Radge by Esther E. Schmidt
CHAPTER TWO
– RAMSEY –
“We’re fucking lucky they were practically thrown into our lap, brother,” Brodie says and smacks my back.
I mindlessly nod. There’s nothing in this fucked-up situation where I feel lucky or have it in me to so much as smile. Those mafia assholes murdered my father and a few of my club brothers for no good reason at all.
We were ambushed and betrayed by a business partner my father worked with for decades. The meeting yesterday was one like no other where McVay and his men brought us the shipment of weapons for transport.
Except, this time when they turned to hand over the shipment, a bullet suddenly hit my father between the eyes and their hands were filled with weapons, spitting bullets the next second without warning. Nothing about this was justified or so much as a hint of a reason why the fuck they were killing us on sight.
And talking about luck…we were damn lucky that night to lose only my father and four other brothers. Five of us lost forever while we were barely able to take out three of them. Well, four but the last one died after hours of torture so we could squeeze all the information out of the fucker before we send him straight to hell.
And the information he gave? Utter bullshit accusations. Lies about how my father raped a sixteen-year-old girl who was set to marry some fucker from another mafia family. Since the girl was under the protection of McVay, he was the one who needed to end the one responsible.
I still don’t get why the fucker didn’t reach out and demand answers, give us a chance to tell him someone is fucking framing us. But no. It appears decades of trust is blown to shit over one girl’s rambling lies.
My hand tightens around the glass and I bring it to my mouth, throwing the whiskey back in one go. Placing the glass back on the counter, I grab my knife and push away from the bar. The whiskey in my belly is enough to dull some of my senses, at least enough to torture a woman.
Normally I just stick to men and use other ways to punish women if need be but in this case? Involving the straight up murder of my father? I need to feel innocent blood stick to my fingers to soothe the monster called revenge.
From the corner of my eye, I see Glenn strolling down the hall. Without thinking I pull my hand back and let the knife slice through the air until it lodges itself into the wood of the door Glen was about to pass. The fucker gulps and freezes in place, the knife a few inches from his face.
He doesn’t say one damn word and neither does Brodie who is flanking me. The fucker should be thankful he isn’t in the ground. The information we pulled from the mafia guy we tortured was something Glenn knew too.
He heard about the girl being raped because his mother is friends with the chick’s mother. And how one of our own brothers doesn’t share such a detail to his club brothers is beyond me. Even if we didn’t know she pointed out my father as the guilty one.
If my father knew the girl was raped, he would have reached out to McVay. He would have offered his help because we know the girl is a daughter of one of his capos. And that right there? That might have prevented the killings.
Or at least made a fucking difference but I guess now we’ll never know. And it’s this fucker’s fault. I should have taken his fucking cut in church earlier today but it was a club decision to keep him around since we lost enough brothers.
“Get the fuck out of my sight,” I snarl when I get close enough to rip the knife out of the wood.
Yes, I’m overreacting but I don’t have anyone else around me to put the blame on and unleash my fury so he has to take my frustrations and anger. It will teach him to share shit even if he thinks it’s unimportant. The club fucking decides what’s important or not.
“Sorry, Prez,” Glenn mutters and quickly slinks away.
I fucking hate him, but I hate him calling me Prez more. My father has been my president for decades and I’ve been his VP for the last four years. And as of this morning, I had to take the gavel from his cold dead hands. Something I didn’t see coming. Something none of us saw fucking coming.
Anger flows freely through my veins as I stomp down the stairs and get to the basement where we have a few rooms to keep shit in. Things, people against their will, who cares about technicalities?
Swinging the door open, I let my gaze land on the floor where the two women are slumped against one another. Both of them are still knocked out cold. I put my boot on the young chick and give a tiny kick to push her off her mother.
She slumps back, legs falling open, exposing her left leg through the large slit in her emerald dress. On the inside of her upper thigh, I notice two long jagged scars before they’re taken from my sight as she groans and moves to sit up.
One of her hands go to her head, the other reaches for her shoes as she pulls off one and then the other. Right when I wonder why the fuck she would take her shoes off while she’s coming to her senses is when she lunges right at me.
A bare foot is planted in the middle of my chest, knocking me back. I deflect her fist and have to fucking brace myself to keep deflecting her attempts to strike where it hurts. It’s not in me to fight a damn woman but if she keeps this up, I will knock her the fuck out.
