Jerry's Passion: Insurgents Motorcycle Club (Insurgents MC Romance Book 6) (16 page)

J
erry hid in
the shadows of the alley, watching as three men approached. It was a dark, moonless night, and pinpricks of light pierced through the sky’s black canopy. The hour was late, and the town’s lights ebbed to a mere glimmer. Twenty Insurgents manned their posts, waiting for the sign from their president to move in and take care of business. The three men stopped at the entrance, glanced around, and slowly walked into the alley, the echo of their footsteps slicing through the stillness of the air. From where he’d positioned himself, Jerry could see the Skull Crushers logo on the backs of their jackets, and his fists instinctively tightened. One of the Skull Crushers took out a cigarette and lit it, the glow from its tip making his face appear ghoulish.

“She’s fucking late,” one of them said.

“I got a bad feel ‘bout this.” The member blew out smoke.

“You’re just fuckin’ jumpy ‘cause I interrupted you when you were bangin’ that slut at the trailer park. You can have at her when you get back. She’ll be waiting for you. These sluts love biker cock.” The tallest member laughed, shaking his head.

Jerry’s insides clenched. He hoped to hell he wasn’t talking about his sister, but a part of him knew he was. It took all his will to stand motionless, listening to them, and not rushing over and bashing their heads in. He had to be patient; there’d be plenty of time for him to beat the shit outta the dude.

Light, hurried footsteps made the three bikers retreat into the shadows, hugging brick walls with their backs. A dark-haired woman in her early thirties entered the alley, her head moving from side to side as if looking for someone. The tallest Skull Crushers member came out of the darkness. From the way she jumped, Jerry knew Emma had been startled. He was the closest to her, hidden in the doorway of a garage. She did a good job with her makeup, and all the acne and angry sores she’d placed on her face, arms, and neck, made her look like a major meth user. He wondered if she’d transformed her teeth too. Emma actually had all her teeth capped a couple of years after she’d stopped using. The crystal had rotted and discolored them, so Danny had coughed up thousands of dollars to fix them up. Jerry knew Emma would be livid if she found out Danny had shared that fact with his brothers.

“You alone?” the tall biker asked.

Emma turned and twisted, appearing nervous and anxious as she nodded. Jerry smiled. She was playing the part perfectly.

“You got the money?” As he spoke, his two comrades came out of the shadows.

With shaking hands, she took out the money from the pocket of her hoodie. “You got the crank?”

“Yeah. First the money.”

She handed the tall member a wad of bills. He took out his Kill Light—a large industrial flashlight, favored weapon among outlaws—and switched it on as he counted the money. “All here,” he said, pocketing the cash. He stared at her. “You want it bad, don’t you?”

Nodding, Emma ran her hands up and down her arms, her body shaking.

“How bad?” he asked, taking a few steps closer to her.

“Bad enough to fuck and blow us, bitch?” one member said. Jerry recognized him as the one he’d seen at the trailer park the week before.

“What?” Emma’s voice trembled.

She’s good at this.
Jerry smiled, aching to bash the skulls of the three assholes who were only a few feet away from him.

“You heard us.” The taller one reached out to touch her, but she jumped back.

“Leave me the fuck alone. You got your money, now you owe me what I came for. Do you even have it?”

“Show it to her, Gamble.” The tall guy stepped closer to her as a shorter member took out a baggie of clear, chunky crystals. “See, we got your stuff. You just need to give us what we want and you can be high in no time.” He grabbed her arm, yanking her to him.

Emma twisted out of his grasp, her steel-toed boot kicking him in the shin. “Fuck!” He bent down and rubbed his leg. “You fuckin’ bitch. I’m gonna beat your ass.” Emma ran out of his reach, and the two other men lurched toward her. “Get the bitch,” the tall member said.

“The only ones getting the shit beaten outta them are you sorry motherfuckers.” Banger stepped out from the shadows, his deep baritone voice sizzling with danger. The three men stopped, their postures stiffening. Banger lightly pushed Emma away. “You go on now. You did good.” Emma’s clacking heels on the pavement cracked the mounting tension.

“Who the fuck are you, old man?” the tall guy said as he eyed Banger. The three Skull Crushers looked to be in their early twenties.

“I’m the one who’s gonna teach you fuckin’ punks respect. You don’t fuckin’ deal in Insurgents’ territory.”

