Colt Book 2

Scorp

Nearly every member of the Lords of Chaos arrived outside the dive bar that was the clubhouse of the Devil’s Henchmen, waiting to attend what was either going to be a ceremony or a bloodbath.

Colt thought it would be a piece of bloody cake, but I wasn’t so convinced.

When it came to patch-overs, ya never knew what you were gonna get.

My foot hooked under the kickstand, and I leaned my bike down, climbing off the beast. Had to admit, it was good to give it a real run. The rest of the boys followed suit. We were armed and ready to face whatever was to come of it.

With one hand tucked inside my vest on the gun in my holster, I approached the lion’s den.

Years had passed since a member of the Devil’s Henchmen had threatened me with a bullet when I refused to join his beloved club.

Love to say I blended in with the background, but with a road name being yer real name and a reputation like mine, I didn’t blend into anything—let alone the past. Nah, bikers had a fucking long memory when it came to club enemies.

My response?

I’d splattered that bastard’s brains. From the bloodthirsty looks on the faces of the members guarding the front door, I clearly wasn’t the only one who remembered.

As we stepped inside, I noticed the pool tables were unattended, the bar untouched; a sign of how solemn this occasion really was.

Randall, the President of the Devil’s Henchmen, stood at the center of the room waiting for me, his hands clenched in sledgehammer-like fists.

I imagined he probably wanted those hands wrapped around my neck right about now. But we had business to attend to.

Behind him, his men stood poised for a fight to the death, all packing.

Not a drink or smile in sight.

Bracing myself for the worst, I offered a hand as a gesture of goodwill.

“What the hell are you doing here?” the old man barked, looking at my hand in disgust.

“Colt sends his regards. The Devil couldn’t make it today. So, we doing this?”

Where exactly Colt was or was not was none of this motherfucker’s business and he knew it. Randall also knew that, without Colt, his son Kody would be rotting in a cell for years. The man owed us.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Randall shook my hand.

About damn time.

Even suffering the man’s death-grip, I breathed a sigh of relief. We weren’t in the clear just yet, but we sure as shit weren’t dead, either.

“First things first,” I said, pointing to the speakers. “You mind turning that crap off? Can’t hear a word you’re saying.”

Randall’s lip curled, but he did as he was told, nodding to one of his men.

The blues abruptly cut out, and the whole room was plunged into silence. Somehow, this was even more ominous. At that moment, Randall’s second-in-command, a quiet, mind-over-matter type by the name of Priest, stepped inside the room. Personally, I knew him only as Scarlett’s father. He nodded to me.

“How’s my daughter?”

“Colt’s looking after Scarlett, don’t worry. It’s like we’re all family.”

Randall took a threatening step toward me. “Just because our families are joined, doesn’t mean the rest of the club is okay with it. You follow me, Scorp?”

I nodded, uneasy, knowing that every patch-over came down to a vote.

Kody, Scarlett, and their fathers may be on our side, but how was I supposed to sway the rest of these dead-eyed members to join our ranks?

Honestly, I wasn’t even sure about Priest. Something about the man’s cold, silent stare unsettled me to my core.

“You know, no self-respecting patch-holder gives up his colors easy,” Randall said. “Best remind my friends here what’s in it for them.”

I nodded, turning from Randall to face his membership.

None of ’em looked happy having to listen to my ass. But I knew, it was now or never. If the Lords of Chaos wanted to be more than an eight-member circle-jerk, barely an MC, we needed every one of these Devil’s Henchmen.

To grow our ranks.

To show the world we were here to fuckin’ stay.

That we meant business.

The stage was set, and the clubhouse was so damn silent you could hear a pin drop.

I cleared my throat and addressed the men.

“Fellas, I know our two clubs haven’t always seen eye to eye, but Colt’s done right by your man, Kody, and I know he’d do right by every one of you, too. A war is coming. A war over territory. No disrespect, but you boys ain’t strong enough to face it alone. Nobody is. So, the choice is yours. Pick a side. Fall to the enemy, one by one, or join the Lords of Chaos. And survive. Together. Now, what do you say?”