“Stop or I’ll slice her throat,” Brodie states in a cold, hard voice.
The chick instantly stops but keeps her legs braced and her fists in the air, ready to strike as she assesses her surroundings. Her gaze keeps bouncing between Brodie and me until she lowers her hands.
“Leave my mother alone,” she hisses and takes a menacing step forward.
“Feisty little thing, isn’t she?” Brodie remarks. “Stupid, but feisty nonetheless.”
“Stupid would be you underestimating me, or me attacking you while risking my mother’s life.”
“Shut your cockhole,” I snap, earning me her fury and distaste.
There clearly is no fear in any cell of her body, such a stark contradiction to her outer appearance with the gown, discarded high heels, and her red hair pulled back into a tight bun. Her gaze slides to her mother and concern pushes everything out of her mind as she falls to her knees.
“Mom, mom.” Her fingers slide over the inside of her mother’s wrist.
Brodie steps away from them and comes to stand beside me.
The woman’s bright blue eyes hit mine. “She needs a hospital.”
I can’t help but snicker at her ignorance. “I don’t care if she lives or dies now, or tomorrow: the both of you won’t live to see next week.”
Again, she narrows her eyes and gives me fury instead of fear or shock. “Killing the both of us might give some sense of justified retaliation, it is however false in the foundation of your twisted truth.”
“We don’t care about your riddles,” Brodie sneers and stalks to the corner to grab some rope.
Her gaze slides to my leather cut. Taking in the patches, she grinds her teeth as Brodie stalks toward her. She’s on her feet, jumping over her mother’s body to get out of my VP’s way.
Holding her hands palms up she directs her attention to me. “I have a deal for you and in return I want to ensure my mother’s safety. You have to drop her off at the hospital.”
Brodie is already shaking his head and I am a little intrigued but the fact is, “You have nothing I want. And if you’re thinking of offering your cunt? Nothing special about it and if I wanted it, I’d have my cock splitting you in half already.”
She takes a menacing step toward me and the anger in her voice is vivid when she starts to throw out details this chick isn’t supposed to know. “Your father was Lynch McKean, and I’m very sorry for your loss. His old lady, your mother, Isla was killed in a drive by shooting right here in front of this clubhouse. Three bullets in the chest, one in the head. Everyone thought it was a rival MC, rumors you guys spread yourself because it was the Mexican cartel instead. Payback for interfering with a drug deal. A mistake because one of their own fucked up. And you spread the rumors of the rival MC so your charter along with others could wipe out the cartel yourselves without interruption. You’re Ramsey McKean, otherwise known as Ram to those who have been in the ring with you. A nickname you’ve earned because you like to ram everyone in the head, preferably by using your own. Or so I’ve been told. Thirty-one years old and now the president of the VII Knights MC, Wyoming charter. That’s where I am, right? Your clubhouse?”
“How did you know about the bullet count and that it happened here?” I snarl, not something many people know what happened to my mother.
A drive by shooting, yes. But the number of bullets, where the impact was, or where it happened? Not to mention the fucking Mexican cartel screwing up and dragging my mother into something we didn’t even have a part in? Fuck, no. Not to mention my nickname, age, and how I fight.
“What else do you know?” I question.
“Prez,” Brodie whisper hisses but I shoot him a glare to silence any further actions.
“Everything,” she simply says and points at her mother. “You don’t need my mother for payback. Look at her, you’ve already got what you wanted. She hit her head when you guys blasted the gate. Please. Get her help and I will tell you who was truly responsible for your father’s death.”
I tilt my head and take her in. The red hair, close to more of an orange glow, the dress, the temper, along with the fighting skills, nothing makes sense. And the things she just mentioned? It’s the complete package that puts me on edge.
“Nope, not interested. You know–” I rub my fingers along my jaw. “You almost had me intrigued with those details you mentioned. But the last part about my father’s death made your credibility take a nosedive. Besides, I’m in charge and won’t ever take orders, or deals for that matter, from a chick.” I swing my gaze to Brodie. “Let’s hang her from the ceiling and grab the blowtorch while you’re at it. I’m thinking we’ll start with putting a little heat under those tiny feet, how does that sound?”