The three men circled Banger. “The shit you’re spewing was for the old days. Times have changed. The Skull Crushers don’t give a shit what the Insurgents think. We’ll do what the fuck we want.” He spat at the ground, narrowly missing Banger’s boot. Jerry gritted his teeth, ready to leap out to protect his president if one of the fuckers laid a finger on him.

Banger looked at where the punk spit then at him. “Problem is you fuckers don’t know shit about the brotherhood. Respect never goes out of style, and I’m about to show you what happens when you don’t give it.” He took a step and Jerry held his breath, already in his fighting stance.

“And you’re gonna do that all by yourself, asshole?” They laughed.

“I could, but I don’t wanna have all the fun. I brought along some brothers.” With a wave of his hand, twenty men stepped out of the shadows and formed a circle around the three Skull Crushers.

Jerry smiled when he saw the fear creep into their eyes, his hands clenched into fists just itching to be used.

“It’s time to teach you young boys some respect,” Banger said before his fist landed in the tall man’s gut. He groaned and fell to his knees. In one fell swoop, the Insurgents were on them, showing no mercy. For ten minutes, the lives of the three Skull Crushers were pummeled, kicked, and stabbed out of them… until they were no more.

Jerry wiped a bloodied knife on his black skull bandanna, stuffing the blade in his boot and the kerchief in his cut’s inside pocket. Banger came up to him. “We’re taking the bodies to the hole.”

“I thought you wanted me to make sure nothing was left.”

“Bear is gonna stick with the prospects and make sure the bleach and peroxide wipe out all traces. I need you back at the hole. You’re pretty handy with a chainsaw.” Jerry chuckled, and Banger clapped his hand on his shoulder then walked away.

Puck, Johnnie, and Blade silently stood back, holding large containers of both bleach and peroxide. Jerry nodded to them and walked to the end of the alley, then jumped into Axe’s SUV. No one rode their Harleys because the noise of their cams would’ve sounded like a thunderstorm. They preferred to operate in the stillness of inky black nights, like all outlaw MCs did.

Rock, Bruiser, Axe, Throttle, Rags, and Jax threw the battered bodies of the former Skull Crushers MC on the floor of the hole. The Insurgents had constructed it many years before, a concrete room built under the barn on their property. It was where people who messed with them met painful deaths, and where bodies were dismembered to make burial, cremation, and annihilation easier.

Against the thick walls, steel tables decked out with knives of varying sizes and various tools of torture lined the room. Above some of the tables, chainsaws hung on hooks mounted on the walls. A pulley suspended above a steel beam was used for various forms of “persuasion.”

“Give me their wallets,” Banger said gruffly. “I’m gonna send them as a reminder to their fucking president not to fuck around in Insurgents’ territory. I should send him their hands, but it gets to be too damned messy.” The brothers in the room chuckled along with their president. Banger nodded at Jerry. “You know what to do.” Holding the bloodstained wallets, he walked out with Hawk, closing the steel door behind them.

Jerry took down a chainsaw, placed it between his legs, and pulled on the starter rope a couple times. The saw jumped to life, and the whirring buzz bounced off the walls. Dropping to his knees, he began the arduous task of cutting up a human body. Rock and Throttle each grabbed a chainsaw, and soon the hole was filled with the roar of the spinning saw blades as they cut through fibrous tissue, fat, and bone, splattering blood against the gray walls and floor. Once the job was done, all the brothers in the room picked up the body parts and dumped them in a large machine against the back wall of a small room attached to the hole. The room resembled a large walk-in closet. The machine looked like an enormous pressure cooker, and the boiling lye would dissolve the bodies, leaving the liquefied remains which could be poured down a drain. A perforated basket caught any small bone fragments that remained, which were crushed into a fine, white powder and scattered. The Insurgents preferred to keep the law out of their club business, so lye was the preferred choice for disposing bodies. It was easily purchased without any questions asked, whereas strong acids were closely monitored due to their use in bomb-making.

Three hours later, the men exited the hole as three prospects entered, ready to clean up all traces of blood. After the lye cooled, the fragments would be crushed, and all physical presence of the three young Skull Crushers would be blown away.

