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how I should respond to those questions because both answers would result in me caring in some
way. I look at the alarm clock on my nightstand when an idea begins to form in my head. “Fuck it.” I stand and head for the shower. “She’s mine.”
RAZE
Beast had texted me to meet him at some typical small town biker bar. I laugh under my breath. There’s a line of black Harley’s outside except for one red one: Hellraiser, Hella’s bike. I know everything there is to know about all of the men sitting in that bar wearing a Devil’s Own cut. I’ve known every bit about them for the past ten years.
Beast: President, ex-Army member, also known as 316; ruthless, deadly, but at the same time silent and calculated. He can kill you in his sleep and not break a sweat.
Hella: Vice President, ex-Army member, also known as 112; ruthless, deadly, but can be reckless because he has a short fuse. He and Beast balance each other out, kinda like yin and yang.
Frost: Secretary. Broken home, junkie mom who married a rich well-off man who owns a chunk in the stock market. Fighter ever since he was a kid, calculated, demonic but a fucking genius with numbers. Doesn’t care about much, only his mom.
Hannibal: Sergeant of Arms. Feral. One of the youngest in the pack and absolutely lethal. Takes after his namesake, Lector. Kill choice and all. Gives fucks about very little, but has a soft spot for some hacker chick he grew up with and his own sister. Comes from a normal home, unsure what went wrong along the way in his mind.
Ripper: Treasurer. His name speaks for him. The go-to man for anything they need. Some say he has nothing to lose.
Toke: Patch member. Long standing patch member, loyal to the club and to Beast, but has no issues with voicing his opinion.
Skid: Patch member since recently. Newest Devil’s member. Young, same age as Hannibal, maybe younger, and is lethal with his fist. Throw him in a cage with Chuck Norris and I’d put my money on this kid.
Flicker: Patch member. Longtime member. Patched in because his old man was one of the founding brothers. Weapon of choice: fire.
Dash: Prospect. New prospect. Beast got rid of a few that had come through, and Dash is the last man standing, so I’m guessing his redeeming quality has something to do with the fact that he has low latent inhibition. It basically means that he sees the world in pieces rather than as objects. The kid is a fucking genius. Next level.
That leaves another two prospects who have recently started and I’m not sure they will survive long enough to even give them thought. Beast is selective with who he lets into the club; you gotta bring something to the table or he’ll shoot you.
Pushing open the door to my Phantom, I walk towards the bar and up the old burnt wooden steps before pulling the heavy door open. Silence falls as I enter and I smirk inwardly. Finding Beast, Hella, and Frost tucked away in a corner, I walk towards them.
“Where’s your other hand?” Beast asks, gesturing to the seat in front of him.
“Miles?” I smirk, unbuttoning my suit jacket and removing it, taking a seat. I begin rolling up the sleeves to my dress shirt. “At home.”
“He doesn’t follow you around? You know, for backup?” Beast hints at me, pointing to the beer that he already ordered for me.
I smile. “Hmm, no.” Taking the beer, I lift it to my mouth and take a long pull while keeping my eyes on Beast.
“And why’s that?” Beast cocks his head. Hella sits beside him with his arms stretched over the seat and Frost sits on a single seat at the end of the table.
“Because I don’t need it.” I shrug, throwing my arms over the rim of the two chairs beside me. “Are we going to carry on with this pissing contest? Or can we get down to why I’m really fucking here?”
Beast laughs, sitting forward. “Alright, then…” He pauses. “How do I know I can trust you? How do I know this isn’t some trap? This,” he points to the table, “could start the biggest war in outlaw history. You’re talking about mafia families joining together.”
I pick up my drink. “Has Millie said anything about who I am?”
“We fucking know who you are, man.”
I shake my head. “Mmm, no. I’m talking about the civilian side of me, not The Army side.”
Beast leans back and crosses his arms. This is probably the first time I can see some similarity between the both of us. “Go on.”
I grin. “How much do you know about the underground? I’m not just talking mafia. I’m talking everything. From illegal poker games to street races to who keeps the peace between transaction deals… How much do you know about who makes sure everyone stays in line or they lose their head? How much do you know about the man who plays God?”
Beast and Hella shuffle in their seat. Hella puts his hand up. “I’ve heard about a kingpin, never met him personally.”
My grin deepens at Beast. I flick my hands up. “In the flesh.”
“Get the fuck outta here!” Hella slumps in his seat and Beast’s eyes darken.
