The Filthy Few (Iron Disciples MC) (23 page)

When we are finally finished I am done. So much of my sex
life has left me lying next to a sweaty man wanting for more and not getting
it. For the first time in my life I am satisfied. I am full and I don’t want a
shred more. We’re lying side by side on the hardwood floor; side by side in our
collective pool of sweat. I am just thinking it would be nice to lie on the bed
now when Cade gets on his knees and just scoops me up in his arms, then stands
and carries me to the bed where he gently deposits me in the middle. I roll to
the side and he lies down on his side and draws me into his own warm body.

I don’t know how long we lie here before my brain begins to
work again. All that anger that was brewing is beginning to boil again like I
knew it would. He’s still going to go on with his fucked up plan and kill his
little brother and I am still going to have to leave him. I hate myself for
being this way but I cannot help it. I don’t have a family anymore. I lost my
mom and dad within 16 months of each other. The rest of my family died the day
I turned fourteen. I’m an only child. Cade’s parents are dead but he has a
brother and I’m guessing that since his brother is the VP in the same
motorcycle club that they must have been close at one time or another. And now
he is hell bent on killing him in some misguided effort to stop a club war.
Who’s to say that his brother didn’t leave instructions for his club to start a
war with the Disciples if he were to lose the fight? In fact, I bet that is
going to happen. And I also bet that Cade is using this as an excuse to kill
his brother and it’s got nothing to do with protecting those brothers in his
club who have wives, girlfriends, and children. Fucker almost had me convinced!

I elbow him hard in the ribs and when he pulls back I roll
over to the other side of the bed.

“Lemme guess,” he says. “You’re angry again.”

“Of course I’m angry. You’re going through with your fucked
up plan so tell me why I shouldn’t be angry.”

He opens his mouth to say something then closes it. After a
second he tries again. “I…I got nothing.” He finally admits.

“Then I got no reason to stick around here.” I reply.

“Are you kidding?” He asks. “What about the last two hours?
Did that mean nothing to you?”

“Yeah it was fucking hot!” I retort. “But that’s all it was,
just a lot of fucking! What you want from me I can’t give it. I lost my family
when I was fourteen and here you are murdering you only family you got left.
How can I be okay with that?”

“Geeze Morgan, I thought we moved past this.”

“You thought because we fucked that we moved past? Wow, you
are really naïve sometimes.”

“You know I have to do this.” He argues. “You just won’t
admit it. Just because you lost your family doesn’t mean mine is worth keeping.
But you’re forgetting a key piece of the puzzle here Morgan. I
am
protecting my family. My family is the Iron Disciples and I am trying to
protect them. Why can’t you see that?”

“You two fighting won’t stop the war that’s coming and you
know it. You ca-”

“Oh I know it will. You don’t know anything about biker code
of conduct or you wouldn’t say that. But I’ve taken measures to assure that if
Eddie winds winning and decides to go after us anyway. Just before we draw our
weapons I’ll give him proof that I have taken fail safe steps to prevent any
treachery on his part. I’m not an idiot Morgan and I’ve held the position of
President in the most powerful outlaw biker club for a very long time.
I
know how it works, you don’t.”

I want to believe he is telling the truth here but I just
can’t. I will never get past him killing his brother; never. That’s too bad
because I really like him. In fact I have never felt this way about another man
in all my life! And I am about to leave him because he can’t see things my way.
How fucked up is that?

“Look Morgan. You got a decision to make here. You can’t
stand with one leg in and one leg out. It’ll never work. You either jump in
with both feet and accept the biker world or not. You’re either all in or all
out. That’s the way it works. You’re going to have to trust me. So what’s it
gonna be Morgan?”

I try to think back to my last boyfriend and I realize
something. I always had one foot out the door and relationships don’t work that
way, especially when you’re a biker’s old lady. Like Cade says, you’re either
all in or you’ll be all out sooner or later. Question is, am I ready to be an
all in old lady?

“If I’m gonna be an old lady there’s something you gotta do
for me.”

“Name it.”

“Full disclosure. I’ll accept nothing less from you. You
don’t and keep things from me then there will always be this wall between us
and I can’t live with that. I have to know what I’m getting into. I want to
know if my life is in danger and especially if
your
life is in danger as
well. You come home wearing a bloody tee shirt I want to know why. If you just
up and knifed some guy I want to know it. Don’t fucking leave me guessing Cade
or I
will
be outta here.”

“You want the truth? You can’t handle…Just kidding.”

“What? What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Oh come on,” he says. “You can’t tell me you didn’t see
that
movie! You remember that scene with Jack Nicholson and Tom Cruise, right?” Then
when he sees the blank look on my face. “Never mind. It was a pretty damn good
movie though. But yeah, full disclosure, as you put it.”

“Full Disclosure? You’re really fucking serious about that?”
I ask skeptically.

“Completely.”

And now I pounce. “The Filthy Few patch. You owe me a
fucking explanation and it’s been a long time coming.”

He takes a deep breath and lets out a long sigh. “Alright,
he says. Just remember, you asked for it.”

(Cade Tells His Story)

Fifteen years ago…

I walked into my clubhouse and sat down at the far end of
the bar. At the opposite end is a prospect whose name I didn’t catch. He was
not a big guy…maybe five ten and maybe one sixty. He had a curly mop of dirty
blond hair on his head and a scruffy sparse beard. He didn’t look like your
typical prospect.

“Gimme a beer prospect!” I bark with the correct amount of
disdain and authority.

