Marek (Knights Corruption MC #1) (6 page)

The Reapers were growing in numbers, and while they weren’t as large, our charters spreading wide across the country, they were proving to be a massive pain in our ass.

While they took anyone willing to kill and move their product, we had a much more stringent process for accepting new members. You had to either be related or have grown up with someone in the KC before you would even be considered. If the person
was
from outside our inner circle, he had to prove himself loyal, sometimes taking years to be fully patched in.

Throwing open the door, Stone burst in with a wild look dancing in his eyes. As soon as he saw me, he hurried in my direction, his six-foot-two frame striding toward me with dire purpose.

“Fuck,” he exclaimed, his hands running through his disheveled dark blond hair. “Why the hell didn’t you answer your phone?” he asked, finally coming to a stop when he entered my personal space.

Pushing back from the table, I stood next to him, our eyes connecting while we silently passed information to each other. I’d come to read his expressions very well, and I knew something had just gone down.

A little too close to home.

Shaking my head slowly, I prayed it wasn’t something that called for us to spring into action, endangering us all before we had time to properly prepare for retaliation. Smaller clubs often gave us a problem here and there, but they were easily dealt with. Usually, it was one or two renegades who thought they were the shit, testing our power from time to time. And every time, we reminded them who the big dog was.

“What happened?” I grumbled, plopping back in my chair to better brace myself for what was gonna come flying out of his damn mouth. Taking his seat next to me, he spouted off the information he’d just been privy to, his words tripping over themselves he was speaking so fast.

“Mother fuckin’ Savages!” he blurted, hitting the table hard with his fist. “A few of those bastards dared to enter our turf and threaten us!” he shouted, his voice becoming louder with each barely controlled word. His eyes were wild, and I knew it was only a matter of time before my VP demanded we end this once and for all. Exert our power over those godless fucks.

“What happened, Stone? Tell me exactly what you know.”

“Some of ‘em came into The Underground earlier tonight, threatening to take us down one by one. One of them was certainly fucked out of his mind. That’s for sure. Not sure if it was some sort of drug or if the asshole is messed up in the head—crazy like.” He swirled his finger around in a circle by his ear.

Anger cut across my face, strong enough to force Stone back in his chair, putting some distance between the two of us. The fact that some of our enemies dared to set foot into a bar we owned infuriated me. No, that was too calm an emotion. Rage coursed through my veins, my heart picking up pace the more I thought of the balls those fuckers had.

“Where are they now?” I roared, the vein in my neck bulging strong enough for me to feel as if it were gonna pop through my goddamn skin. “Who was there when they came in?”

Before Stone answered, I shot out of my seat and raced toward the door, heading into the common area before my next breath. “Breck and Cut were there,” he responded, his voice closer as he quickly walked behind me to keep up. Purpose fueled my steps. I needed to have a full table, and I needed it now.

Whipping around to face Stone, I stepped closer and cocked my head slightly to the side. “Where the hell are they now?” His brow creased until he realized I was still asking about the men who dared to enter our bar.

“Our guys
detained
them in the back room.”

“Then let’s go,” I commanded as I led the way. “Trig,” I called out, walking past the bar. “Get everybody here pronto.”

His response was a simple nod.

“You seriously think you can walk into KC territory and come out alive?” Breck yelled, punching one of the assholes right in the face. The guy he was wailing on looked like he’d been to Hell and back, the far-off look in his eyes telling me he wasn’t all the way present. If I had to guess, I would say he was coked out of his mind. But then again, so were half of their crew.

Like I said, no rules.

The other two fucks were tied to a chair, the frightened look in their eyes telling me they had no idea what they’d walked into. They both looked to be no older than eighteen, probably following the guy Breck was beating on simply because they were trying to prove themselves. But they weren’t prospects. They were both full-fledged members, their cuts proving as much.

“Breck,” I called out, placing my hand on his shoulder to stop him from decimating the man’s face any further. If he knocked him out, we wouldn’t be getting any kind of information. The dark look in his eyes told me he wanted to kill the guy simply for breathing the same air as us. Breck was a bit of a wild card, following after his old man, Cutter. Both were loyal to a fault, but let them loose and they could cause a lot of damage. That’s where their similarities ended. Looking at both of them no one would guess they were related. While Cutter’s graying hair was cut close to his head, Breck wore his dark hair down to his shoulders, his shaggy beard a big contrast to his father’s clean shaven face.

“Why don’t we just shoot ‘em, Prez?” Cutter asked, circling around the enemy to intimidate them more than they already were. Figures the Savage Reapers would send in three weak assholes, knowing damn well they were replaceable if and when we chose to kill them. The only good thing was that they would probably sing like canaries if we pushed them hard enough.

I guess we’ll see.

We had the privacy of the office to deal with these guys, the bass of the music outside fueling my aggression.

“Why did you come in here tonight?” I asked calmly. A little
too
calmly, judging by the increased unease in their eyes. The guy Breck was messin’ with snapped his head to face his buddies and yelled for them not to open their mouths.

Hmm . . . Interesting.

“Well, we already know you threatened to take us out one by one,” I offered, leaning against the desk, crossing my ankles while my hands gripped the wood behind me. “So, tell me, how do you expect to do that? And why in the hell would you warn us about it first? Only thing I can figure is that you think we’re dumb enough to fall for that shit. So, what?” I asked. “Did you expect to flee and have us chase you down? Only to lead us into some sort of ambush?”

One of the younger guys’ eyes popped wide, and I realized I had my answer.

