Integrity Has No Bounds (3 page)

“As far as me telling the brothers’ every
detail, that won’t happen, they will know what he did, but not a
blow by blow, it’s not necessary, and I wouldn’t share anything
that intimate with another person. I needed to hear what happened,
because I want you whole when I sink my cock inside you, trust me,
you will feel me when it happens, but I won’t bruise you or take
what you aren’t willing to give me.”

Stevie shook her head,
did he just
say
, “What do you mean, your cock will be… Look, you don’t have
to take responsibility for me. I told you I’m going to buy a gun
and the puppy will bark if anyone is around, he won’t be much of a
guard dog for a while, but I will have enough notice to be prepared
in case it happens again. You don’t have to play at being my lover,
I’ll be fine.

“I only told you because I know there would
be hell to pay if Lucifer’s Breed found out I was paying another MC
for protection, and if something were to happen to the building or
the business, I’ll probably be in a shallow grave somewhere or
they’ll find my body in the middle of the bar cremated already. You
all need to know who to blame if something happens, that’s all I
wanted the Breed to know.”

John stood and placed the chair squarely in
front of the desk. “You close the bar at midnight?” She nodded and
he told her to stay inside of the building until he got back. “If
you leave before I get back, you won’t be happy to find yourself
over my knee and cuffed to my bed until we get this sorted
out.”

“You can’t tell me what to do, and you can
stop threatening to spank me too, I’m a grown woman, and don’t need
a daddy.”

The last few words were spoken to the room.
John had left, rather than stick around to listen to her arguments
it seemed.

She blew out a breath and scowled at the idea
he seemed to believe her misfortune gave him permission to boss her
around.

Baron stared at the normally stoic ex-Ranger,
now arguably the best mechanic in this corner of the state. John
Handy was also one of the few men Baron was damn glad to name as a
friend. There might have been a handful of times in the past few
years that he’d seen the man so animated. However, this time, Baron
sensed it was something John considered personal.

It was about damned time as far as Baron
could see. John had lit up every time Stevie Hill’s name was
mentioned. When Skids and Tank had speculated if she might be
interested in a good time, John had threatened to castrate Skids if
he went near the girl. Tank had raised his hands in the air in
surrender that day. Neither man wanted to test John physically, but
his reaction to their teasing had given them more than enough
fodder to tease the big man later on.

“You know I have to try to settle this first,
right? I’ll call Pappy D and warn him off. But we know they won’t
listen until someone gets his ass beat. They will back off and come
sneaking in again in a few months. That persistence is about the
only good quality those fuckers can lay claim to.” Baron took a
list of numbers from the top drawer of the desk and scanned for the
number of the Swamp Kings’ clubhouse.

John had already shown the letter that Stevie
had given him to Baron and Leech. Before Baron started punching in
buttons, John spoke up. His words of intent to do damage to the man
he wanted to see face to face puzzled Baron until he heard what the
real reason for John’s anger was about.

“You can tell that Swamp Rat that I want his
fuckin’ rat-faced bastard who threatened Stevie, I will find him,
or they can give the bastard up. If I have to pick them cocksuckers
off one at a time until I get the right one, then it’s no skin off
my back. I need the target practice.”

Leech had been sitting in a chair with the
legs propped up, and let the legs hit the floor. “John, clubs
threaten people all of the time, hell, we have had to make threats
to get our point across too many times to remember. We usually
settle for busting a few heads until the next time they slither
from the stinking vegetation.”

John turned on Leech, and advanced toward him
slowly with his hands fisted at his side. “Really? Tell me how many
times have we tried to extort money from a woman, and sent someone
to threaten her in a hands on way?” He grabbed the smaller man and
raised him up to speak to him. “Do we send in fuckers to rape them
and kill her fuckin’ pet? Is that what we do? Do we leave hand
sized bruises on her body, Leech? If that’s what we do you can have
this fuckin’ patch and I’m outta here.”

