl nods eagerly, and he bellows out a laugh.

“Lose the bitches, Lector. I guarantee what I’m here to talk about is something you’re gonna wanna keep between us.”

“I don’t know what stock you’re keeping in Manitou Springs, but we have trustworthy whores here in Pueblo… Ain't that right, darlin’?” Lifting the ponytail that’s bobbing on his lap, he raises the girl's head, causing his cock to slosh out of her mouth.

“Sure is,” she winks at me seductively before her tongue slowly licks from his shaft to his tip.

“It’s about your Prez and his more private connections,” Jessie says, and Lector’s face suddenly loses its confidence.

“Girls, go get ready for your shift,” he dismisses them quickly, and all three of them run their naked asses past us, the one who just had a mouthful of cock, strokes her hand over my face as she passes me and I grab at her wrist and snarl her a warning for it.

“You boys better take a seat,” he tells us, pointing his eyes at the space opposite him, and I lose my shit at the way he’s being so fuckin’ callous about the whole situation. Launching at Lector, I throw Jessie’s arm off me when he tries to stop me and grip the bastard by his neck, pushing him into the back of the booth he’s sitting in.

“Sick fuck,” I spit in his face, watching his eyes widen in fear as I slam his head back hard. “Before I take every single one of your kiddy fiddling fingers, I wanna know what you want with the girl.” Rage takes over my ability to be fucking cool.

“Whooo now, I ain't part of that shit, nor is the club,” Lector’s voice trembles back at me. “And I don’t know shit about no girl.” I loosen my grip slightly to give him a chance to explain.

“Then you better start telling us what you do know, or me and my boy here will call back your whores and have them watch us give you the ability to suck your own Johnson.” He takes in a gasp of air as I release him, and I cross my arms and wait for some answers.

“There’s been some… suspicions for a while about Prez’s activity.” Lector glances around the room sheepishly like he fears being heard. “He’s been keeping stuff from the boys, even from me. It’s all speculation though, we got no solid evidence.”

“So you and the others ain’t involved?” Jessie speaks up from behind me.

“I'm into a lot of sick shit, but not that. I got three kids of my own.” Lector turns up his nose like the thought disgusts him, it’s genuine, I can sense that much.

“So what, you planning a takedown?” I ask. Overturning a club President ain’t something that gets taken lightly. Lector ain't gonna talk freely about it, that shit’s too private to discuss with the enemy. So, I decide a little encouragement is needed. I drop down and take the knife out my boot, then hold it against his jugular.

“Brax,” a warning comes from Jessie.

“I asked you a question, the polite thing to do is answer.” I push the tip of the blade deeper into his flesh so it almost pierces his skin.

“I can’t… we haven’t…” I nick the skin a whisker away from his artery and blood trickles over his throat, coating my blade.

“Th…th…that’s the plan, I’ve spoken to a couple of the guys that I trust, we’re just waitin’ for him to slip up.” Lector sucks in a worried breath and Jessie puts his hand on my shoulder, urging me to back down.

“Then I think it’s time you and I made a truce.” Jessie slides into the seat opposite him and looks at him darkly. I stare between the two of them, not quite understanding what the fuck I’m hearing.

“Listen, Jessie, I admire your optimism…” Lector presses his hand against the slit I've made in his skin, and checks the damage on his fingers. It's only a fucking scratch, he’ll need a band-aid not fucking stitches. “…but a truce? It don’t matter who's wearing the Prez badge, the Souls and the Bastards ain’t allies. Why after all these years would my club trust yours?”

“Because,” Jessie’s lips pull into a smile, “We got your evidence.”

There’s a long silence while the guy's brain works. He’s VP of the club, and with his president out of the picture, he’s the man most lightly to take his place. He could make things a lot easier on himself if he didn’t have an enemy waiting to strike on him while the club are most vulnerable.

“And what do you get?” the snakey prick asks, suddenly looking like the cat that just got the cream.

“When you get voted Prez, my girl doesn’t have to look over her shoulder no more.” Jessie tenses his fists. “And you stop trying to provoke shit in Manitou Springs. There’s plenty of other towns for you to trade your shit,” Jessie lays it out for him, and the guy nods back like it’s a fair enough request.

“And what about your Prez? This is important shit for him to be putting on his VP’s head.”

“You let me worry about my Prez, you just keep yours in check until we get you everything you need to take him down. And when that happens, Lector, you're handing him over to us. Me and Prez got some shit to air out with him.”

“What, no blood?” Squealer looks disappointed when we step back outside.

“Nope,” Jessie says, staring at the guy with the scar, as he gets back on his bike.

“So?” Squealer hands us back our weapons and presses for more.

“We got a truce,” Jessie tells him.

“A truce?” The look on Squealer's face is muddled somewhere between shock and outrage. “With Bastard scum?”

“Just until this mess is sorted,” Jessie quickly puts his mind at ease.

“And then what?” Squeal asks, rolling the toothpick that he’s chewing on between his teeth.

“Then, we go back to hating them,” Jessie stares at the guy at the door as he takes his handlebars and starts up his bike.