Fender: Soulless Kings MC Read online

  The tightness in my chest loosens with the breath I let out. Vendor, not Fender. Fuck, I am losing my mind.

  “No, sorry. That’s fine.”

  Maggie frowns and takes my hand, leading me away so we aren’t blocking people. We take the escalator down to the food court, and the smell makes my gut twist and rumble. I haven’t eaten today… or yesterday now that I think about it.

  She leads me to a table and points at a chair. “Sit.”

  I narrow my eyes at her tone and don’t move. My stubborn side won’t let me.

  Maggie rolls her eyes. “Damn, girl, you look like you’re about to pass out. Will you sit so I know you won’t collapse while I go get us some food?”

  “I can go.” I step around the chair, but pause when my vision goes a little hazy. The smell of all the pizza mixing with orange chicken is making me nauseous.

  “Sit. Down.” Maggie pulls out a chair for me, and I roll my eyes at her like she’s ridiculous before sitting.

  I sigh as she leaves and lay my head in my hands with my elbows propped on the table. I’m shit at showing it, but I’m forever grateful for that girl. I don’t know how someone could still be friends with me after…

  Well, after.

  Maggie returns with two giant slices of pizza and sets one down in front of me. My stomach rumbles, and I ignore the sound, hoping she will too. I take my first bite and pretend I don’t notice the quizzical look she’s giving me.

  “What’s going on with you?”

  I chew the bite as slowly and casually as possible before swallowing. “What do you mean?”

  “Are you starving yourself? Is anorexia like the cool thing on the east coast or something?”

  I snort and take another bite of pizza. I hold my hand in front of my mouth and answer in between chewing. “No, I just honestly forgot to eat… There’s a lot of tension at my mom’s.”

  And plenty of tension coming from him.

  I swear over the last couple of days, ever since seeing Fender, I’ve felt like someone’s been watching me. Even at home hairs stand on my arms if the curtains in my bedroom are open. But that’s ridiculous.

  Maggie gives me an apologetic frown. “Sylvia and your mom still aren’t coming around?”

  I shrug. “Mom says she doesn’t want me to leave, but I don’t know. To be honest, Mags, I don’t feel welcome here. Maybe it’d be better for everyone if I left.”

  I say it like it’s the logical thing to do, and it is. My voice is even and cold, but inside my heart is crushing and I hope she’ll tell me not to go. Then at least I’d know one person wanted me to stay.

  Maggie glares. “What kind of coward-ass shit is that?”

  “Excuse me?”

  She shakes her head and picks at her pizza. “You know, when you left the first time, I admired you. I thought you left because you wanted more, and you didn’t give a shit about what anyone thought about it. I had no idea it was because you were a runner.”

  I grind my teeth and lean forward. “Take that back.”

  “No.”

  “Take it—”

  “I’ll take it back when you tell me you’re not about to walk away with your back hunched. We’re your family, Char. So what if some people are pissed? This is where you belong, so make them unpissed.”

  “I wish it were that simple,” I mutter, Fender’s image flashing through my mind.

  “It is.”

  I consider arguing with her, but if I do that, I’ll have to tell her things. Like that my family aren’t the people I’m concerned about the most. And that if they knew everything I’ve done, there would be no chance of them being ‘unpissed’.

  We eat the rest of our pizza in silence, then continue through the mall. Maggie holds up clothes to me and babbles about who the hell knows what while I humor her by trying on the outfits and even purchasing a few things. I toss glances over my shoulder every few minutes when that same sickening feeling of being watched won’t subside. I’m being paranoid.

  By the time we leave the mall, several bags in hand, the sun has set. We walk out the wrong door and have to scale around the building for several minutes before we see our bikes parked at the far end of the lot.

  All I can think about during our walk are the eyes I feel on me and who I imagine they belong to. That’s what this is, isn’t it? It isn’t paranoia, it’s a fantasy.

  That’s even more wrong.

  I give in to the urge I’ve been fighting all day and clear my throat before peering at Maggie. “Can I ask you something?”

