Shattered (2 page)

“You trying to take my chair at the table?”

“Hell no,” Sue barked. “I’m trying to help you keep it. This shit is going to draw and quarter you. The gun deal gone bad, this Gray Man ghost, Toad and that cop dumped on our property, and now our very own blood brother shot in cold blood by Savage Souls patch holders. Not to mention the fucking feds and Chief Perez.”

Justice allowed the water to continue even after it turned cold. Tears streamed into his grown-out beard, and was something for no one else to see. Weakness would mean the end to his rule. That’s what their daddy had taught them—cry and get a spanking for crying—cry some more and the punishment became severe until crying seemed like laughter in light of the pain.

“Okay, my blood brother. One step at a time, and we’ll get back to our feet. You’re the only one in the family I can count on—truly count on.” The words scalded his lips. Sue’s deadly sin was envy, and he’d snatch the presidency in a heartbeat if he ever saw Justice flinch from a power play.

Justice’s advantage was that Sue’s ex-wife was still alive and since they’d divorced, her testimony in trial was permissible. Thanks to her hating his abusive ass, she’d keep him on a leash. He also knew how committed Sue was to his two children. Mostly, his USMC code of honor would prevent him from doing anything to break the light in which his kids saw him. Justice had relied upon Sue’s family ties to keep him in check before, and would use it again.

“I say we follow through with Gray Man to complete the gun deal,” Sue suggested.

Justice slammed the hose to the ground, “Fuck, why does everybody know about Gray Man, but we don’t do shit about him?”

“We’ll take care of his ass. Rage had gotten a hook on his location and e-mail. He traced the guns to northern California, but someone inside the clubhouse was communicating with him to try to finish off the deal. That’s probably what brought Gray Man down here from Sonoma County. I say we head out and get our shit back—maybe even kill that asshole for what he did to Toad.”

Justice wiped a dingy towel across his face and chest, “You think he killed Rage too?”

Sue kicked at the pooled pond of blood and water, “Don’t know, but it don’t matter. We’re going to kill this ghost either way.”

“I’ve already told St. John to prepare the logistics for heading up to California. It’s going to take a military-like operation to grab those guns, and make sure the feds don’t get them first.” Justice finished dressing and tossed the used towel at his blood brother. “Let’s call a tight circle and start the plan.”

“What about Fury?”

Justice nodded yes.

Sue dropped his gaze. “You know I’m going to have to pull some serious strings to get him out?”

Justice grinned, “What were your words my brother—hearts and minds? I expect you’d do anything you could to save your brother.”

Sue arched a brow as his hand sandpapered across his granite-hard jaw, “She’s not that bad you know. This might really look bad on her to let a suspected murderer free.”

Justice dropped his worn leather motorcycle boots. Anger seethed inside him but showed as disappointment on his face. His body felt as hard and heavy as a tank turret as he turned to face Sue.

“Are you fucking serious? You dare defend a pig over your own brother’s freedom?”

Sue crossed and uncrossed his arms. “I just don’t want her hurt.”

Justice stepped to within an inch of Sue’s face—nose to nose. “I thought I sensed weakness, so I did a little digging. Those fuck videos of you and that freak will do more than hurt her—they’ll destroy her. Unless she’s looking for a new career in porn.”

Sue’s fingers curled around his blood brother’s leather cut. He tried to shake him. Justice reacted too quickly and snatched him back.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Sue barked.

Sinister reached a new low in the look Justice gave him. “Go get your brother out of jail.”

*     *     *

A half an
hour past dusk, darkness settled over the Savage Souls’ clubhouse. They assembled in the area normally used for church. No one spoke as the club’s old ladies gathered their cleaning supplies and shuffled out of the room.

Fury slumped in quiet and humbled. It was obvious to St. John that he still grieved the loss of his lover, Officer Bart Crane. Mercy, Sue, Justice and Vengeance circled him and the blood brothers wept silently—Rage would be mourned and missed by each. A high-ranking club official’s funeral would require much planning. Thousands of brothers were expected, not to mention the military honors he was entitled to.

“We’re at war,” Vengeance howled as he turned from the gathering and smashed his boot to collapse a metal folding chair. His blood red eyes, streamed with the tears of an ache that ran soul deep. “There’ll be revenge on the motherfucker who killed our brother.”

St. John felt knots twist between his shoulders as he replayed the desert scene leading to Abigail blasting three rounds into Rage’s head at point-blank range. He’d seen what Justice did to two unjustly accused brothers—only God knew what he’d do to Abigail. He debated confronting her with the truth of his undercover mission. Would she understand his role as a federal undercover agent, or rat him out to the Nation to save her ass? He still couldn’t put a finger on it, but he trusted her—felt a deeper connection to this uncommon house mouse.

Justice shoved both hands in his pockets. “Lets not drag this shit out. I want Gray Man dead. I want our guns recovered. I want us to stop warring with each other and reclaim the glory of the Savage Souls Nation.”

Justice preached a message of redemption like an old-school tent evangelist. The blood brothers clapped and barked in agreement.

St. John dipped his head. Shit was going to ramp up quick, and he was screwed without his agency behind him.

Like pack wolves hungry for prey, the blood brothers recommitted their love for each other. St. John felt the overwhelming sensation of unity as he watched these embattled warriors cling to the only thing in life that mattered—family.