“Music to my ears, Prez. I’m always up for a little barbeque. Nothing like the fresh scent of burned meat to get me through the day.” Brodie chuckles and steps toward the chick.
She moves so fucking fast, all I see is a blur moving forward and Brodie doubling over–hitting the concrete knees first the next instant–while he groans and falls to the side, cupping his balls.
“All yours, Prez,” he wheezes. “Gimme two minutes and I’ll back you up.”
My head falls back and laughter rips out. “Fuck, you got him good.” I give a shake and add in a serious tone, “You’re still gonna dangle from the ceiling, sugar.”
Her eyes are on me and she takes a menacing step forward. Brodie silently rolls to the side and I watch how he gets to his feet behind her while I mockingly beckon my fingers at her, inviting her to give me all she’s got.
At the same time Brodie lunges forward, that’s when she jumps in the air and kicks out with both feet, a fucking war cry filling the air along with it. Impressive but the little ninja shit earns herself a punch to the cunt before she’s able to land on her feet. Well, it’s more like a graze because it was a reflex while I fucking hesitated at the same damn time. And I never hesitate in a damn fight.
It shocks the shit out of both of us and she takes the opportunity to grab two fistfuls of my leather cut and says, “Hang me from the ceiling, burn my fucking feet, slice my damn throat but you will take my mother to the hospital. And I will throw in the name who is responsible for this whole fucking betrayal for the sake of justice. Not just for your father who didn’t deserve what happened, but also for my friend Dara. Even if I’m angry and disappointed she didn’t come to me with the truth in the first place so all of this could have been prevented. And I’m fucking pissed at my father for raising me like his son and in the end discarding me like the daughter my mother raised me to be. Fucking believing the enemy over his own damn daughter. All men are pigs. Pigs and a dirty ball of testosterone. And what the fuck with that almost punch to my pussy, you creep? Stick to normal torture methods or do you need me to give you some hints and tips for that too?”
I give a slight nod for Brodie to proceed and he injects her with a sedative. Her eyes go wide when she feels the needle enter her arm and she tries to defend herself but I have both her wrists in hand, spinning her around to cage her in between my body and the wall, rendering her totally useless as she slips into oblivion.
“Gotta admit, she’s fucking sexy with that ass and tits, moving the way she does,” Brodie remarks as we tie her wrists and hoist her up to hang her from the ceiling.
“She’s a chunk of meat and bones which we will use to make someone suffer for what he did to us,” I rumble in a dark growl, getting annoyed by his remarks.
Not just his remark but this whole situation, it darkens my mood and it already was fucking black with my father being murdered. Add the woman who landed in our lap, throwing oil on a fire that’s already been lit, and is causing a fucking distraction to boot.
“All right, grumpy. Doesn’t mean I can’t cop a feel.” Brodie’s hands raise toward her tits and I see red.
Grabbing his cut, I pull him close to tower over him and growl, “Keep your hands off.”
“Fuck, Ram,” he grunts and holds his hands palms up. “No need to get your nuts in a knot, I was just kidding.”
I push him away. “The second club business is done you have your cock in hand running after any available wet pussy to fill. It ain’t happening when we handle this shit, get me?”
“Sorry, Prez,” he mutters and gives a shake of his head. “Like I said, I was just kidding. Fucking bad timing, I know. Disrespectful. Your father. You. Hell…us. How we went from brothers to you taking the gavel and me having your back as the VP. It should have been us taking over the club years from now, man. The two of us should have been fucking around some more instead of having to torture bitches in retaliation for the loss of a great man along with a few brothers. Fuck.”
I rub the back of my neck. “Yeah, brother.” Releasing a deep sigh, I throw out what’s been bugging me ever since the girl started to rattle her mouth. “What do you think of this chick? And I’m not talking about her banging body.”
“She knows too much,” he simply says, and he’s right.
“My father always said he respected the fuck out of McVay. He mentioned his daughter a few times to me. The thing that stuck by me was how my father said that if he would have had a daughter instead of a son, he would have raised her the way McVay raised his daughter. And she just mentioned something similar. She was fucking pissed at her father for raising her like his son and in the end discarding her like the daughter her mother raised her to be. How he believed the enemy over his own damn daughter. She’s mentioned more than once she’d give me the name of the one responsible for my father’s death, and then we have the fact she stormed out of the house, pissed as hell, and straight into our awaiting arms.”
