Empire of Savages (Savage Hunt MC #1)

8. Nick

Chapter 8

Nick

Alex’s smell was still on my skin. I could taste her on my tongue. And, fuck, I wanted more of her peaches and cream flavor. She had been a nice distraction from thinking about Dimitri’s death, but I knew couldn’t let a woman get in the way of my revenge.

Scrubbing a hand over my face, I made my way back to the clubhouse, rolling through the gates when the prospect waved me in. After parking my bike, I headed inside, making a beeline for the bar. Sitting down, I ordered a beer, then sat there like a motherfucker, peeling the label off for no fucking reason.

I’d just taken the last gulp of beer when a heavy hand landed on my shoulder. I tensed out of instinct.

“It’s just me, brother,” Gunnar said, taking the seat beside me.

Turning my head, I found him with a woman hanging off him. She was pretty but looked too damned young. Her bubblegum-pink hair was in a loose braid over one shoulder, her unnaturally bright turquoise eyes regarding me carefully, like she was trying to place me in a mental catalogue she had in her head.

“Baby, how about you give me a minute,” he told her.

“Of course, but don’t forget about that tour you wanted to give me.” She walked off, the sway of her hips holding Gunnar’s attention for a fraction longer than normal.

“Who the fuck is that?”

He finally turned his attention away from the piece of ass. “Don’t know her name. She won’t give it to me.”

“Where’d she come from?”

“Beckitt invited her.”

I forced a smile onto my lips. “Is she legal? We don’t need any fucking heat on the club if she decides something wasn’t consensual.”

“Relax, she’s eighteen.” He turned his attention to the prospect. “Give us a couple of beers, Nate.”

The prospect—Nate—pulled two bottles from the fridge under the bar and handed them to us.

“Tell me, why the fuck are you out here moping? Weren’t Candy and Jewel enough to make your deprived dick happy? I mean, I picked Candy because she has the tightest, cleanest cunt of all the club girls.”

“They were great,” I replied, distracted.

Oblivious to my inner turmoil, Gunnar continued, “If you’re still interested in getting your dick wet, you can join me and my piece of ass.” He grinned. “Remember that time we spit roast that chick who wanted her boyfriend to ‘discover’ us by accident?” He chuckled. “Good fucking times.”

I was not interested in this inane trip down memory lane. Alex had taken the edge off my need to fuck; now I had to focus all my attention on the most important task. Turning around in my seat, I faced the room. Faced the brothers I’d chosen for this life. They were all here, letting loose with their old ladies or the club girls. The Hunt worked hard all week. Tomorrow we would be taking care of business or be on club runs. Tonight was for relaxing and getting our dicks sucked so much we couldn’t see straight.

“We’re going to find them, Nick.” Gunnar’s voice was solemn. He always did have a way of reading me. “Whoever pulled the trigger and killed D? We’ll find them and make them suffer for what they thought they could get away with.”

I looked at him again. “There are no leads though. Nothing solid, at least. It could be any number of people.”

“Kaash seems to think it was the Devil’s Chaos stirring up shit that hasn’t been stirred for a while.” He took another pull of his beer. “Look, we can do some digging and see what turns up. If nothing looks solid, we can look elsewhere, but it makes sense that they’re our starting point. Our two clubs have been at war for decades.”

He was right—it did make sense that it was an old enemy rather than a new one—but things had been quiet for the last couple of years. Each club was getting on with the business that needed to get done.

“All right, so what do we know so far?”

Gunnar’s lip twitched into a small smile. “I knew you’d see the logic. We know La Croix has been producing meth in our territory with the aid of their new puppet club. We should get our hands on one of their members and see what he’s planning on doing with it all.”

“And if we can’t find them? What then? What other fucking leverage do we have?”

Gunnar looked around before moving his mouth to my ear. “La Croix has a daughter.”

The fuck ? That was news to me. “Who is she?”

“Nobody knows. My man Brooks has been looking for her for years now. The only problem is there are a lot of people looking for her. He has been approached by a number of interested and disreputable parties, all of which can and will pay top dollar for the information. Turns out La Croix’s been making enemies for the last decade, all of them wanting to take their frustrations out on the guy. Brooks said the highest bidder wins the location of where to find her, but since he owes me a favor, he’d give me that information for free once he gets a bead on her.”

If we got to her, we could hurt La Croix on the same level as he hurt me. “We need her.”