  She tosses me a glance and continues toward our bikes, but at a slower pace. “Anything.”

  “I saw someone the other day who I thought I recognized, and I’m wondering if you remember this guy from when we were younger. His name was like Bumper or Bender or something like that?”

  She stops fully and tilts her head at me. “Fender?”

  “Yeah, maybe. I’m not sure, to be honest. I think I might have met him at a bar or something years ago.”

  “Why do you want to know about Fender?”

  Her tone is accusatory, and my skin starts to crawl thinking about why that might be. I have no idea what I’ve missed in the four years since I left, but I know Fender didn’t just ‘get over’ his parents’ murders. War between our two clubs has either already happened or is happening.

  I try to look as nonchalant as possible and shrug. “Like I said, I saw him the other day and was just—”

  “If you’re seeing him, you’re in the wrong part of town, Char. Stay away from that guy.”

  “Why?”

  Her gaze is so serious, I can’t feel the other pair of eyes on me. Only hers. “He’s the Soulless Kings’ prez, and he’s dangerous.”

  My jaw drops, but Maggie doesn’t seem suspicious of my surprise. The president? What the fuck?

  “Just… Stay away from certain parts of town, okay?”

  I recover from the shock and give my head a little shake. “How am I supposed to know what parts of town are our territory and which are theirs? So much has changed since I left.”

  “I’ll show you tomorrow.” She looks around and shifts the bags to one hand so she can cover her chest with the other. Did bringing up Fender’s name make her this uneasy, or can she feel what I feel now?

  “Come on, let’s go.”

  We walk the rest of the way to the bikes, and Maggie glances around nervously to keep a lookout for Aunt Annabelle’s green Jaguar. Maggie called her a little while ago asking if she’d meet us since we bought too much shit to carry it all home in our saddlebags.

  “Where the hell is she?” Maggie mutters.

  “It’s a big lot. She’s probably just taking a minute to find us. Did you tell her what stores we’re by?”

  Maggie takes out her phone and taps on the screen. She pauses when headlights illuminate us as a vehicle pulls into the lot.

  I cover a hand over my eyes to keep myself from being blinded by the SUV’s lights, but I still make out the skull wearing a crown on the front plate.

  Fuck.

  Maggie must recognize who it is too because the phone slips from her hand, and she drops the bags. She carries herself back a few steps. “We need to go,” she says to me, just as the doors to the SUV open.

  “Why should we run?” I drop my bags and ball my hands into fists like I’m preparing to fight.

  “You don’t understand,” she hisses, backing into her bike and clutching the seat.

  Fender, Joker and two guys I don’t know walk around the front of the SUV with slow, arrogant strides. Fender leads them, and I don’t miss the scowl on his face or the sinister smiles on the others.

  Maggie’s bike starts up and the engine rattles in my ears, but I don’t turn her way.

  “Charlotte!”

  “I’ll catch up with you.”

  I see Maggie frantically look between me and the rival club members, trying to decide what to do. She waits another few seconds before the bike takes off with a ro
ar. Joker raises the gun in his hand at her, and I almost panic, but Fender raises his hand and waves Joker off. “Let her go. She doesn’t matter.”

  “What do you want, Fender?” I ask, steel in my voice.

  I wasn’t paranoid. They were his eyes on me, watching me the last few days. There’s a tiny ball of hope curled up in my chest at the prospect that maybe it wasn’t for malicious reasons, but it dies there when his hardened gray eyes don’t flicker with even a hint of humanity.

  This isn’t about us.

  This isn’t even about me.

  This is about him.

  “I think you know what I want.”

  “To yell at me some more? Maybe talk shit on my old man? I don’t even know who you are let alone what you want.”

  “Answers,” he sneers, seemingly offended that I didn’t already know that.

  I feel the blood leave my face when I look between the men and realize what’s about to happen and why they’re here in that SUV instead of on bikes.

  They’re going to take me.

  They creep closer, Joker easing behind me. My stupid ass pride won’t let me move.

