Acid (Black Hearts MC #7)

Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

ACID

As we stand around waiting for the Satan’s to show up, Rage shows off photos on his phone of his latest item in his collection; a foreskin he had taken from a local guy’s circumcision procedure.

“Brother, I swear to god, if you put that thing in my face one more time, I’m going to fucking make you swallow your phone,” Ghost growls in warning.

Beast looks down at his phone, checking the time. “Where the fuck are they? They ain’t normally this fucking late.” As if he summoned them, the rumbling of the bikes are heard in the distance.

“You need to chill out a bit,” Spider tells him.

Beast glares at Spider. “My woman is pregnant, and I don’t like fucking leaving her,” he states.

“Jesus, she’s safe there. She ain’t due to go into labour for months yet. Calm the fuck down,” Hawk sighs.

Beast just glares at him, but there is no time for a retort as the Satan’s come to a stop in front of us. Rip, their President, gets off his bike and walks over to Ghost. They both reach out and shake hands, slapping each other on the back. The once enemies are now allies. They talk amongst themselves while the rest of us and the Satan’s stand, waiting for our orders.

Ghost clicks his fingers, and Spider and Khan, the two VP’s, walk over. Things look intense as they talk. I look to Cash, and he looks at me, both of us wondering what is causing the tension. I’m about to walk over but stop once Ghost shakes hands again with Rip and they turn, each of them going back to their bikes. We wait until the Satan’s have left before walking over.

As we approach, Ghost holds out his hand. “Cigarette,” he demands. Spider is quick to place one in his hand before holding out his lighter to light it.

“I’m taking this as not a good fucking sign,” I state, crossing my arms over my chest.

Ghost’s eyes land on mine. He takes a long pull on the cigarette, leaning his head back as he exhales the smoke into the night sky. “The Terminator is in an unresponsive coma,” he says, looking a Spider. “We won’t be going to the fucking hospital to question him as they are turning his machines off tomorrow. He is unresponsive, a fucking vegetable,” he growls.

Spider runs his fingers through his hair, gripping it tightly. “Fuck!” he hisses.

“Fuck is fucking right,” Ghost snaps.

“But this ain’t the first time something like this has happened. Everyone steps into that ring knowing the risks, knowing what could go fucking wrong. It’s bare knuckle boxing in an abandoned warehouse for fuck’s sake,” I snap, squeezing Spider’s shoulder in support.

“You’re right. Him dying ain’t our problem,” Ghost states.

I frown and look to the rest of my brothers, who are also looking confused. “His father is Eugene Lorne.” I catch the expression of recognition on a few of the brothers faces, while I stand there clueless.

“Yeah, I’ve got no fucking idea who that is,” I point out.

“Eugene is an evil bastard, even by our standards. He isn’t from around here. He’s rumoured to have a place further north,” Ghost states.

“I’ve heard of him, once before. I was in this bar, and the guy next to me said he knew someone that owed him money, and when he didn’t pay up, Eugene tortured him. Not just the usual ripping out the nails or chopping off a finger here and there. He peeled his skin back on his legs, and he attached tiny needles along his eyelids so that every time the guy blinked, they would scratch and cut through his eyes.” Beast scrunches his face up with disgust. “And the worst part is he did shit to the guy’s wife right in front of him. Genital mutilation,” he says with disgust.

“So, what now? How is that his son? I mean, surely they weren’t close. The guy was Austrian for Christ’s sake,” I argue.

Ghost shakes his head. “For a guy like Eugene, it doesn’t matter if he was his long lost son that he never knew he had. All that matters to him is that it is his blood. We killed his blood. Now we’ve either got to get on the right side of Eugene and kiss ass, or we fight. If we fight, it ain’t going to be quick, and it ain’t going to be a simple war. Eugene fights and plays dirty. He double crosses and plays games with his enemies. Our decision on this needs to be thought through and discussed. We’ve played chess with our enemies before, each making a move, watching and waiting to see what they do next. But with Eugene, we don’t just play and wait, we predict. We need to coax his hand, force him to make the move we want him to take, but all without him knowing. Our ability, to shoot or stab, isn’t our only weapon when it comes to Eugene. We need to think. Always fucking think,” he warns, the muscle in his jaw set tight.

I look to my brothers and see that the mood has shifted. All of us are now on edge, knowing whatever is to come will be one, or if not, the biggest fucking war we’ve ever fought.

“Church?” Spider asks.

Ghost shakes his head no. “Not tonight. I don’t want any of the women knowing shit about this. Not one of them. I don’t want them suspecting anything is up. With Belle pregnant and the kids, my son, I want calm. I want them safe. We watch them, we keep an eye out, always keeping a fucking eye out, but we keep it fucking normal,” he growls, dropping his cigarette butt to the floor and stamping it out. I pull out a chewing gum and offer it to him, knowing damn well he is supposed to have quit and knowing Star will kick his ass if she suspects he’s been smoking. He nods his thanks and takes one.

