Chapter 4 Zero: Why don't we pretend she's good
.I turn into 18th Street and my stomach tightens with a sick feeling. If I don't get to Lazers in the next few minutes my woman is not going to be okay, call it a hunch or 8 years serving my country, but I'm never wrong.
When Falon whispered, “someone's coming” and cut the call. I got on my bike and drove.
No helmet or jacket. I didn't tell the brothers nothing, but knowing Storm he’ll figure somethings going down
He ain't the Vice President of The Satan Sniper's Motorcycle Club for nothing.
3 weeks, 21 days I have been doing this running around shit with Falon and I hate it. Keeping secrets from my brothers, making Storm do it too, it ain't right. I'm the Enforcer of the club. My dad was one of the 6 original members that started the MC nearly 40 years ago.
When I told Falon I wanted her in my bed every night, she gave me a blow job and offered to fuck me bare. She was that happy, then no show for two weeks. I had to hunt her down at her ma’s house in Barfa.
First she acted like it was nothing and she was just busy, which had me walking back to my bike.
It was a few days later when she came looking for me at the Clubhouse, eyes all puffy and shit, telling me she didn't want to stress her dad, and that we should wait six months to tell him.
My first reaction was hell no, but a week later I said fuck it, I missed her.
We spoke it out, more like banged it out and agreed to give things 3 months. I knew the real reason was that she wanted to be sure. I'm not a sure thing for her and I don't blame Falon for having doubts.
Truth is, I have them too, but Falon is the closest thing I'd ever gotten close to loving.
Like most of my brothers that make up The Satan Snipers, I was conditioned not to feel emotion, not to feel remorse.
When we joined the special ops program 8 years ago, we didn't think we’ll ever be free from it all. But Falon had a way of making one forget. No way was I going to let one of the other brothers have her.
Falon has known this life since she was born. She never let it harden her though. Her dad Rounder was 15 when he found out his ex-girlfriend Molly was pregnant with Falon. His dad was the sergeant-at-arms of The Satan Snipers at the time.
At sixteen while my blood brother, Thorn was fucking anything with a cunt, Rounder was a single parent changing his 3-month-old daughter’s diapers.
Apparently, Molly just upped and left.
With the help of the club and Rounder’s mother Haze, Falon turned out pretty good.
I stop my bike outside Lazers. The smell of alcohol, cigarettes and cheap perfume pollute the air in high quantities.
The rave music coming from Lazers is outweighing the other nightclubs. A crowd waiting to join in on the fun that's coming from inside is so long, there’s no way I’ll be able to bargain my way in. But right now, I don't give a fuck.
Normally I wouldn't draw attention to myself, it's my nature to blend in. I was trained to be a ghost and shadow in the army's special ops, and this is going against everything I've been taught, but I need to go fetch my woman.
I jump off my bike and head to the front door. The bouncer is clueless as I walk right up to him. He's too busy flirting with the tall willowy girl with the blonde hair and fake tits.
Two consecutive shots choose that moment to shock everyone. It's coming from behind the club. I'm already rounding the corner in a run. The sound of sobbing speeds my movement. I pause in my tracks doing a double take at the scene before me.
Falon is in a hunched position. Her jeans are torn off, laying in pieces beside her as she shakes with uncontrolled sobs. I give her body a quick scan. Besides the torn jeans she’s intact.
I can't afford to process anything beyond basic survival right now, not with the tall hooded figure holding a gun and two men dead on the floor.
I edge closer to the figures back.
I'm unnoticed.
My moves silent and breathing evened out.
“Hey Girl, you okay?” The voice is dry, rough and hoarse from lack of water or not talking. I don't care but it's definitely female.
Falon lifts her head toward the female. Her face smeared with make up running down her cheeks. I fight the need to show her any compassion or make sure she acknowledges me. I got to stay focused.
“Ththth...anks,” Falon stutters, hiccupping.
The hooded female lowers the gun to her side and I go in.
Gripping her arms to the side I pull the gun out from between her hands. She's fighting me but quickly loses spirit when I release her.
So, she doesn't like to be touched, interesting and opposite to Falon, who craves affection.
Not wasting time, I empty the gun, all the while noticing this girl's breathing is labored.
Ignoring the two opposite women, I jog across to the dead men, rubbing our prints off the gun, and put the two dead men prints on it. I finish with the blonde guys cold hand and lay the gun next to him as the back-door swings open.
People swarm through as my gaze goes to where Falon is, but she's not there. At my full height I scan the crowd and see the hooded girl pulling Falon in-between the dumpster. The hood girl is quick and doesn't understand what the fuck she just did, who she just saved.
Not only did she save the Prez daughter’s life, but she saved my woman's pride too.
The people crowd the dead bodies, some taking pics, others screaming or crying. Majority are just standing there staring at the two dead guys, and wondering what the fuck happened.
Wisp rushes over to me, her hazel eyes glassy, lips thinned. Her short denim skirt barely covers her pussy. The busty leather thing she has covering her tits is no better.
Storm and Texas are going to turn her hide.
We might be an all sexist club but the guys who have claimed one of our own, whether temporarily or permanent take their commitments very fucking seriously.
And there's no doubt that Texas isn't going to let her slide this one with a few fucks. We don't mind the girls dressing in skimpy shit around the Clubhouse. In public we mind, we’re territorial motherfuckers and have killed for much less.
The women know better. Wisp knows better. I kiss her head so I don't draw attention to us. The last thing we need is people asking stupid questions we ain't got answers for. This wasn't my first rodeo, and when I got this gig I knew the risk and what was expected of me as the Enforcer.