Brodie’s head bobs slowly. “You’re right. We’ve been too distracted by everything to take notice.”
I lift my chin in the direction of McVay’s wife. “Check how she’s doing. Call a prospect and have him drop her off at a hospital miles away from here. Be sure to take off any jewelry and shit that might identify her.”
“Smart, Prez,” Brodie rumbles as he grabs his phone and puts it to his ear. “Adler, take one of the SUVs and meet me out back, I have a job for you.” He hangs up and squats down next to the woman who is still out cold. “She’s still breathing but that’s it. Might have a brain injury. Fuck. Maybe she’s in a coma.”
“All Meribeth asked was for her mother to be taken to the hospital and that’s what we’re doing. Then we’ll squeeze all the info from her and go from there. And make sure that prospect sticks around at the hospital so we can check for updates.” I grab my knife and let the blade slide between the fabric of her dress and her bare leg. “Maybe we should tape a little video message for McVay, give the fucker a preview of what’s to come.”
Brodie chuckles and lifts McVay’s wife into his arms and heads out the door. I stalk to the tiny cabinet where Brodie pulled the syringe from. There’s another syringe with a dose to wake her up from the slumber we put her in.
I jab the needle into her skin and shoot her up, throwing the syringe on the floor. Stepping back, I wait for her to wake up. It doesn’t take long for her to gasp and flash her eyes wide open. Yanking at her restraints she suddenly goes completely slack.
Those bright blue eyes are locked on me with a hard stare. Some of her long hair has fallen out of the tight bun and is framing her face, adding to the wildness she’s shown in her character. The red with a bright orange glow suits her perfectly.
There aren’t many women who intrigue me, other than liking them for as long it takes to get myself off. It’s all I ever indulge in; easy, unattached, club pussy. Less distraction, and no fucking feelings because women are always about feelings, emotions, and shit.
But this one? No panic in a situation where she knows torture and death awaits? Her backbone is clearly made from steel and my cock hardens at the thought of breaking her. Fuck making a deal with her, I’ll get the information out of her one way or another and then deliver her in pieces on her father’s doorstep.
I might as well call off the prospect delivering her mother to the hospital but then again, it’s also nice to fuck around with people and patching the woman up so I can hurt her later is also a nice touch if you ask me. Especially when my end goal is to wipe out the whole McVay family. And the woman in front of me is a nice start.
Letting the knife travel between her legs, I let my eyes stay fixed on her face. There’s no emotion whatsoever. But when I lift a finger and place it on her breastbone, slowly feathering down between her tits her eyes are suddenly wide as fuck, nipples poking through the thin fabric of her dress.
I have to say, the delicate touch is like there’s electricity dancing between us. I have no clue how it’s even possible, but damn…it’s fucking nice. I put the knife back into its sheath to free my hands and cup both her lush tits.
“Now this is a whole new kind of torture I seemed to have saved just for you,” I rumble in a husky tone. “The first one, seeing this will be your first time. Right? You mafia folks respecting the whole honorable, virgin thing. I’m thinking this will be a nice start seeing the knife doesn’t impress you much. My hands sliding over your skin, though? My touch lights up your body and it terrifies you, doesn’t it? Like what you’re not supposed to, huh? Want me to eat your sweet pussy? Make you come all over my tongue?”
Fire is practically shooting out of her eyes and I love riling her up just as much as watching how my touch affected her body. Because I clearly saw the lust and desire glazing her over while her nipples pebbled against the fabric of her dress.
“Shut your dirty mouth and get your filthy paws away from me,” she seethes and I have to move fast to grab her chin and force her head into another direction as she tries to spit in my face.
“Don’t do it again or I’ll tape your fucking mouth shut,” I snarl. “If you play nice, I’ll make it good for you.”
Her eyes and attention aren’t on me or the things I just said and what’s about to happen. Nope, it’s on the floor behind me. This damn woman. No fear for her own life.
My suspicion is correct when she says, “What the hell did you do with my mother?”
I click my tongue. “Now, now, babe. Your real concern should be: what the hell am I going to do with you?”
