Bjorn: Teutonic Knights MC (25 page)

“It’s empty!” Lolly called as the men began to return to the main room.

“Those fucking Saracens!” Ironside snarled. While the Knights had been setting the Saracens up, the Saracens had taken advantage of the trap to spring one of their own. The Knights didn’t kill women, but for this, he was going to make an exception. Honey, or whoever the mole ultimately turned out to be, was going to
die.

The women were herded out of the vans and marched into the courtyard of a motel. It wasn’t the Ritz-Carlton, but it wasn’t as big a shithole as the motel they rescued Melissa from. The motel was built in a square so there was a set of rooms surrounding and overlooked a large grassy area with a pool in the center.

“What did he mean when he said he was going to initiate us?” Ava asked.

“It means we’re going to be raped,” Peyton replied. Ava went pale. “You remember those women we brought in? That’s what we have to look forward to.”

“I’m going to kill that fucking Honey,” Ava sneered. “She was the mole the whole time she was accusing you, the fucking bitch.”

“You’re going to have to wait your turn behind me.”

The women were clustered together and Andrew turned, Honey sauntering up to his side. “Welcome to your new home,” he began with a big smile. With so much fresh pussy to initiate, he was almost giddy with excitement. “We’ve cleared the motel, so there’s no help here. Feel free to scream all you want. In fact, please do.” He paused, enjoying the fear he saw in their eyes, even Peyton’s. He was especially looking forward to initiating her. “Over the next few days we’re going to show you what we do people who try to fuck us. You’re going to replace the women the Knights took from us, but to make sure you understand your place in life, we’re going to initiate you into the Saracens first.”

“Rape us, you mean,” Peyton shouted. “Rape us like the limp-dicked fuckers you are! It’s the only way you can get laid!”

Andrew smiled. “Ah, Peyton. It’s because of Peyton you’re all here.”

“Fuck you!” Ava snarled. “It’s because of
Honey
we’re all here. Watch your back, bitch.”

“Start with Peyton,” Honey suggested. “Peyton and Ava.”

“Which one is Ava?”

“The one who threatened me.”

He smiled. “Ava will do, but I want Peyton to watch first. I want her to watch and know she’s the one who caused all this when she talked the Knights into taking out girls. Ava’s one. Who next, Peyton? I told you that you had to choose.”

“I told you. Honey.”

Andrew smiled. “You won’t choose?” He looked to Honey. “Who’s her best friend?”

Honey smiled. “Sloane or Blaire.”

“Which one?” Peyton refused to say anything and Andrew sighed dramatically. “Alphabetical it is then. Ava then Blaire.” He smiled. “In fact I like that idea,” he said, turning to Honey. “Write everyone’s names down in alphabetical order. That way everyone will know when it’s their turn.”

Honey smiled, reveling in the power she felt. “Don’t start without me,” she purred before giving him a long, lusty, kiss then hurried away to find paper and pen.

“You better answer that,” Peyton sneered when Andrew’s phone began to ring. “You’ll probably want to find out how many men you lost.”

Andrew glared at her, but pulled his phone out. “Moore. Go.”

Peyton smiled as Andrew’s face clouded over. “Get to the motel,” he snarled then dropped his phone back into his pocket.

“How many?” Peyton smiled.

“None of your fucking business!”

“That many, huh? Didn’t get the guns either, did you?” She tsk-ed. “And to think, I warned you but you didn’t listen.”

Andrew took three steps toward Peyton and slapped her hard across the face. “You fucking bitch. I should kill you right now,” he snarled, grabbing her hair and jerking her head back.

“Go ahead,” she hissed, stoking her anger so she wouldn’t cry. “At least then I wouldn’t have to feel you touching me again.”

Andrew gave her head a jerk then threw her to the side. “I’m going to fucking break you. Five men? You’d probably
enjoy
being fucked by five men. Everyone is going to have a turn with you, Peyton. Everyone…and we’re not going to be gentle. We’ll see how much sass you have after that.”

She forced herself to smile, her facing aching with the burn from his slap. “I’m going to castrate you myself, you fucker.”

He smiled, his cock throbbing in excitement. He pulled his knife sheath off his belt and tossed it to the ground at her feet. “There’s your chance. Pick it up.”

She thought about going for it but knew she would be cut down on a hail of gunfire before she could even clear the knife. She kicked the knife back to him. “Offer again, when we’re alone.”

Honey returned and compared her list to the women in front of her to make sure she didn’t miss anyone, then handed it to Andrew. He snatched the paper from her. “What’s wrong, Babe?”

“There were no fucking guns! We lost three brothers, and there were
no fucking guns
!”

“But Whiteshirt said—”

“I don’t give a flying
fuck
what Whiteshirt said! After we got them stopped, Juice saw them open the van and it was fucking
empty
! Do you understand what I’m saying.
Empty
! You were played!”

Honey looked at the women standing in front of them and swallowed hard as Peyton smiled and slowly gave her the finger.

“Whiteshirt, send everyone you can spare to the clubhouse right now,” Ironside said softly.

“What’s happened?” Whiteshirt asked, detecting the stress in his friend’s voice.

“The Saracens have been here. They killed Tinker and, I’m guessing, took the women.”

“What?” he cried. “The place is empty?”

“As a dead man’s eyes.”

