Marek (Knights Corruption MC #1) (7 page)

Marek

I contemplated many things on the ride back to the compound. Ways to make our enemies pay for all they’d done, focusing more on Psych and the men he kept close. The roar of my bike helped calm me while thoughts of murder danced inside my head. I’d like to say I wasn’t a violent man by nature, but it was how I was conditioned all my life, although I wasn’t like most leaders. I didn’t
crave
the kill. I didn’t
live
for it, allowing it to rule every fucking move I made.

I killed only when and if I needed to.

My men knew we were on our way back, so it was no surprise when the large metal gate which protected the compound swung open upon our arrival. Nodding at Jagger, one of our best prospects, my bike roared on through, followed by Stone, Cutter and Breck. Everyone else had been gathered and was anxiously waiting for us in Chambers.

This is gonna be a long night.

“Why are we waitin’ so long to attack?” Zip shouted, pounding his fist against the thick oak of our meeting table, rattling the gavel enough to jump and crash back down onto the wood surface. At just twenty years old, Zip had a fierce temper, one which should have only been warranted from someone who held a few more years of age and experience. From what I could gather, he’d had a pretty shitty upbringing, his father a KC rat who was disposed of after his deception had come to light. He’d been drugged out of his mind for years, hence the set-in-stone rule that none of my men were allowed to use. Couldn’t ever trust a junkie. Zip’s mother was a club whore who just got mixed up with the wrong guy. None of us really knew exactly what happened surrounding her death, but there were rumors that she was killed soon after her rat of a man. Even though she technically died in a car accident, there were thoughts it was simply a cover-up. My father had run the club during that time, and he never spoke about either one of them after they ceased to exist.

The club rules were a little different when my father was president, but when I took over, I made sure to ingrain in each and every one of the members that we were never to kill women or children, and we certainly didn’t dispose of a fellow brother until we had irrefutable proof, which, thank God, wasn’t an issue. All my guys were loyal to me and to their fellow brothers, Zip being right at the top of that list. I think he tried even harder than the rest because he didn’t want anyone to think he was anything like his old man.

His dark hair was slicked away from his face, his green eyes glistening in anger and fueling a few of the other men’s need for retaliation. His slight build became rigid while he waited for an answer.

“Zip,” Stone warned, standing quickly and leaning over the table, his dark eyes threatening Zip where he sat. “Calm down and show some goddamn respect.”

Raising his hands in a display of surrender, Zip turned his head toward me, breaking away from Stone’s fierce gaze. “Sorry, Prez, I just wanna get those fuckers already. Enough is enough.”

I didn’t take any offense to his outburst—I had my VP for that. Relaxing in my chair, I nodded at Zip before turning my focus back on the men surrounding the large oblong table. I really did have a great group of fierce, take-a-bullet-for-you, crazy-ass motherfuckers.

“We have to wait until we hear they’re all there together. You know damn well,” I said, my eyes falling back onto Zip, “Psych and his VP, Rabid, are hardly at the same place at the same time. No, we have to take them both out so their club is left in shambles.” Glancing back to Stone, a hard look set on his face, I finished my spiel. “We wait.”

Killing those bastards was at the forefront of my agenda, but just in case we failed, I had another plan in place. A plan which was carefully being orchestrated with someone even more powerful than me.

All in due time.

Throwing down the gavel, I left no room for argument. Our meeting was done. My word was law, and even if a few of them didn’t agree, they didn’t show it. I welcomed everyone’s input, but once I had my say, there was to be no more discussion on the topic.

“Let’s go get us some pussy!” Hawke yelled, following Ryder and Trigger from the room. Lucky for him, and for all of us, Edana was two states away visiting her mother.

A loud crash out front drew all of our attention. We’d only been two hours into an impromptu ruckus when the shit started to go down. Men scattered, yelling and reaching for their closest weapon of choice. Running toward the secured entrance of the clubhouse, some of the men waited to be ordered outside to find out what the hell was going on. Stone followed behind me as I walked into our surveillance room, staring at all the cameras to find out who or what was behind the loud noise. Each screen turned up blank, no activity as the camera slowly turned from side to side. We saw our bikes all lined up in a row, the lot otherwise empty, the door of our garage pulled shut, and the large metal gate, which kept us securely inside. Something quickly moved past the gate, a dark shadow passing in front of the camera before we could identify it.

Everything was all clear except for the ghost we’d seen on camera.

Headlights illuminated the lot before backing up from the gate, something falling to the ground in front of the car before it sped off. Running toward the front door, I pushed past my VP and reached for the handle.

“Marek, NO!” he shouted, but his plea fell on deaf ears. A sinking feeling gutted me, but I had no idea why. I couldn’t see who had crashed into our gate, nor the body who was dumped on our property. But I knew it wasn’t good.