Gunnar smiled again and clapped me on the back. “And we’ll get her. But tonight is for celebrating. Tomorrow is for chaos.”

Sliding from the barstool, he strolled over to the pink-haired girl who had been on the dance floor and eye fucking him the entire time we’d been talking. She grabbed him by the front on his cut and kissed him. His hands ran down to her ass, squeezing briefly, before he lifted her into his arms and urged her to wrap her legs around his waist. The movement revealed the tops of her thighs and a slash of blue cotton covering her ass. Gunnar was making a spectacle of her, but then again, hadn’t I done the same thing with Alex?

Before I could analyze that thought any further, Beckitt was there, grabbing the girl by the arm. “What the fuck , Bliss?”

Bliss pulled free of his grip, glaring at him.

Gunnar taunted, “Finders keepers, Beckitt.”

Beckitt’s hands curled into fists at his side, the action not escaping Gunnar’s notice. “ Bliss .” His pleading tone was the spark to Gunnar’s defiant fuse.

Gunnar released his hold on Bliss, letting her slide down the front of his body until her feet hit the floor. Without taking his eyes off Beckitt, he said to her, “Wait for me in my room, baby. Last door on the right.”

Bliss’s face flashed with a look of guilt before she scurried in the direction of the hallway. Everyone else in the room had grown still, and I was thrown right back into the pod when tensions were running high and shit could hit the fan at any moment.

Gunnar looked Beckitt up and down. “You want her? You’ll have to take her from me, West.”

Reaching behind me, I put down my beer bottle and walked toward the pair. This wasn’t like Gunnar. He’d never be this possessive of a woman, and he certainly wouldn’t attack one of his brothers for a cunt, no matter how good it was.

“Gunnar, let Beckitt keep the girl. We can sit at the bar and have one of the club girls come and suck your dick instead.”

Gunnar rolled out his neck, his gaze fixed on Beckitt’s face. “I want that one. She smells like a virgin.”

My eyes darted to Beckitt. His mouth was screwed up, his eyes flashing with anger. “Beckitt, if you give a damn about that girl, take her from Gunnar’s room and get her the hell out of here. Now.”

Gunnar rounded on me as Beckitt slipped past.

“Stay the fuck out of this, Nick. You don’t know what the fuck you’re getting in between here.”

The room was suddenly filled with a booming bark. I turned in time to see Lucifer charging in my direction, the lead attached to the pool table leg reaching the end of its range about a foot away, making the pool table groan as it was dragged a fraction of an inch to the left. I’d forgotten I’d left that goddamned dog tied up there. Lucifer’s barks became progressively louder, his dark eyes focused on Gunnar as he strained against his lead, trying to put himself between us.

“What the fuck?” Gunnar took a step back, eyeing the canine warily.

I held my hand down at my side, palm to the floor in an attempt to stop Lucifer. To my surprise, the dog stopped barking but didn’t take his eyes off Gunnar. I’d dissect what the hell that was about later; I needed to diffuse this situation first.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, brother?” I asked quietly, keeping the conversation between us. His behavior was off. “Why are you getting so hung up on some pussy? There are a dozen other girls here who would suck your dick without you having to ask.”

He glared at me, muttering, “Whatever. I can get another one,” before walking back to the bar and getting himself a beer. Everyone was looking at the dog by my feet, his ears pricked forward like he was waiting for my command.

Unhooking the lead from the pool table, I took the dog outside, needing the fresh air to clear my head anyway. Sitting in one of the chairs set against the far side of the building, I was hidden from view. D’s dog sat on his haunches beside me and stared out at something near the fence that skirted the entire property. Straining my eyes, I tried to see what had caught his attention, but didn’t see any movement.

Figuring there was a stray cat skulking around out there, I leaned back against the wall, the sound of the music from inside thumping against my head, setting my nerves on edge. Suppressing a sigh, I took a deep breath. Being inside the clubhouse didn’t hold the same appeal as it used to. I’d had enough of looking at four walls and the clawing sense of claustrophobia that seemed to accompany it.

Pulling a pouch of tobacco from my back pocket, I started rolling out a cigarette, the methodical steps serving to calm the shake in my hands. After lighting the end and taking a deep drag, I exhaled the smoke and closed my eyes.

They opened again when the mostly unused back door to the clubhouse opened, and the sound of raised voices spilled into the night air. Hidden in the shadows of the building, I listened.

“I’m not discussing this with you anymore, Kaash,” Rixon said. “The answer is no.”