Like any good prospect he hustles to do my bidding. Being a
newly patched member the act of bullying around our prospects is still a
thrill. I was there once looking in from the outside, wearing a simple cut with
the word prospect on the bottom rocker. I was the one taking the abuse not
dishing it out.

“It’s fucking warm prospect! I slide the bottle down the
counter top with enough vigor to cause it to tip over spilling the precious
brew all over the counter and floor. That would of course mean he would be
getting a mop and bucket to clean up after
my
mess.

“Get me another bitch, and if it ain’t colder than a witch’s
tit I’m gonna stick it up that bony ass of yours and make you drink it dry.”

He doesn’t dare object or be anything less than enthusiastic
about my abuse. You just have to keep your head down, do what you’re told and
exhibit nothing but reckless loyalty to the club. You really have to love the
LIFE or you’d never be able to stick it out for the year and a half to two year
process that it takes to become a fully patched member.

It did have its perks though. Even one of our prospects
commanded loyalty in the biker community. In fact our prospects were considered
higher up in the biker food chain than patched members of some of the smaller
to mid-sized clubs. I both loved and hated the twenty months it took for me to
be patched in. So…I wasn’t a total dick to that guy.

“What’s your name prospect?” I finally ask him one day over
a beer.

“Daniel, but most brothers call me Speck.”

“Speck? There must be a story behind that.”

“Not really. Until I get my patch I am about as important as
that speck on the wall.” He says pointing to a dark speck on a nearby wall.

I laugh. It was a typical biker name for a prospect. Many
prospects keep their nickname even after they get patched while some prefer to
go back to their regular name. Our Sargent at Arms kept
his
nickname. Of
course his prospect name was cool as hell. Who would not be wanted to be called
Shadow? I on the other hand will kill anyone who calls me anything but Cade. I
hated my prospect nickname. I’m guessing Speck will go back to being Daniel if
he eventually gets his patch.

Over the next six months I really got to know Speck well. He
was a great guy even for a prospect. He had a knack for throwing knives and story
goes he saved a brother’s life one night at a bar by throwing a knife into the
throat of a rival biker who pulled a gun on the brother. He really was a badass
but didn’t have a giant ego to go with it. I actually liked Speck.

I had been a patched member for about 8 months when my club
loyalty was tested to its limit. The inner circle of brothers left one night on
a very hush hush weapons run to a new client. Because the client was new there
was the greatest risk of being set up or that we were unknowingly delivering
guns to the ATF or the FBI. As it turns out they were walking into a set up by
folks from the ATF (Alcohol Tobacco, and Firearms). The resulting trap landed
seven brothers in jail for fourteen months.

It took us awhile but we finally found the person who set us
up; Speck! I was blown away. I really like the dude and was looking forward to
his being patched in next month. The brothers approached me with an assignment.
I was led into the inner sanctum where the remaining brothers who made up the
council had gathered around. In the middle of the table was what appeared to be
an eight by ten photo turned upside down, and on that photo was the coveted
Filthy Few patch.

“Cade,” our club’s Treasurer, began. “It’s time for you to
earn your Filthy Few patch and demonstrate your loyalty to your club.”

Right away I knew what was being asked of me. I was being
ordered to kill someone; probably someone from a rival club like the Outkasts.

“Have a look at the photo. When you take care of the problem
you can come back in here and pick up your Filthy Few patch.”

I felt so proud at the time, as well as more than a little
scared but I was not about to let the brothers know anything about my inner
turmoil. Being conflicted or asking questions is not something that belongs in
the brotherhood. You trusted that the president always acted for the best
interests of the club. This kill I was about to do was in the best interests of
the club and I would be protecting my brothers. Of course I want to protect my
family. It’s just…I had never killed a man before and I had no idea how
difficult it might prove to be. I was sure I could do it though; until I turned
over the photo and saw who I was being tasked to kill.

The man I was going to have to kill was none other than Speck!
I swear I was shaking like a leaf when I sat back down at the table with the
photo in my hand. In fact I had to put both hands under the table so they
wouldn’t see them shaking. I couldn’t believe Speck was the rat. From day one
I’d had it drummed into my head about being loyal to your brothers and the club
and how being a rat was the worst thing in the world. Rats are the lowest of
the low and deserved to die. So a part of me felt the rage that other brothers
were feeling and another part of me began to mourn for Speck who would have
been my brother officially next month. I couldn’t fucking believe it. I was
told to come up with a plan and present it to the brothers the next evening so
I went back home and got drunk. It’s the only thing I could do. I just could
not plan to kill a brother; at least not yet anyway.

The next day, hung over and feeling like shit I begin to
steel myself for what I was about to do. I decided to make it simple. We had
just fixed a bike and needed to take it for a test drive. I would be riding the
bike we had supposedly just fixed and he would go along to give me a ride home
if the bike we fixed gave out on me. I was given a Glock 17 with the serial
numbers filed off and a silencer attached. I was told after I took care of the
rat problem that I could keep the gun. I always wanted to carry a gun and to be
a real badass, but not like this. I guess everything has its price.

The next morning we jumped on the bikes and I took the lead
and he rode beside me. We drove around town a bit then I jumped on the highway
until it took us out of Alameda County. We took the first exit off the highway
in Colusa County, and then took another winding road towards the coast. The
whole time he kept right beside me flashing a smile whenever I happened to look
his way. Under normal circumstances I would have really enjoyed the ride. But
it had to end and putting it off wasn’t gonna make it any easier. After a bit I
pretended to have an issue with the bike and pulled off on a dirt road and
behind a copse of trees to look at it in the shade.