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Prologue
Storm
Two Years Ago
I’m going to tell you a story. My name is Jake Morgan, but I rarely go by that anymore. I’ve been a Merciless Few member for over seven years now. I’d been a punk-ass kid at 23 when I’d wandered into Indecent Proposal for the first time. My buddies and I had a hankering for getting lit. Watching girls dance made the effort that much sweeter. By that point, I’d been pretty aimless, going from job to job, never letting anything stick.
I’d noticed some belligerent old guy had gotten way too drunk and wouldn’t stop harassing one of the strippers as I went into the bathroom to take a leak. When I came out the guy had her fully pinned to the wall. There wasn’t much traffic toward the back exit and the bathrooms. I planted my fist in his right kidney; he leaned over in pain and the girl had runoff. The next thing I knew I was being hauled into the back office by some burly-looking guy with a leather cut that read Brute on the tag. Everyone knew of the Merciless Few, it was too small of a town not to.
The guy behind the desk was probably 60, give or take, it was hard to tell with the leather look of his tanned skin. He was smoking a cigar and giving me the once-over.
“So, I hear you helped Pearl,” he said. His voice sounded like sandpaper.
“If you mean dropping that asshat, then yeah I guess I did.” I stood without fidgeting, keeping my eye directed at his dark brown ones.
“You fight a lot?”
I shrugged my shoulders and said, “I don’t go looking for ‘em if that’s what you're asking.”
“It’s a compliment. What’s your name, kid?”
“Jake Morgan.”
“Prospect is your new name. Come back tomorrow and we’ll tell you how this works.”
“Just like that huh?”
“Just like that.”
That night I’d meet Snake, the Prez. I had been a Prospect for a year with a reputation for cracking skulls and coming up with ideas to help the club flourish. Punching that random drunk revealed my destiny. I became Storm when I patched in as a full member of the Merciless Few MC.
Two years ago, the club went through a major upheaval, as Snake’s emphysema became so bad that the humid Carolina climate was causing havoc with his lungs and his doctor told him he should move while he still had time. He’d packed up his old lady and got the hell out of dodge. I thought for sure he’d go nomad since being a brother was in his blood, but he’d told us he was too damn old to care anymore. I hoped I wasn’t that cynical at his age.
Brute, the VP, was the likeliest candidate for President given all his years of service to Snake, but surprisingly he never had a taste for it. So, the old bastard devised a game for his own amusement. The rules were simple. Bare knuckles and no weapons, were the only rules. If you wanted in, you put your name in a hat. The two names would fight for the right to be the president of the MC.
The rest as they say is history.
CHAPTER 1
Sutton
Most nights, driving down the I9 coastal road in Mercy, North Carolina was just what I needed after my dancing at Sailor Gentlemen’s Club. My stage name is Serenity, because being by the ocean inspires me. No matter what kind of day I’ve had the water soothed me. I grew up in a small town in West Virginia, my family never traveled to the coast so when I was deciding on a college, I knew I wanted to be somewhere near the water.
Tonight, however, my car had shut down and I’d barely made it to the side of the road. Thank fuck, I’d had a signal on my cell and was able to call my roommate, Amanda, to come to get me.
At 3 am, the moon glimmered down on the water as I felt the ocean breeze caress my face and riffle through the strands of my black wig. I sat on the hood of my old VW bug, the adrenaline starting to leave my body. My gaze took in the moon as its light danced across the water. The air was humid and salty but not unpleasant. July on the coast was a busy time. The beaches and tourist attractions bustled with activity during the day and left the beaches at night undisturbed and lovely.
A sound had me turning my head and I could see the rays from the headlights on the paved road.
“Finally,” I yell as I slid down the metal of the hood.
The headlights blinded me and I realized this wasn't Amanda. Fear crept up my spine as the truck cab door creaked open. The shadow was tall, but the lights blinded me and wouldn’t allow any distinguishing features to be seen.
“You need some help?” A gruff voice called out.
“I’m fine. My ride will be here any minute,” I announced as calmly as I could, shielding my eyes from the flashlight he swung around.
“I can take a look or give you a ride somewhere. Hey, I recognize you,” he said. It was still hard to distinguish his features, but he looked like an older guy, mid to late 50s maybe.