He released Leech after setting him back on
his feet, and turned to Baron. “You are the Prez, I got mad respect
for you and the brothers, but the fucker who raped and beat Stevie
is mine, I find him, and God is the only one that will save the
motherfucker from the reaper. You can tell that pussy cocksucker
that for me. Anyone looking to stop me will have to stand in a
fuckin’ line, I’m going hunting, any of those Rats get in my way?
Collateral damage.”

He turned to leave the room and was knocked
in the jaw with enough force to rock him on his feet. Leech came at
him and John held up his hand to stop him from stepping closer.
“You got one free, I’m too fuckin’ pissed to keep my temper in
check, and you pushed the wrong damned buttons. Hit me again and
I’ll hurt you, it’s even as far as I’m concerned.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? I like
Stevie too, but I wasn’t told to begin with that she was hurt, you
didn’t say a damned word about it. Next time you lay hands on me
it’s on, buddy, I don’t take that shit from no one, not you, not
anybody. You know damned well we don’t hurt women like that.”

John nodded, and left the room.

Baron grinned at his friend. “You hit like a
girl, that little bitch slap was like a love tap to a brother like
John, I was afraid I was going to have to step in between him and
your broken ass.”

Leech shook out the hand he’d used to punch
the man. “That fucker’s jaw is like a damned rock.” He sat down,
still flexing his fingers, “He’s got it bad for little Stevie. She
must be special to him, I’ve never seen him so deadly intent on
getting his hands on someone. If it was anybody but one of the
Swamp Kings, I might say give them a heads up that he’s a lethal
fucker, but I think I’ll let them find out for themselves.”

Baron nodded, “Yeah, about that. They won’t
give up the son-of-a-bitch. I’ll warn Ol’ Pappy D, but that is all
he gets, they know where the lines are drawn on the southern
boundary. My money says they knew it was Breed territory, but
thought they could intimidate a lone girl. They couldn’t know it is
part of our empire. I’m about to explain it to them in small words
so they understand what I’m saying.” He punched in the numbers to
connect. “This is going to be interesting.”

By the time he finished talking to Pappy D,
he was shaking his head and wanting the drugged up fucker to run
across his path soon. He looked at Leech.

“Well you heard what he said. The reason I
put him on speaker is because you all think I’m shitting you when I
say talking to him is like talking to one of the gators in that
swamp those boys play in. Brains about the same size too. We might
have to deal in a harsher way with them this time, they have
ambitions.”

Leech nodded. “Yeah, ‘Causin’ we be in ta
ways of the Swamp Kings progress.” He mimicked the voice of Pappy
D. “I swear, man, it was all I could do not to laugh out while that
mumble-mouth tried to speak English. Damn shame he’s hiding in that
stinking swamp if you ask me.”

The two men shared a laugh, and Baron left
for home. Gunner and Stretch were already there. And he was looking
forward to sitting in his recliner after dinner and pulling her
little ass down onto his lap. The thought stayed with him as he
backed his bike out of the parking spot in front of the club.

Leech went into the bar and Myrtle set up his
favorite beer when she saw him headed her way. He took the barstool
next to Burger and gave him the rundown on their nemesis, the Swamp
Kings.

Tank, Skids, and Joker were hanging out
looking bored, so Leech and Burger walked over to a large table so
the others could be in on the conversation. The Swamp Kings, better
known as the Swamp Rats, were hated by the brothers in Lucifer’s
Breed.

Tank didn’t have a lot to say, the man was
almost as quiet as John normally was, but Skids made up for any
slack in the vocal denouncement of the Swamp Rats. “We should’a
capped all of them blue balled jug fuckers last year when we had
the chance.”

They all agreed that it was going to take
more than a polite request for the Rats to sacrifice one of their
own.

Tank started smirking, and began to laugh.
That was unusual enough, but his plan to deal with the Rats was
perfect.

“How about we catch a few of those ol’ boys
and keep them as guests for a while? Torment them sons-a-bitches,
keep ‘em blindfolded and scared. I can see them now, gather them in
the blocks, keep ‘em chained like dogs, and wait ‘til someone
notices they’re gone. It shouldn’t take long, maybe a week or
so.”