He wondered if Agent Jeff Graham, who was also once as close as a brother, was doing okay. St. John’s self-imposed exile from Graham continued to tear at his spirit. His suspicions grew over Graham’s involvement and whether the Vegas ambush was legitimate or contrived. He had to know. It was an unsecured line, but St. John fired off a quick text message to Graham.

[Hey Bro U OK]

His gaze grew hazy as he fiddled with the phone while he waited for a reply from his former partner. St. John was suddenly knocked out of his seat and onto both knees by a powerful whack against his back. His cell skidded across the freshly mopped tile.

“What the fuck?” He turned with a fist drawn back to confront his attacker.

Mercy stood over him. “I said are you in or out?”

St. John shook his head to shake the cobwebs.

“Are you deaf? I asked are you ready to take revenge on this motherfucking Gray Man?” Mercy looked even more enraged at having to repeat his question.

“Yeah. What the fuck’s wrong with you?” St. John glared as he struggled to his feet. Still unsure what had just happened, he braced himself to fight.

Mercy offered a handshake. “SFFS.”

“Who’s your bro?” snarled Vengeance.

The others stopped the bravado and peered at St. John. His unlocked cell phone sat in Vengeance’s slimy palm.

“That’d be none of you business.” He reached for the phone but Vengeance pulled away.

“I think we found our snitch.” The unsure look of arrogance and ignorance washed over Vengeance’s ugly mug. He waved the cell like a victory banner.

St. John’s ass clenched as he thought about the information stored in his cell. Unlocked as it was, it meant his death.

“Last chance,” St. John warned.

Vengeance shoved the phone into the inner pocket of his leather cut. St. John’s gaze fixed on the vest. The sergeant at arms patch covered the area of his inner pocket. A United States Coast Guard emblem adorned the other side. St. John’s vision was fixed on the vest, but he also knew he’d better pay attention to the others that circled them. The mood was already ripe for violence. He didn’t want it aimed at him.

Justice lurched forward with an outstretched arm, “What’s on the cell, dude?”

“How’s that any of your business, Justice?”

“It’s all my business.” Justice took another step toward him.

“You back to that bullshit again? This is about the Nation, not you. It’s my phone. I pay for it, so go fuck yourself.”

Vengeance grabbed St. John’s cut. “What did you just say?”

St. John had played out the scenario before in his mind. Now that Vengeance’s hand was entangled, St. John wrapped it in his own. Vengeance looked at him with wide eyes. St. John twisted his arm away to create a gap and drop the blood brother.

Like lightning, St. John slammed his right fist across Vengeance’s open mouth. The blood brother collapsed to his knees, but St. John wouldn’t allow him to fall. He cranked harder against his left wrist until the snap echoed throughout the former cafeteria hall.

“You motherfucker,” Vengeance howled in pain.

St. John thrust his hand inside the club’s colors and retrieved his cell phone, “This isn’t the end of it between you and me.” St. John’s words were hard and spoken in a low hush. Reddened skin highlighted dark eyes. His thoughts were about Abigail and Vengeance’s brutal attack on her.

“You’re damn right. This ain’t over between—” Vengeance’s words stopped short once St. John smashed another fist to his face. He released his grip on the blood brother’s limp left hand and Vengeance crumpled to the ground unconscious.

St. John mashed the button to lock his cell phone screen. “As for you, Justice, this better be the last time you turn against me for the sake of one of your fucked up kin.” He held the phone out toward Justice.

Justice sneered. “When I want your phone, I’ll take it.”

“Or die trying.” St. John dropped it into his pocket.

I
usually enjoy
dining alone, but his invitation was so delightful, how could I say no? I am Gray Man after all. All I intended to do was get back home to Sonoma County. There’s a shit pile of glorious weapons waiting to be auctioned, and though I had no intention of dining out, he made it impossible to refuse.

California Highway Patrolman Charles “Chip” Diego was wonderful in the beginning. He was so courteous after he pulled me over for going a tad too fast along Highway 1. I understood and appreciated his concern for my safety—the curving coastal roadway can be dangerous after all. But then, he got nasty with his words and accusations. His questions got very personal and, honestly, I resented his tone of voice.

While his hands roaming over my body made me horny as fuck, there was no way I’d let this pig handcuff me. That’s my game. So I killed him.

Now, there’s no sense in allowing good flesh go to waste. Something intoxicating about the delicacy of a muscular man in uniform who keeps his body hard for fighting criminals. Although there weren’t the preferred cooking accommodations like Officer Bart Crane had offered, I still enjoyed the meal. To be honest, I hurried through the dessert to get to the sex.

This would be my first state trooper. For some reason, they were a bit harder to lure than the sheriff’s deputies who were always more than anxious to run their hands all over an outlaw biker. Since he was to be so special, I ate less of him and left more for balling. His soft leathery skin was naturally tanned, and the absence of gritty cop tattoos made him less to read, but more to enjoy.

After I buried myself in him beneath some shady redwoods along Highway 1, I stuffed him in the trunk of his pig mobile and drove it over the cliff outside of Bodega Bay.

I have to get home to Sonoma County. There’s an enchanting person named A. Black just dying to get my weapons.