“Shut the fuck up!” their buddy yelled, louder this time to make sure there was no mistaking his instruction.

Nodding toward Breck, he curled his fist again and sent it crashing against the guy’s jaw, blood splattering over the guy next to him. The other two appeared to be unharmed, which only meant they went willingly when my men had grabbed them.

Had the roles been reversed, my guys would have been tortured, reinforcing yet again that although we were all bad men, we were nothing like the Savage Reapers. I would at least give them a quick death; I didn’t condone torturing unless it was absolutely necessary.

Pulling me back toward the corner of the room, Stone whispered in my ear, “What are we gonna do with ‘em?” Glancing between all three of them, I came up blank. I had no idea what I was gonna do, but I knew it had to be swift.

“Guess it depends on what they tell us, right?” I asked, stepping around Stone and walking back toward all the action. Standing directly in front of the one I thought would break first, I leaned over and placed my hands on the arms of his chair. He kept his head down, twisted to the side, probably hoping I would move on to one of his friends.

“Look at me,” I commanded, my face dangerously close to his. Shaking his chair, I spoke again. “If you don’t look at me and answer my questions, I’m gonna let my buddy here gut you like a fish.” Cutter stepped up behind me, twirling a large knife and smiling big. My threat was enough to make him obey, the soft quiver of his bottom lip telling me he would be a quick confessor.

Once his full attention was on me, I saw the guy Breck was beating shift in his chair. Just as he was about to open his mouth and say God knows what, my man snapped his head back with a powerful punch, knocking his ass out instantly.

“Now,” I grumbled. “Why did you guys come in here tonight, spoutin’ off at the mouth about taking down the KC?” Waiting not-so-patiently for his response, I pulled a switchblade from my pocket, snapped it open so the blade glistened bright and trailed it down the length of his thigh. His eyes followed my every movement, glancing up into mine before swallowing hard. No words left his lips, which only meant I had to show him I was serious. I hated doing this shit, but it had to be done.

Without further warning, I tapped his leg three times with the knife, then withdrew the weapon. His brows creased in confusion, but before his brain registered a response, I plunged the blade deep into his flesh.

The bellow which erupted from him was most expected from such a weak bastard. It was obvious there was no training on his part.

Never show weakness.

Never allow your enemy to see the threads inside you unraveling.

His breaths came in quick succession, his face paling the more he focused on the blade sticking out of his leg. I flicked the protruding handle and he screamed again, the pain agonizing enough for him to fall apart completely.

“Please,” he begged. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. Just . . . Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” I played with him.

“Don’t kill me,” he pleaded. Tears of fear coursed down his face and even though there was a twinge of sympathy for the weak fucker, I knew I couldn’t let him live. I knew his club had sent him, sent them all here, not expecting them to live. They knowingly sacrificed some of their members, and if they returned, it would be detrimental to my club.

Show no weakness.

Pulling the knife from his thigh, I leaned in close so there was no mistaking his fate. “I can’t let you live, boy. But I
can
promise you a quick death if you tell me what you know.” The glaze in his eyes told me he was petrified, but he should have known this was going to be the outcome, right? Didn’t he know whose territory he was entering? Hadn’t his club warned him?

He continued to beg for his life, the guy next to him joining in when they realized their clock was about to run out.

“Man up, you pussies!” Breck shouted, his irritation coloring his face a light shade of red. “Die with some sort of goddamn dignity.”

Surprisingly, my man’s words stopped the flow of theirs, although their faces continued to give way to their obvious fear, glancing back and forth between all of us, just waiting for the end.

“Let’s try this again,” I prompted, pushing back a strand of hair which had fallen over my eye. “Why did you come into our bar tonight?”

A few seconds passed before the injured one spoke up. “We were told to lure as many of you out of the bar as possible. We knew our threats were enough to entice you to chase us,” he sputtered, looking over to Breck before reining in his trembling expression. It was almost as if he were trying to prove to us that he was manning up.

“Who gave you the order?”

I thought there would have been some sort of hesitation, at least to prolong the inevitable, but he gave up the answer before his next breath. “Our prez.”

Psych’s audacity surprised me, although it shouldn’t have. His name said it all. He’d earned the road name simply because he was unpredictable, his psychotic tendencies ruling his daily existence. There was no code the snake lived by, but one would have thought he would have been a little less obvious with his plans.
Or did he honestly think we were dumb enough to fall for it?

“Why?” I walked back toward the desk to put some distance between us.

The boy’s face paled, the loss of blood seeping from his wound taking a quick toll on him. Or it could have been that he knew he was gonna meet his maker very soon.

“He said the war . . . The war between us and the Knights was gonna en-end soon,” he stuttered, “The bl-blood of your men coating the streets would seal our position with the cartel once and for all.”

“Fucking hell,” I cursed, stalking forward. “This has to do with the trade with the cartel?” I asked the question although I already knew the answer. Our feud had everything to do with drugs, territory and money—for them. For us, it was about revenge for what they’d done to our men for all these years.

Little did they know I was trying to get us away from the drugs, but I guessed that didn’t matter too much now.

“Cutter.” I gestured with a quick jerk of my chin. “Help Breck dispose of these three, then drop them off in front of their club.” Locking eyes with the boy I’d stabbed, I finished with, “And make sure they receive a quick death. After all, I did promise as much.” The boy’s head hung in defeat, his conscious buddy expelling his fear with short cries. The other man was out cold, and I guessed it was for the best. If one was going to their death, better to not see it coming, right?