We all mount our bikes, the sound of our engines rumbling the only noise. “Bet you’re glad you came back from being a nomad now, aren’t cha?” Scar laughs.

I shake my head. “Nah, a trouble free life is a boring one.” I laugh as we ride.

The ride back to the club was quiet, solemn. We are all deep in thought, thinking of a way to fix this, a way to keep us and our families safe. As we arrive back at the club, it’s late. We had been longer than expected.

Before we enter, Ghost stops and turns to us, placing his index finger on his lips, a simple gesture. “Shhh,” he reiterates from our earlier discussion. “Church tomorrow after breakfast,” he adds. We all nod, now all desperate to get in and pour a strong drink and forget, just for tonight, the threat that is closing in around us.

The prospects that were lounging around jump to their feet in hurried fear as we enter. They scurry behind the bar ready to make our drinks. The ol’ ladies come over, greeting their respective men. Each one of my brothers wrap them in their arms, savouring their scent and the feel of their body against theirs, needing that comfort, that calming effect they bring them.

I tap the bar and point to the bottle behind the bar. “Give me that and a glass,” I demand.

The prospect nods, not asking any questions and just hands me over the bottle. I pour myself a knuckle’s worth before knocking it back in one. I repeat this three more times before I feel her at my side.

“Two nights running? I’m surprised you have a liver left,” she teases softly next to me.

I look to my left and see her smiling up at me, looking a little awkward after today’s earlier naked events. “It’s been a day,” is all I say before pouring myself another one. “Fancy joining me?” I ask.

She shakes her head no. “Oh god, no. I don’t think I could survive that again,” she says, letting out a small laugh. She looks down at her hands, fiddling with her fingers.

“Just say what is on your mind, darlin’,” I tell her, knowing her well enough to know that she’s battling internally whether to say what is eating her up inside.

Her warm brown eyes connect with mine, and her cheeks start to turn a light shade of pink. “Just that er, we are okay, right?” she asks. “I mean, like from earlier today. I shouldn’t have just walked in seeing you like that, and um, well I suppose the same goes for you seeing me, or at least the outline of me through the curtain.” She takes a deep breath at the end of her rant.

I look her up and down, remembering how fucking amazing her body is under her clothes. She bites down on her bottom lip, like she knows exactly what I’m thinking. “We are good. It’s just the human body, darlin’,” I assure her, when part of me wants to take her back to my room and explore every damn inch of her body.

She lets out a relieved sigh. “Phew.” She smiles.

I don’t smile. I just continue to look into those rich brown eyes. “And darlin’, I didn’t see just your outline. I saw eve-ry-thing,” I confess, watching as her cheeks turn a darker shade of pink.

A spark flares in her eyes. “You didn’t see everything, or you would have seen my other tattoo,” she says, a wicked smile playing on her lips.

I raise my brow and look her up and down, again wondering where that tattoo could be. A part of me wants to search her body and look for it. “I guess it would be out of the question if I could hunt for it?” I ask.

She reaches over, snatches the glass from my hand and downs the whisky from the glass. She coughs and wheezes. “Sweet lord, that burns.” She coughs. “To answer your question, that would be a big fat no.”

I laugh and take the glass from her and pour myself another before I knock it back. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

“True but thank you. As it does wonders for my confidence, you know. He that shall not be named.” She pauses, rolling her eyes. “He always said I needed to work on my body. I mean, I tried, I really did, but it’s not like I could afford to join a gym or anything. I managed to keep most of my weight off because I couldn’t afford to eat, and walking up and down those flights of stairs each day helped, but I’ve never really got rid of the mom bod, you know? There still that little pouch bit and then there are the thighs and the ass. They just won’t shrink, no matter what I do.” She sighs.

I frown at her like she’s lost her fucking mind. “Mama,” I groan, my voice deep in warning. Her eyes spark with something when I call her that. I shake my head. “You have a body that should be worshipped, and you have curves that would bring men to their fucking knees. Don’t ever fucking let me hear you put yourself down like that again,” I chastise. Her mouth hangs open, and I can see she’s unsure how to respond to my compliment. “And if I hear you put yourself down like that again, I will take you over my knee,” I warn.

She sucks in a breath at my threat, and I notice her hands grip into tight fists at her side. I smile, knowing I’ve awakened a little something within her.

I lean in closer to her, my mouth close to her ear. “As your friend, I’m going to tell you that when you are healed, when you are ready, you need a release, then Scar will happily help you with that,” I tell her, leaning back.

Her gaze darts to Scar. “I, I can’t believe you just said that,” she says in shock.

I shrug. “We all need a release at some point. Why hide it? Just don’t expect more than his dick. I don’t think he’s capable of offering more than that,” I add.

“Jesus, this is a weird fucking friendship,” she mutters.

I can’t contain the laughter bubbling up within me. “Ain’t nothing weird about it, darlin’. Just friends talking about sex.”

“While flirting,” she adds.

“Ain’t no one died because of a bit of flirting.” I wink.

“No, but you might want to warn a girl before you start,” she counters.