Burger was rubbing his moustache and
thinking. “Easy enough to do, the little fuckers think respect is
just a word they ain’t heard before. They’re always in town causing
shit with people. We feed them good while we have them, tell them a
man should have a full belly before he gets dead. They’re mostly
dopers anyway, won’t eat much, ‘specially when we slip one or two
out of the mix, and his buddies think they got the bullet that’s
coming to them.”

Leech grinned and laughed. “You are some sick
motherfuckers, makes me proud to ride with you. What say we go find
our first Swamp Rat?”

They got up and headed for the door leaving
the table full of empties and a few scattered people wondering what
that pack of jokesters were up to.

*****

John left the club and went home to take care
of a few things before he went back to the bar. His place was in
the middle of twenty acres of hardwoods, rocks, and wildlife. This
was his sanctuary when people became too fucking much for him to
deal with. Knowing he planned to bring a stranger here made him
pause while slapping the clip in his favorite Colt Semi Auto .45
cal. It was an original, and there had been times it had kept him
alive since he bought it from an old timer shortly after he got
stateside from the Middle East.

“You dumbass, you had to wait and see what
she needed. You always have to find where you fit, and you found
it, too fuckin’ bad you had to drag ass until she’d been hurt to
man up.” Berating himself just added fuel to the deadly thoughts he
was having. The more he thought, the colder the intent.

He secured the clip and added two extras to
his shoulder rig. He’d made it especially for his body, mainly
because no one manufactured what he was looking for. The daggers in
his boots were checked and the throw down was taken outside to run
a round through before going into his saddlebags. He’d hate to
leave it behind, it was a sweet little .380, but as far as a weapon
for practical use, his hands were way too big to use it
comfortably. He had others, but this one he’d already taken it to
the grinding wheel and removed the serial numbers. The bullets were
wiped clean before he slipped them into the mag. In fact, every
centimeter of the gun was clean, no prints.

He looked around the place before he left.
The logs were hand hewn and he’d built the entire place almost
exclusively by himself. When he needed help, he’d called in a favor
from Tank, Baron, Lonnie, and Gunner. They were the only people who
knew about this place. He didn’t spend much time here, most of the
time he lived in the bungalow down the block from the garage.

He mounted up and started hunting. It was six
thirty and full dark, but the darkness didn’t bother him, he
embraced the feeling of wind on his face and it pissed him off that
he had to wear the brain bucket required by the law in this state.
He was flying his colors and drove down to the state line hang out
where bikers from both sides of the state lines bent elbows. There
were fights almost nightly, but there were times a man had to feel
alive, and at times like that, this was the best kind of place to
go for the fight he was looking for.

Tonight he wasn’t looking for a fight, he was
looking for one asshole, and he would find him, no matter how many
fuckers went down between now and then.

As he’d expected, the parking lot was
crowded. The place was a dive, but it was clean, and the beer was
cold. The bouncers at the door looked close when he walked up and
nodded. They nodded back at him, and he entered the darkened room.
There was a band tonight situated behind chain-link fencing, and
the sight triggered a memory about a band singing behind a fence,
with a rowdy crowd throwing everything from vegetables to beer
bottles at the fencing.

At first glance, he didn’t spy any Swamp
Kings and was disappointed. Those fuckers were putting him to more
trouble than he wanted to deal with, but once he found them, life
was gonna be fucked up for those he picked for fun and games.

He made his way to the bar and signaled the
skimpily clad bitch who was flirting with a beefy motherfucker
wearing a Burning Bastards cut.

She turned to look at him and he saw she’d
been scrapping with someone. The black eye and scratches on her
cheek were hard to miss. She came over to him and gave him an
admiring look. She got the look that some women get when they were
attracted to him. He had to admit she was good at that look,
probably got her a lot of tip money to pay for the arnica oil based
cream to heal her bruises and wounds.

“Well hello there, big man, what can I
getcha?”

Damn, her voice was so high pitched that it
almost hurt his ears, the bitch sounded like a cartoon mouse with a
lisp. He ordered a Miller Lite and waited for her to give up on
enticing him into buying her a drink. She had nice tits, and the
butt cheek shorts she wore showed her body enough to entice any
man. Fuck, too bad Stevie was stuck in his brain, ‘cause this one
was right up his alley.