“This affects the whole club,” Kaash replied, irritation lacing his tone. “It needs to be brought up in Church. You could’ve done that today. Why the fuck didn’t you?”

“I’ve already told you my answer?—”

“But the club hasn’t voted. This is a motherfucking democracy, not a dictatorship. Prostitution will bring more money to the club. It’ll boost our credibility as a club. We already have Muse set up to legally launder our money. It can take more.”

There was a deep sigh, like Rixon was rubbing his eyes. I got the sense that this was a conversation that had happened more than once before. “The answer is no, Kaash.”

“Why? Because of your daughter?”

There was a loud, sharp bang against the side of the building, the noise making Lucifer get to his feet. I peered around the corner of the building to find Rixon pinning Kaash with his forearm to the side of the building not more than four feet from me. The president’s chest was heaving with angry breaths.

“Don’t you dare talk about my daughter,” he growled into the other man’s face. “I’ve told you no on prostitution. We have Muse. That’s as far as I’m willing to dip my toe into the sex trade. Those girls dance because they want to be there, and they’re paid well for it.” Rixon pressed into Kaash’s neck a little harder, making him grip Rixon’s shoulders as he tried to push him off. “End of fucking discussion.”

“You’re killing this club,” Kaash rasped.

Rixon stepped back, his eyes still firmly fixed on Kaash. “You bring this up again, and I’ll have to take action. Am I understood?”

Kaash glared at him as he rubbed the front of his throat. “Understood,” he spat, his voice hoarse—strained from the damage Rixon had done to his vocal cords. He pushed off the wall and stomped back into the clubhouse. Rixon stood there a moment more, ran a hand through his hair, then disappeared through the same door.

Taking my seat once more, I wondered why the hell Kaash was trying to convince Rixon to expand into prostitution. Muse was the strip club the Hunt had bought a month before I’d gone inside. I didn’t know anything beyond that and where it was located.

A scuff of boots on dirt had my shoulders stiffening on instinct. I turned to find Vox leaning against the side of the building, his arms crossed over his chest, his hands covered in the leather gloves he always wore and the skull mask covering the bottom of his face.

“Vox,” I breathed out his name. “Hey, man.” Running a hand through my hair, I asked, “Party getting too much for you?”

He nodded, his gray eyes dropping to Lucifer. Vox crouched beside the mutt, putting himself eye level with the animal. There was a silent communion between them before Vox scratched Lucifer behind his razored ears, the creaking of his leather gloves somewhat comforting.

We were both silent for a long while, each of us stuck in our own heads.

Eventually, Vox asked, “What’s it like being out?” His voice was a dark rasp, like it hadn’t been used in a very long time. The guy didn’t speak a lot in any case, but it sounded like he hadn’t bothered to open his mouth and talk for years.

Unable to look at him—afraid of what he’d see in my eyes—I stared ahead at the covered area that housed some kids play equipment. Rixon wanted to ensure our members who had families felt comfortable bringing their kids around and had the play equipment installed about eight years ago, but it looked as if it had had an update recently.

“I feel like I need to be peeled out of my skin,” I admitted, speaking honestly for the first time. Confiding in Vox was like confession. You could tell him anything, and he’d take it to the grave. When he remained quiet, I glanced over at him. “Does that make sense?”

He nodded, still scratching Lucifer behind the ear. “You’ve changed.”

It wasn’t an accusation, more just a statement of fact, and his assessment was fucking right. I’d changed, but it wasn’t because of prison.

“Prison will do that.”

Vox shook his head. “No. Your brother’s death will do that. Have you had a chance to grieve for him yet?”

I brushed off his concern, saying darkly, “I’m fine. I just need to get my revenge.”

“I know.” Vox stood, pulling at his gloves. “And know that I’ll be here to help you, brother.”

With a nod, he wandered back to the clubhouse and disappeared inside. Heaving myself off the seat, I led Lucifer inside the clubhouse and down the hall to my bedroom. The damn mutt jumped up on the bed as soon as I shut and locked the door, and I scowled.

“Off,” I commanded.

With a sullen look, the dog crawled off the mattress, giving me the biggest damn puppy dog eyes. Ignoring the manipulative fuck, I walked into the bathroom and got in the shower. When I walked back into my room, towel slung low on my hips, I eyed the dog—who was still giving me the begging eyes—and pulled the blanket back. Dropping the towel, I got into bed, rolled onto my side, and killed the lights.