AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The door behind me closes and I turn to find the bane of my existence standing there with a scowl plastered over his self-righteous, smug face. “Now, thanks to you, we’re dealing for Silver, and who knows what else he’s expecting us to do?”
Prophet.
I swear I fucking hate the guy, and really for nothing in particular other than he is a fucking know it all, kiss ass, who thinks he’s so much fucking better than us because he was once rich in his pathetic life. An uncle of his or some shit used to work with Stephan Silver before the bastard exiled his whole family for double crossing him. Now he lives down here in the slums and rides by my uncle’s side because he saved his life during a drop gone wrong. He’s his future right-hand man, and to my fucking disappointment, which means he’s untouchable.
Though that kind of money can’t stay hidden for long, and the cut he wears doesn’t hide a damn thing.
If you ask me, the guy is a fucking poser. He’s hiding something, I know that for a fact, but no one believes me. They just think I’m a kid who’s jealous because Prophet’s been seen around town riding with Stella.
My Stella.
Add that to the list of reasons I hate him. Although I know that will lead nowhere. If Stephan couldn’t stomach the thought of me being near his niece, there’s no way he’d let Prophet near her.
“Both of you need to just fucking chill already. I told you I’d handle it. Silver is pissed at me, and Kane threatened me. They know it was my big mouth and even bigger ego that got me into this mess. I’ll ensure The Cobras name stays out of it.”
“That’s where you’re wrong once again, son. You are a Cobra now, which means your fuck up is ours to clean up. Kane brought the cops into this shit. The violence around these parts of town is at an all-time high thanks to their fucking drugs, and that puts our guns at risk of being caught up by the Feds. We’ve got to stay out of the gun running for a while until shit settles down and because of that, we have no other source of income coming in.”
Fuck. looks like Kane kept good on his word of bringing the Feds in if we didn’t cooperate. We can’t risk being caught dealing guns on the streets being shot up nightly.
“Prophet’s on it already,” Zeke snaps, leaving no room for my rebuttal. “He’s set up a meeting with Silver and Kane to go over the next shipment they want distributed. Apparently, Silver’s putting a hold on the Tran-Q and getting rid of the last batch of KISS they have.”
“That’s fucking bullshit, Zeke, and you know it. Why the hell would Prophet set up the meeting when I’m the one who needs to sort this shit out?”
“Because I trust Prophet, Malachi. Because although you’re my idiot nephew, I’m your leader.” He points down at the tattoo of The Cobras sigil on his forearm, exactly like the one on mine. It’s funny, the first time I saw it I was eight, and it looked incredibly similar to the symbol the Death Eaters in Harry Potter have magically appear on their arms. Of course, being a Slytherin myself, all thanks to some stupid quiz Jade made us take, that was even more reason for me to want to grow up and tattoo it on my skin.
“You see this here son,” he points to the words MC President written under the snake, “This makes me the President, therefore I decide what happens to the club and its members. We put it to a vote last night and everyone agreed you need to step away from this mess.” I’m dumbfounded by all they’ve done behind my back. So much for this being a family, although given my experience withfamily,this fits the bill. Zeke steps toward me, placing his heavy hand on my shoulder. “I’m club president first and your uncle second Kai. You understand that.”
I shrug away from Zeke, disgusted by the satisfied smirk on Prophet’s face. Son of a bitch. “Crystal clear, Zeke,” I turn to Prophet, bumping him with my shoulder as I walk toward the door. Without turning back to Zeke, I look Prophet straight in the eye. “Let me know when I’mallowedback into the clubhouse.”
???
“Saint, wait!” Prophet calls out, chasing me out of Killian’s. I ignore the bastard, knowing the moment I turn around, I’m going to punch the fucker straight in the jaw and fuck that pretty face up. I should have known from the beginning you couldn’t trust a guy who looked like him in a biker gang. We’re supposed to be a group of balding, tattooed, ugly ass fuckers who scare the living shit out of you if you ever cross their paths. There is no room for pretty boys without a scar in sight.
He could say the same thing about me, but this is my family legacy. That’s why I’m here, even though I might look like a prince among thieves. I’ve never been a violent guy. That’s always been Drake. He’s the one who’d cage fight, he’s the one always starting shit just for the fuck of it. Deep down, I think he likes to feel the pain of someone's fist in his face and vice versa. At least it means he’s human and capable of feeling anything. I, on the other hand, can’t stand the thought of someone laying a finger on me. All thanks to my old man.
Yet at this moment, I want to shove my fist so deep into his face, it’d come out through the back of his head.
“Leave me the fuck alone, Prophet. I don’t have time, nor do I want to hear any of your fucking gloating.”
Outside, the clubhouse is buzzing with the loud revving of motorcycle engines. The Cobras and their groupies all hanging around, getting ready for another sleepless night of drinking, drugs, and sex. It’s the norm around here, which makes sense since nobody has a fucking job other than “bartending” or a “security” cover. The Cobras keep their members happy with a monthly allowance, after Zeke and the other men in the ranks take their cut, of course.
Prophet snorts, mocking me. “You think I wanted to have to fix the stupid rookie mistake you made? You put the entire club in danger with your reckless need to prove you have what it takes to be a Cobra, when you have no fucking clue.”
The men suddenly stop talking, the whores at their sides snickering as they watch our argument unfold. Everyone’s aware of my screw-up, although not everyone is as pissed and Zeke and his chairmen. Some guys, the low-level new inductees, see it as a way to make a quick buck. We all get a pretty good cut out of the gun business, but it’s common knowledge the real money is in the drugs. All the other MCs in the neighboring towns, both allies and rivals, are in on the trade and making three times what we are. Too bad for them, Zeke still has a somewhat of a conscience.
I swiftly turn to face him, halting him in his tracks as he watches me, ready to block me if I choose to swing at him. What do you know, the dudes not a complete idiot. “And let me guess you do?” I ask, sarcasm clear in my question.
“Yeah, I do. I know we’re supposed to keep our head down and look the other way when fuckers like Kane Dalton and Stephan Silver come knocking on our door. They need to feel feared and if you give them that, they leave you alone. You, however, challenged them, and now we’re all going to pay for it.”
“Well, add that to the bottom of the list of shit I’m worried about. I don’t give a fuck if they come knocking on our door. Let them. We have enough men to take them and their pathetic asses out.”
“You're a goddamn fool if you truly believe that Saint, and I didn’t take you for a fool. An idiot, yes, but not a damn fool.” He pauses, smirking at me. “Though I guess I was wrong. You let that sweet piece of ass slip out of your hands.” His grin beams, knowing damn well he’s hit a fucking nerve.
My vision goes blazing red at the mention of Stella. Now I want, no, I need to strangle the asshole. I know he’s done it just to fuck with me and get me where he knows he can make the most effect, but deep down a part of me worries he’s interested in more with her. It’s not news to anyone that they’ve been seen on more than one occasion at The Jungle together, but Stella hasn’t been back there in weeks. At least not that I know of.
It also isn't news I had a falling out with her since I’ve been in the worst, sour mood since graduation. It’s not difficult to put two and two together, especially since that was the day I got The Cobras on Silver’s shit list.
I’m just about to shove my fist so far up his ass you’ll hear him shriek from here to the east coast when I feel a heavy hand land on my shoulder from behind. I almost think it’s Zeke coming to stop me from beating his bitch to a bloody pulp, but I didn’t see him follow us out.