There was a lot of commotion surrounding me as I stalked toward the gate, the compound security lights suddenly flooding the area so we could all see better. With every step I took closer, my heart picked up its pace and rammed against my chest. My adrenaline pumped through my veins and my vision became cloudy. At first, I only saw a crumpled male body, but the closer I stepped the more I could make out. He was certainly one of ours, his cut showcasing our club’s emblem of a skull with a sword slicing through it. His short hair was greased with blood, his head turned to the side so I couldn’t see who he was.

Yet.

Quickly scanning the street to make sure we weren’t gonna be ambushed, I shouted, “Open the fucking gate!”

The slow creak of the metal was infuriating, my pulse quickening the longer it took to reach the man who’d been dropped off as a warning. I knew by who, but had to make sure before I lost my shit once and for all.

Gurgling sounded from the bloody man’s throat and I breathed a sigh of relief, although it was short-lived once I turned him on his back. His pulse was weak, and it was only a matter of time before he exhaled his last breath. There was so much blood it was hard for me to see where his wounds were.

“Let me take a look,” I soothed, the tremor in my voice certainly betraying my faux calm tone. His arms fell away from his stomach, his hands hitting the pavement beside him with a heavy thud. I lifted his shirt and saw he’d been shot four times, the holes gaping and seeping blood faster than was safe, although being shot just once wasn’t safe. He was gonna bleed out right in front of us, and I still couldn’t identify him.

When I finally turned his head, familiar eyes met mine, and I about had a heart attack.

I knew him.

We all knew him, although we hadn’t seen him in years.

The bloody man I was staring at was none other than Hawke’s older brother, Tripp. He’d joined our nomad charter four years earlier. Not belonging to any one charter suited him just fine. A loner lifestyle was more his thing, even though he showed up every now and again to see not only his club brothers, but his blood brother as well. They were close, and I was waiting for shit to erupt as soon as Hawke realized his sibling was lying on the cold pavement, dying with each struggled breath.

“Who the hell is it, Marek?” Everyone crowded around while I tried to decide the best way to break the news to Hawke, while still doing my best to try and drag Tripp into the compound without further injuring him. I heard you weren’t supposed to move someone who was hurt, but was that when they’d been shot? Or was that when they’d hurt their neck? Goddamn it! Too many thoughts plagued me and before I could decide on one course of action, I saw the dying man’s younger brother approach, furrowing his brow the closer he came.

He stopped ten feet from us and looked shocked, his brain actively trying to compute just who he was staring at. The simple fact that he recognized his brother from that far away was amazing, seeing as how I had been up close and personal before I’d identified him.

When I finally lifted my head to meet Hawke’s stare, I gave him a simple nod, my indication that what he thought was true. It was enough to force him out of his own head, his legs bringing him to an abrupt halt once he’d reached us.

“Fuck!” he yelled, gripping his hair in fear. “What the fuck? Tripp?” he whispered, falling to his knees so his brother could hear him, if he was even still conscious. By his labored breathing, I wasn’t sure how much longer he was gonna last, and I sure as shit didn’t want his death on my hands simply because I had no idea what I was doing.

I knew we couldn’t act like normal people and take him to the emergency room. Because of the gunshot wounds, the police would be called right away, and there was no way we were willingly going to include those pigs in our business.

Hawke gripped his brother’s hand and held it in his lap, all the while watching me to give direction on what the hell we were gonna do. Time seemed to slow, the men’s shouts lessened to whispers with every agonizing second that passed. In reality, the action around me was a flutter of curses and shouts, people moving around us quickly to decide what the hell the best course of action was.

It was then, during my mini freak-out, that I remembered Trigger’s niece was a nurse. She’d helped us out quite a few times before and had done a bang-up job. No pun intended, of course.

“Trig!” I shouted over all the noise, whipping my head around and scanning the growing crowd to try and locate the one man I needed right then.

Pushing past Stone and Ryder, Trigger stepped forward, stopping to stand directly beside me. “What do you need?” he asked, obvious panic dancing in his voice.

Quickly glancing down into Tripp’s pale, ashen face, I whipped my eyes back to Trigger and mumbled, “You need to call your neice, man. Tell her it’s an emergency.” I inhaled a deep breath. “Tell her to get here now!”

A simple nod and he was hurrying back into the clubhouse, a few of the club whores, who’d come out to see what all the commotion was, following directly behind him. They knew enough to know that curiosity of club business would get them banned for life.

Kneeling on the ground and holding a lifeless brother’s body was gut-wrenching. No matter how many times I’d seen death, or impending death, up close, it never got easier. I thought I would have become numb to our way of life, but there was always an undercurrent of life pulsing through my veins. A hope for something better for not only me but for my brothers.

For my club.

A half hour later, I heard someone call out, “She’s here,” right before two bright headlights blinded me. We’d managed to carefully drag Tripp further into the compound, locking ourselves inside in case whoever had dumped him decided to return.