Ironside listened as Whiteshirt shouted orders. “Everyone will be there in twenty minutes except Snap, Nickel and Club.”

“Make it sooner if you can.” Next he dialed Peyton’s number. He knew it was a long shot, but he had to try. After it rang several times he heard her phone and followed the sound to his desk, the place she often left her purse when she was in the clubhouse.

He ended the call without a word. “Jinx! Come with me.”

He and Jinx sat down at the computer that recorded all the closed circuit television cameras mounted around the Knights compound. They watched the feeds from the various cameras, gritting their teeth as three vans rolled up to the compound gate forty minutes after they left. The driver of the first van typed on the keypad then moved forward, the other two vans following close behind.

They switched to a longer view and watched the vans pull to a stop in front of the clubhouse door. A moment later Andrew swaggered into the clubhouse and they watched as Tinker was gunned down.

“Those fuckers,” Jinx growled. “Tinker never had a chance.”

“Back that up,” Ironside said, pointing to Honey. Jinx backed the video then ran it again. “That bitch.”

After Tinker had been shot, all the women, save Honey, were clustered together, Honey standing just enough apart from the group to not be in the direct line of fire. They ran it back again, farther this time, and watched Honey. She sauntered into the main room, and though it was hard to tell from the video, the way she moved made is seem she was very pleased with herself. They let the tape run and as the Saracens entered the clubhouse, everyone except Honey seemed surprised.

“It’s Honey,” Jinx said softly.

“Yeah,” Ironside agreed as Tinker went down again. They let the tape play. There was no audio so they couldn’t hear was being said, but they could tell from the body language Andrew was feeling good about himself and everyone else, with the exception of Honey and the other Saracens, was nervous and afraid. They let the feed play until Andrew looked at the camera then pointed, the picture going dark a moment after a Saracen pointed his gun at the camera.

They switched back to the external view of the front of the clubhouse. It took several minutes, but they finally saw the women being hustled out and loaded into the vans, Honey included. Seeing Honey being put into the van like all other women gave him pause, but Ironside remembered how relaxed she appeared as the Saracens came in. No, she was their mole, but the Saracens didn’t want the women to know, perhaps wanting to see what other information she could glean or to have her keep an eye on the rest of the women.

***

By the time the rest of the Saracens arrived at the motel, Andrew was in a towering rage. He’d gotten his pound of flesh in the girls, but it wasn’t enough. The fucking Knights had fucked them at every turn. The
only
thing that had gone right for them was hitting their fuck studio, and even that had only worked two out of three times. The cartel was crawling up his ass over payment, and every time he thought he had Ironside’s cock in a vise, he somehow managed to turn it against him and squeeze his dick instead.

“Sixteen? We’re down to
sixteen
fucking brothers?” Andrew raged.

“That’s all that’s left,” Horse said solemnly. He was beginning to have doubt about Andrew. In the last two months, twenty-eight brothers had been killed with another six injured. He knew they’d hurt the Knights, but he wasn’t sure they’d hurt them as much as they’d been hurt themselves.

“Where’s Pogo?”

“He was killed this morning when they tried to take the van. They got made and tried to take it on their own. We couldn’t get there in time to help.”

“Fuck!” Andrew yelled. “I told him to not do something stupid! Goddamn him!”

“What are we going to do?”

Andrew stood panting, trying to get control of his anger. “We’re going to initiate some bitches, that’s what we’re going to do. We have something the Knights want, their old ladies, and I’m going to use that.” He smiled, but his eyes were hard. “Get everyone together. We’ll do them two at a time.”

***

“It’s Honey,” Ironside said, meeting Whiteshirt and the rest of the Knights at the door. “I watched the security video and I’d bet my ass she let the Saracens in.”

“That bitch. I’ll kill her.”

“I’ll let you. Gear up. We’re pulling out.”

“Do you know where they are?”

“No, but we’re going to take this fucking city apart until we find them, starting with the Saracens’ clubhouse.”

Three minutes after Whiteshirt arrived, they were leaving again, armed to the teeth with death in their eyes.

They arrived at the back of the Saracens’ compound and dismounted. If they’d replaced their van, Ironside would have simply crashed the gate, but with just bikes, they had to be a little subtler. They parked their bikes in the bar that backed up to the Saracens’ lot and walked to the fence. It took only moments to cut through the wire and he and Whiteshirt held the chain link back so the rest of the Knights could squeeze through. If anyone was inside and watching, they were going to be seen, but he didn’t care. This was going to be nothing but a down and dirty cock fight, and they were going to shove theirs right up the Saracens collective asses.

The Saracens’ clubhouse was a tiny building from the fifties and they moved quickly across the parking lot before sliding along the side of the building. They paused at the front corner and Ironside held up three fingers, folding them down one at a time into a fist before he burst around the corner. He and Whiteshirt had to ram their shoulders into the door twice before it began to give, their third charge breaking the door. The twenty Knights flowed into the clubhouse, but it was empty.

“Where the fuck is everyone?” Jinx asked.

“Search the place,” Whiteshirt ordered as he moved deeper into the clubhouse. What they were doing was violating one of the basic rules the Saracens and Knights had lived by for years. You don’t hit members in their home, and you don’t attack the other club’s clubhouse, but the Saracens had started down this path, so they were going to reap what they sowed.