  “I’ll answer whatever the fuck you want me to right here.”

  Joker laughs and goes to grab my arm, but I anticipate it and jab my elbow into his sternum. His wheeze fills my ears followed by a grunt by one of the nameless men who I kick in the crotch next. I go to bring my other elbow toward one of the unknowns, but he catches my arm and twists it behind my back until I groan in pain and look up into Fender’s stormy eyes. Now they flicker with something, but it’s only amusement.

  The side of my face explodes as a fist connects with my jaw and white light bursts in my vision. Blood fills my mouth, and I spit it on the ground before turning to see Joker’s furious expression and his fist raised like he wants to hit me again.

  I turn my gaze to Fender, expecting to see him angry at what Joker just did, but his cold eyes only train on me.

  “What the fuck are you going to do?” I mumble, my swelling jaw making it hard to speak.

  Fender pulls something from his pocket, and I’m lifted higher to Fender’s level. My eyes widen when I see it’s a thick needle. He jabs it into my neck and plunges liquid into me that instantly has me feeling dizzy.

  “You’re right, you know,” he says, but it sounds so far away. “You don’t know me.”

  Chapter Six

  The dark has a way of making people crazy, feel like they’re losing their minds. It has a way of making people talk.

  Fender

  “This is a mistake, Fender, and you know...”

  I glare at Margo, forcing her words to trail off, as I stroll past her toward the office, where church is held. I called an emergency meeting after dumping Charlie in the Nightmare Room—affectionately named because of all the nightmares the Soulless Kings have created for enemies in there—and the voting members have all arrived and are waiting on me.

  Margo is likely the only person who would dare to tell me this is a mistake. I ignore the urge to put her in her place because as stubborn as I am and as loyal to my brothers as I am, I’m not certain she’s wrong.

  When the plan to kidnap Charlie was devised, I’d agreed. Fuck, I’d even ordered the plan to be carried through and plunged the paralytic into her neck. That didn’t mean that it had been easy. Especially not when she put up a fight, trying to save herself. The fire Charlie possessed years ago is still there, and while infuriating, it’s fucking hot.

  “You should have seen that bitch.”

  Joker’s voice registers as I reach the office door, and I stiffen at his words. We aren’t even sure she was behind the attack four years ago and my brothers already have her tried, convicted, and sentenced. Why I even give a fuck is beyond me.

  Liar. You know exactly why you care.

  I shove open the door, and the room immediately goes silent. All eyes turn toward me as I put my weapon in the box to my left, and if I weren’t so goddamn pissed, I’d laugh my ass off. There’s not a damn thing funny about this situation though. Laughter would just mask the tightly coiled rage slogging through my veins, threatening to burst through the skin and unleash itself into the world.

  I take my place at the head of the table and let my gaze roam over each one of my brothers, pausing briefly at each set of eyes. Piston, my VP, bangs the gavel to call church to order and I begin.

  “Before we get to the reason for this meeting, is there any other club business that needs discussed?”

  Greaser, our Road Captain, stands up, his chair scraping along the hardwood floor as he does. “Bull was late for the exchange last night… again. I charge him extra each time, but the fucker’s rich so he doesn’t give a shit. I propose we vote on our dealings with him. Either we cut ties or we teach him a lesson, and if he fucks up again, capital punishment.”

  “Flash, how much money does our deal with Bull bring us in revenue?”

  Flash, MC treasurer, scrolls through his laptop, which he brings to every meeting, and then tips his head to the ceiling. We all know this is his way of double checking the computer’s math. Flash is smart as hell, and while he advocates for digitizing everything, he never trusts just the machine.

  “We make over seventy large. We pay fifteen grand for each shipment and charge Bull cost plus forty percent. It’s good money, but with the addition of Infinite Motors, we can afford to lose Bull’s business until we find another dealer.”

  I process this information and nod. “Got it. Let’s put it to a vote. All those in favor of cutting ties, thump twice.”

