Unlawfully Yours (Lawless MC #1)

2

“Fuck yeah!”

The raucous cheer punishes my eardrums when Kill lands a hard punch to the poor sap who decided to go up against Killian ‘The Killer’ Hunt tonight. We tried to warn him it wouldn’t be pretty, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer, and Kill was all to happy to entertain the guy. It must have been all the alcohol he consumed in the bar earlier that befuddled his brain because no sane person would knowingly walk into the ring with The Killer with the intention of walking back out in one piece. I guess the poor clueless bastard is regretting his decision now as a string of blood dribbles from his mouth onto the ground, his left eye slowly swelling shut and a collage of bruises darkening his pale skin.

Killian runs a bloody hand through the long dark locks that cling to his sweat-covered forehead. Of all of my guys, Killian is the only one to never turn down the opportunity for a fight. He’s always the first one in the ring and the last one out. It’s not from want of reputation for him, he’s never cared much for what people think of him. Fighting is a way of release for him, a way to ease the tension in his body and quieten the demons that torment his mind, the ones he holds close to his chest. He’s never been one to share his feelings, and though they’re there, he hides them well.

The poor sap in the ring takes a feeble swing at Kill but he doesn’t get very far. Kill blocks him and sends a knee up into his abdomen which has him doubling over, coughing. I expect him to tap out, but I have to give the guy some credit, he wobbles back onto shaky legs, raising his fists in front of him, determination and defiance in his eyes as he refuses to back down. This guy’s got some guts, I’ll give him that.

“Where’s Jack? He’s not one to miss a fight,” my younger brother, Jett asks. He’s been at my side as my VP since our dad died and I took over as President of the MC. He’s a lot like me in some ways, a little more unruly but he has a good heart and there’s no one I trust more.

“He took his girl to the hospital didn’t he? For the ultrasound scan to check the baby’s okay?”

Jett cocks an eyebrow sceptically. “At eight o’clock at night?”

Yeah, that is pretty weird. He left hours ago. He should be back by now.

Kill lands yet another blow to the guy in the ring who’s now on his knees and it’s then I decide I’ve seen enough. I love a fight as much as the next guy, but there comes a point where it becomes painful to watch.

“I’m gonna go grab a drink from upstairs, I’ll give him a call, make sure they’re okay.” I slap a palm to my brother’s shoulder before pushing through the crowd.

Judging by the cheer as I reach the door, I can only assume the guy has come to his senses and tapped out, something he should’ve done fifteen minutes ago.

I head up the staircase and through the door which leads into our bar, The Ape Hanger. Every Sunday, like tonight, we lock down the bar after eight p.m. because Sundays are fight night. The ring is our way of blowing off a little steam, to settle scores or to have some fun.

There are only a couple of people up here seeing as everyone is downstairs watching the fight. Ray is stretched out on the couch reading a book. He’s the oldest member of the MC, he’s royalty considering he was one of the four founding members who created Lawless back in the mid-eighties. Besides Ray, only one other founder remains, Marcus Carver, who runs the Lawless chapter out in upstate New York.

I glance down at the title in his hand. “That the one where the wife killed the son and framed the husband?”

He slams the book closed, staring at me over the top of his reading glasses that are perched on the end of his nose. “Thanks a bunch, you annoying little shit.” He mumbles that last part under his breath, but not so loudly that I can’t hear.

I throw my head back in laughter. “I’m only kidding, Ray.”

I pull out my phone and bring up Jack’s number, putting the phone to my ear as I bend down under the bar to reach for a bottle of bourbon when there is a heavy pounding on the door.

Drawing the gun from under the bar, I head towards the door, that’s when I spot Jack, our youngest member standing there. I hang up the phone and unlock the door.

He stumbles inside, collapsing onto one of the bar stools, a trail of blood trickling down the side of his head from his hairline all the way to his chin, a couple of other cuts to his face in various places.

I help him onto one of the bar stools. “What the fuck happened?”

“Cobras.”

My blood runs cold.

Ray rises from where he’s sitting, alarm written across his face as approaches us. He places a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Is Jade okay?”

He shifts on his seat, groaning as he clutches his side. “She’s fine. She’s with her mom. A little shaken by the whole thing but she’s fine.”

My teeth grind as I toss a glance to Beau, one of my Prospects. “Find my brother. Shut down that shit downstairs and get everyone out. Emergency Club meeting. Now .”

Ten minutes later, we peel out of the lot and onto the road, riding in formation as the sound of a dozen bikes echoes through the quiet, empty streets of Stillwater Falls. The low rumble of the bikes’ engines vibrates through me so deep I feel it in my bones, in my soul.

I ride up front with my brother to my left and my Sergeant-at-Arms, Venom to my right. Behind them; my Secretary and all around computer-wiz, Mateo Cruz, or Cruiser as he’s better known. My Enforcer, Killian along with the club’s Treasurer, Ray, followed by the youngest members, Jack and Alex. Riding at the rear are, Beau and Mac, the two Prospects hoping to be patched members in the near future.

