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Chapter One
Steel
Islammed a fist down on the huge table. The large slab of wood was constructed out of solid oak and steel to withstand all the abuse the biker club could wreak on it. But it shuddered under my strength.
The Fallen Angels looked up, most wearing their bored, bland masks. They’d adopted them after years of being sweated by police, feds and hell, even their mothers. They couldn’t let their emotions shine through, even hiding them from me, their president and leader of our biker club.
Some newer members wore looks of worry and one new recruit blanched in fear.
Pussy little fucker.
The boy had some lessons to learn if he wanted to go the distance and earn his Fallen Angels patch. Probably wasn’t cut out for the life, though.
It happens. With the possible war coming with the Dark Wraths, the boy would be tested and his fate sealed one way or another so I didn’t bother ripping into him.
I centered my focus on each man in turn, scrubbing hand down my jaw. “What are we doing about this situation?” I kept my voice even through a clenched jaw. No reason to roar with the rage burning in my gut when the quiet restraint of my words landed like a punch to the gut all the same.
Silence answered and through the dim lighting I could see only a few of the seasoned members held their gazes to mine.
“We got it covered, Prez.” Bishop, my righthand man, best friend and VP of the club, offered gruffly. The man had earned his nickname by being one of the slipperiest snakes on the West Coast. Just like I’d earned mine by being as hard as the element.
I sure the hell didn’t relent to anybody and sure as fuck not another biker gang putting claim to our territory. The rival gang had also captured eight of our club candies—girls who served the club in all ways from preparing food, sometimes cleaning after rager parties like tonight. And if they felt horny there were plenty of men to help with that and vice versa.
“You’re taking care of it, Bishop?” I asked, cocking my brow, my fist still planted on the tabletop.
A shaggy head of brown hair nodded. “Yeah, we got it, Steel.”
Another member spoke up. “I’ve got three men going with me to take back our territory. Tonight. Just give the word, Prez, and we’ll ride.”
“What about the club candy?” one of the new patches asked with a panicked look on his baby face.
I swung my gaze unimpressed with what I found staring back. “What about ’em? They don’t belong to anybody. They’re free to come and go as they please. Let the Dark Wraths have ’em.”
The patch’s face mottled red and he looked down at his hands. “Cara was a nice one, though.”
“Believe me, Dev. You don’t want to make a club candy important in your world. They ain’t old lady material. If there’s a bust, the candies have no loyalty and will throw you into the gunfire faster than you can draw your weapon. They’re here for taking care of the club and sex, all mutual agreements. That’s it. Now unwind your dick and get your head on straight.”
Dev nodded but didn’t look up again.
I grunted with frustration. Damn new patches thought just because a woman wrapped her lips around his cock good that it was love and emotions and shit. Fuck that. Hell, any woman who walked through those doors was far from worthy of being called an old lady. The handful who were around were here because they’d stuck by their men for years. Few had that sort of relationship, though.
I gave up on the females who saw our club as a rotating door of parties and living on the edge of the law. Especially the club candies. Given how easy it was to have one turn on you, it wasn’t worth the hassle. Add on the frustrations of managing the club and all our assets and dealings, well meeting the right woman to be my queen hasn’t happened yet. Doubt it ever will.
The last woman to get on her knees for me had disgusted me by coming up after swallowing my milk saying she’d done the same for the prez of the Dark Wraths last week.
Right then and there I swore off all candy. Let the other members have that shit.
“That’s all.” I straightened, folding my arms across my chest. Bishop slapped me on the shoulder as he passed. A sign all would be well and that one small gesture made me rest easier knowing my VP would take care of the problem.
I had other things to worry about. Like how to keep from taking the fall for an illegal drug deal we were trying to prevent between the Wraths and another club when the bust happened. The feds refused to think we could be the ones fighting against letting that shit hit the streets so I didn’t waste a lot of time cluing them in.
We do a lot of shit not even the Holy Pope could get pardons for, but drugs were one area I drew a hard line on and my men knew it.
Turns out the would-be supplier of drugs had been under the feds’ radar for a month. I had a feeling it wouldn’t be long before he squealed like a little girl. Which translated to telling the feds what they wanted to hear for a plea deal—thatwewere pushing heroin and about to make a major purchase.
All fucking lies. No way were the Fallen Angels going to take the heat for shit we didn’t do.
The men filed out of the room. I took up the rear. Looking around the club, I could see the emptiness where the eight stolen women had been. I raised a jaw to one of the recruits. The tall, tattooed guy came over.