  No thumps sound on the table, which is our way of voting. I tried the whole ‘raise your hand’ thing when I was first voted in as president and they all complained that they felt like kindergarten pansies so the ‘thump vote’ was instituted.

  “All those in favor of teaching Bull a lesson, followed by capital punishment if he fails to learn it?”

  Every member pounds the table twice with their fists. Unanimous.

  “So ordered.” Piston bangs the gavel.

  I turn my attention to Riker, our Enforcer. “Riker, plan accordingly. I want this dealt with by the end of the day tomorrow.”

  Riker nods and an evil grin spreads across his face. He’s our Enforcer for a reason. Fucker is always spoiling for a fight, and when it’s a sanctioned one, he tends to be more vicious. He’ll do what needs done, no matter what, but when he has permission to do what he does best, there’s no telling what will happen. There isn’t anyone I’d rather have in his position, but sometimes he takes things too far which makes it damn hard to clean up after him.

  Greaser sits back down, his duty complete.

  “Anything else?” When no one else stands, I move on to the reason I called the meeting. “Earlier today, we followed through on the matter voted on yesterday. Charlotte Dorn, daughter of deceased Black Savages’ president, Dyno, is being held in the Nightmare Room.” I pause to take a deep breath, knowing this next part is going to be difficult, even for a ruthless motherfucker like myself. “We need to discuss and vote on methods of interrogation—”

  “We do whatever it takes,” Joker barks.

  My stare cuts to him, but before I can respond to his statement, Greaser makes his opinion known.

  “Prez, she set us up. You’re fucking parents were murdered because of her. Why are we even interrogating her? Kill her, bury the body and be done with it.”

  “We’re interrogating her because we agreed that we need answers. Look,” I lean forward, bracing my hands on the table in front of me. “If it turns out that everything happened because of her, I’ll kill her myself, but we have to be sure. I’m all about revenge and sending a message, but I refuse to murder a woman because of suspicions. That’s not how we operate.”

  “Maybe we should,” Riker mumbles.

  My head swivels toward him. “You got something to say, say it so everyone can hear. Don’t be a fucking pussy about it.”

  “I said, maybe we should.�
�� Riker stands and looks around at our brothers. “We have to send a message to the Black Savages. We’ve done our best over the last four years, but if that bitch was behind the attack, we can’t let that go. Tits or not, she deserves whatever comes her way if she’s responsible.”

  There are murmurs and whispered agreements, but no one has the balls, other than Riker, to challenge me.

  “You’re all entitled to your opinions, but opinions don’t mean shit at this table. We vote, just like we always have.” I scan everyone’s faces again. “We’re not going to get anywhere if we continue to argue about what should happen.”

  I drop back in my chair and heave out a sigh. I don’t know why I even bothered calling this meeting. We all have a common end goal—punish those responsible for the bloodiest ambush on Soulless Kings’ property—but the path to get there isn’t as clear. I’ve heard every word that has been said to me since that night, listened to my family bash the woman I thought was meant for me, but it ends now.

  Now, we do things right. Get answers. Act accordingly. Nothing more and nothing less.

  “Anyone care to start off the suggestions for interrogation?”

  “Beating the answers out of her.”

  “Deprivation… of any kind.”

  “Waterboarding.”

  “Drug her.”

  Answers are shouted out in rapid succession, and I see Curly, our Secretary, furiously scribbling words down in his notebook.

  “I submit it for a vote that we do whatever it takes,” Joker speaks up.

  “All in favor?”

  Two thumps all around.

  “So ordered.”

  The bang of the gavel is like a knife to the gut. I don’t let it show, but knowing that I just agreed to incredible suffering for Charlie has my stomach in knots. The hatred that’s burned in me for four years for that woman had been a constant, a driving force behind my every action. But seeing her, talking to her, even if it wasn’t pleasant, changed things. Made me second-guess everything. Because the woman I knew, the woman I fucked, the woman I loved, wouldn’t have betrayed me. Unless she played me from the beginning. That’s what I need to find out.