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“What do you need?”
“Need you to hide a few packages. Malice and Shame are already en route to you.”
“How long?”
“As long as it fucking takes. Don’t fuck this up, Kansas.”
The line went dead.
“God, your brother is a fucking dick.”
Couldn’t disagree with that. My older brother has been a dick from the moment he was born. As the first-born son, he did whatever the fuck he wanted. Got away with murder and I don’t mean figuratively. My brother Montana made his first kill when he was thirteen years old and never looked back.
“I ain’t worried about Montana. Just be happy that it wasn’t Dakota on the line. Now that fucker is scary.”
Pence pulled up a metal chair and sat, reaching for my pack of smokes. He generally didn’t smoke cause his ol’ lady didn’t like it, but if ever there was time for one, it was now. “Swear to God, Kansas, your family is no fucking joke. They scare the crap out of me. How you are nothing like them, I will never know.”
“I’m the youngest. The family protected me most of my life.”
“What do you think the packages are?”
“Fuck if I know. Could be anything from money to a box of fucking marbles. Montana doesn’t do shit without thinking ten steps ahead. Never play chess with the fucker. He will always win.”
“Don’t ever plan on being in the same damn state as him.”
I chuckled at that.
“Gonna tell the others?”
“What? That I am the youngest brother to Montana Stone, the President of the biggest motorcycle club in the United States? That I share blood with the Soulless Sinners M.C.? Are you fucking crazy?”
“Just saying that when Malice and Shame arrive wearing colors, the brothers are going to talk.”
Yeah, about that.
I couldn’t tell Pence that Malice and Shame wouldn’t be wearing colors. Well, not in the traditional sense. Only the club brothers wore colors. The officers, the board members, were a whole other story.
It had been three days since I talked with my brother. I knew that whatever he needed me to protect would arrive today. It didn’t take over three days’ travel from New York City. Less if it was just bikes and when nothing arrived yesterday, I knew whatever was coming was traveling by car. Which meant whatever it was, wasn’t small. Couldn’t just throw that shit in a closet and forget about it.
Shaking my head, I wracked my brain trying to figure out what Montana needed me to care for. I wasn’t messing around when I told Pence it could be anything. Fuck me. For all knew, my big brother wanted me to babysit a fucking potted plant. With Montana, I learned early on to never try to guess what he was going to do because I was wrong. Like always.
There was a time that I idolized Montana. I wanted to be just like him. My big brother was just more. Bigger, stronger, louder. There wasn’t anything I believed he couldn’t do. Then he had to show his true colors. When I saw who he truly was, and what he did, I vowed never to forgive him. The man I had once idolized was now nothing more than a stranger to me. The only thing connecting us was our genetic material and our last names.
Our mother, Virginia Stone, was constantly in the news, so she was easy to keep tabs on. As the former District Attorney for New York City, my mother brooked no recourse, ensuring that justice prevailed. She even recused herself a few times because of a conflict of interests. Though the wife of a biker, my mother was fair and just. An honest woman who took her job seriously. How my parents got together was a story in itself.
It was my father that gave most people pause.
Not only was my old man the former President of the Soulless Sinners Motorcycle Club, but he was also a major businessman as the President and CEO of Stone Incorporated. My family made their name by buying companies. Once gained, my father would rip them apart and sell off the pieces to the highest bidders. There wasn’t a company on this planet that didn’t hate, feared my family or disliked the company.
Me included.
Then there was the Soulless Sinners Motorcycle Club. Like the family company, the club was also unique in one small particular way. The club brothers, while they wore thousand-dollar suits and made their own money, they also belonged to the biggest M.C. in the United States. The brothers were also businessmen with deep pockets and connections around the world. The Soulless Sinners brothers gained notoriety for their allegiance to a feared biker club and their cut-throat business savvy.
I always wondered why these particular men would join a biker club if they had their own money. They could do whatever they wanted.Well, the answer was simple.
The men all had one thing in common.
They sold their souls to the devil.