Covered in blood, Jerry went to his old room in the basement of the clubhouse and jumped in the shower, scrubbing the now-black blood from under his nails. His clothes would be burned along with the other brothers’, and he was glad he hadn’t worn the AC/DC shirt he’d bought the previous year at the band’s concert in Denver. It was one of his favorite band T-shirts.

Fresh and clean, he slipped on a black T-shirt that molded around his chiseled chest, blue jeans, his cut, and another pair of biker boots. Putting on his silver earrings—a small hoop, a knife with a black crystal handle, and a skull—he combed his hair and ambled out of the room, the party sounds from the great room filling his ears.

When he entered the hub, he headed straight for the bar, thirsty for some whiskey neat. He stopped and chatted with some of the brothers from the Wyoming chapter who were passing through on their way to a charity run in Utah. They’d spend a few days at the national club then head over the Rockies into Utah. Jerry hadn’t seen many of them since the previous summer’s Sturgis. A couple of them were busy with some hot-looking hoodrats, so Jerry decided to talk to them later in the night.

He leaned against the bar and swirled the amber liquid in his glass, breathing in its woodsy scent that only came from seven years in an oak barrel. He took a sip, savoring the light scorch on his tongue and the smoky taste as it hit the back of his throat, warming it as it slid down to his stomach, the heat spreading all over.
Fuck, that’s good.
His goal that night was to get good and drunk. The moments he’d spent with Kylie were on fucking replay in his mind, and the only way he knew how to stop them was to get plastered. He ordered two more double shots and a couple of beers. It was a start.

“You wanna have some fun tonight?” Rock asked as the muscular Sergeant-At-Arms sidled next to him. “I got my eye on a hot-as-fuck brunette, and she’s with a blonde friend who’s busting out at the seams. I thought we could have some fun with them. I know you like blondies, and it’d be fun to share. It’s been a while since we did that.” Rock threw back his tequila shot. “There they are.” He pointed to two women, who kept throwing glances their way. “What do you think?”

Any man would think the two women were hot with their barely there tops and tight-as-hell skirts, the curve of their rounded asses peeking out, but Jerry wasn’t interested in anything more than looking at them. “Not feeling it,” he said to Rock.

“Why the fuck not? Don’t you think they’re delicious?” Whenever Rock was drunk or horny, his Cajun accent became thicker. “And the blondie, she’s your type,
non
?”

No. Kylie’s my type.
“Just wanna drink and zone out tonight.” Jerry saw Throttle smoking a joint a few feet away. He whistled, and the biker turned his head. Jerry waved him over.

“What’s happening?” Throttle asked.

“Rock wants to bury his dick in a pair of hot babes, but he wants a buddy along to join in on the fun. You in?”

Throttle scratched his chin. “I got a bitch whose pussy I’m aiming for. She’s taking a piss.”

“Bring her along.” Jerry threw back his shot and motioned to Puck to give him another.

“So the three of us and the three babes?”

“Jerry’s only zoning tonight,” Rock said, raising one of his shoulders.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Throttle stared at Jerry.

“Means I’m not into fucking right now.”

“You shittin’us?” Throttle narrowed his eyes. “What’s going on with you? You got some secret babe stashed somewhere? You know, Axe acted like this when he was banging Baylee on the side before any of us knew about her. Lately, you’ve been pretty low-key with the club whores.”

“It’s not like that. Just tired and want to zone. Do you wanna join Rock or not?”

Throttle tilted his head back and stared at Jerry as though he were studying him, then he said, “Where’re the women?”

Rock laughed. “The one shaking her big tits on the table is the brunette. She’s mine for the first round, and the blondie with the perky tits is her friend.”

Jerry saw the brunette doing an impromptu strip show as the other men hooted and hollered, her eyes gazing in the guys’ direction. “I’m in,” Throttle said. “Come on, Rock. Let’s get a closer view. I’ll get my bed warmer and the five of us can have a fuckin’ good time.” The two men left Jerry at the bar.

After a few hours of heavy drinking, Jerry had more than a buzz going on—he was damn drunk. Long fingernails scratched his back, then landed on the nape of his neck, squeezing softly. “Want some company?” a sultry voice asked.

Turning his head slightly, he saw a blonde, blue-eyed woman pressing against him. She scooted over to his side, and he saw that she was stacked just the way he liked. He smiled. “Aren’t you pretty,” he slurred as she giggled and ran her fingers through his hair.