The clubhouse is situated just outside the centre of town, but with any small town, you can get to just about anywhere you want to go in under five minutes. Everybody is up in everyone’s business and the rumour mill is on a never-ending cycle.

We park up outside the clubhouse and head inside, each of us taking our designated seats around the chapel table with me sat at the head. The Chapel is where all of the club business is discussed. What is said in the Chapel, stays in the Chapel.

“What’s this about, Prez?” Cruiser asks, worry etched into his brow.

“Jack and his girl got ran off the road earlier. Says it was The Cobras,” I explain.

Killian’s head snaps to where Jack is sat across from him, his eyes wide. “What the fuck? You okay, man?”

He nods. “Just a bit bruised. Jade’s shook up but she’s okay.”

“You sure it was them?” Jett presses, leaning forward in his seat.

Jack shifts in his chair, wincing. “Positive. Saw one of their faces, looked like their ratty looking crackhead VP, Ricky. Didn’t catch the other guy.”

I scrub my jaw. “ Fuck. ”

The Cobras. Never has there been a group of guys I hated more than those fuckers. They take that name on the back of their kuttes much too literally for my liking because they are the slimiest bastards going.

We’ve had beef with their crew over the years, especially when the club was taken over by their now President, Tobias Grimes twenty years back after his dad died. Up until that point, The Cobras and my crew, Lawless were on civil terms. Then Tobias took over and our relationship with them was obliterated. Things have been quiet over the last few years while their President has been serving his sentence for murder—much to his dismay—a charge even those in his back pocket couldn’t make disappear.

The bastard got out of lock-up a little over a month ago and things have escalated ever since. Seems our buddy over in Hillcrest isn’t one to let sleeping dogs lie, and he’s getting bolder.

Two weeks ago, one of our businesses, Vivid Ink was broken into and trashed, though the CCTV remained intact, it was almost as if they wanted us to know it was them.

Then, last week, Cruiser’s bike was tampered with. And now tonight with Jack and his family…

They’re goading us. Testing us. Pushing us to see when we snap. But why?

Why now?

Tobias wants something from us, I just have no idea what that is, but one thing is certain, he’s not afraid of innocent people getting caught up in whatever the hell he’s got planned and I don’t like that.

“They went after my girl, Prez. My pregnant girl,” Jack continues.

“I say we gun the fuckers down,” Killian suggests through a puff of cigarette smoke.

“I second that,” my brother, Jett adds.

Ray shakes his head.

Jack slams his fist down onto the table. “I want Ricky six feet under with a bullet from my gun in his head.”

“Just hang the fuck on, nobody’s gunning down anyone,” I say, trying to calm the growing tension that’s thick in the room.

“So, what are you suggesting exactly? That we do nothing?” That comes from Venom, or Venom as he prefers to be known. I pin my Sergeant-at-Arms with my eyes.

I’m not a bad leader, every one of my guys are allowed to voice their opinions and share their ideas and concerns, but I don’t like the way he said it.

“I don’t like your tone, Venom. Got anything to share?”

He avoids my gaze, fixing it firmly onto the mahogany table in front of him and that’s answer enough.

I turn to the men who surround my table.

My brothers .

From all backgrounds and walks of life, and at different stages in their lives. Every one of them has a story that led them here, that led them down a path that’s not by any means for the weak.

Being a part of a motorcycle club is tough. It takes a toll on not only your body and your mind but your morals as well, and at times it’s a little dangerous. But we live for this life. Being a part of an MC is a commitment, just the same as marriage or raising a child is. It’s a bond between men, regardless of blood.

It’s a family . And I would die for each and every man that is sitting before me.

Their family is my family, and that’s all we fight for. A home for our children, a future that’s safe for them and the generations to follow. How we ensure that future and their safety… well, it’s not always legal, but sometimes two wrongs do in fact make a right. Right now, our biggest threat are the scum that call themselves The Cobras over in the next town.

“Seems our friends over in Hillcrest are gunning for a fight. For what reason, I have no idea, but retaliating now would be playing right into their hands. That’s what they want,” I say.

“We can’t just do nothing, brother,” Jett says.

“I’m not saying we do nothing, I’m saying we need to be smart about this. We need to come up with a plan. Do something that’s gonna hurt them a lot more than drawing blood.”

“What d’ya have in mind, Prez?”

“Cru, think you can hack into their accounts, see where their money is coming from?” The Cobras have made it no secret where the majority of their cash comes from just about anything illegal, drugs being at the top of that list. It’s their main source of income. Take that away and what do they have?

“Want me to try and hack their communications too?”

“As much info as you can get.”

“Give me a couple hours.”

“What are you thinking, Myles?” Ray asks.

“What do you do to kill a snake? You cut its head off, and that’s exactly what we’re gonna do.”