Silence greeted me.

Not a single man moved a muscle or batted an eye.

For a second, I almost wished I’d left that shit music on to drown out this dead air.

I tried again.

“I said, what the hell do you say?”

I was about to give up on these sorry sons of bitches when, to my surprise, Randall stepped forward.

He slowly reached for his weapon.

Behind me, my men quickly drew theirs in response.

Shit was about to get ugly and fast.

I held up my hand.

“Wait!”

Randall paused, then continued to slowly pull out his .38 snubnose. For a second, I thought he was going to blow my fucking brains out. Watching his hand hover, that finger perched precariously on the trigger, I wondered why my life wasn’t flashing before my eyes. I took a deep breath, ready to face whatever fresh hell I was bound for, when—

Randell threw his gun into the middle of the table.

Surrendering.

Just the vote we needed.

We left the room to let the rest of the Devil’s Henchmen vote, but when we returned, every gun was on the table.

***

Call it revelry, call it fuckery, call it whatever you want—we’d fucking earned it.

I downed my fifth shot of Jameson in a row, slammed it down on the bar, and turned to appraise the scene before me. There were lines of blow, pressed pills, even some crystal being smoked. Everyone was partaking, and, goddamn, was it glorious. Not to mention the women. They had poured in as if on cue the second the ceremony was complete.

I had to hand it to Randall—his Henchman (former Henchmen, that is) sure knew how to pick ’em.

Still, for some reason, I found myself alone at the bar, isolated, with only my thoughts for company.

I wanted to celebrate the patch-over with everyone, but I couldn’t help but think of Summer.

The state she was in.

What right did I have to party after everything she’d been through?

Growing up, I’d always been there to take care of her. Every roadblock, every threat, we’d faced together dead-on, and, like the club, had learned to survive or die. But here I was, powerless, completely in the dark, with no idea how I was supposed to help her.

I wondered if I should have left her alone with Colt; if I could ever really trust him after what I’d done to him.

If Colt was ever to find out how I’d betrayed him...

But before I could give Colt or Summer another thought, I felt a hand tap my shoulder. I turned to see a girl—no, a woman—with dark eyes and full lips, and a body far from flawless. Could see the cellulite from a mile away, but, shit, I wasn’t complainin’.

“Scorp, right?”

“One and only,” I said, eying her clenched fist. “What you got there?”

“Open your mouth and find out.”

With a smile, I complied. She dropped a pill onto my tongue and kissed me. I swallowed, feeling the pill slither down my throat. Feeling her hands upon me, traveling. Feeling oblivion begin to take me away…

***

We lay in bed, bodies intertwined, in post-coital, amphetamine-infused bliss.

A cigarette in hand, I found my mind wandering yet again. I could barely keep up with my chatter-brain thoughts, they were coming and going so fast. Blame the speed for that. But as I looked at this woman beside me, this naked stranger, one thought clicked into place and refused to let go.

My mother’d always said that I would know the moment I met my soulmate because I would experience déjà vu.

Sounded like a crock of shit, if you ask me.

What made my mother think she was a fuckin’ psychic was beyond me, talkin’ like she could see my future.

Shit, I couldn’t see five seconds ahead of me if I tried.

Guess I didn’t inherit that voodoo gene.

Anyway, I’d already met Charlotte, the woman who was supposed to be my one and only, and what’d she done? Thrown my sorry ass out.

So, fuck it. Who needed soulmates or déjà vu when you could be doin’ what I was doin’—sleeping with as many women as you liked? Better to be free than worry about shit like love.

And with this comforting thought and the semi-gorgeous woman by my side, I smiled and felt my worries melt away, drifting toward sleep, unaware that my life was about to change forever—and not in a good way.