บท 3: Zero
I speed up the incline at seventy miles per hour, my bike is killing it. The smell of burning rubber is doing no justice to the actual heat my Harley’s taking. If the cops flashed me now, I'd be fucked. Not only did I leave my license back at the room we’re staying in, but the club has no jurisdiction in DC.
The old deputy, Willis was shot a few weeks back. Although the bullet grazed him, he took his family up North for some desk job. The Prez didn't wanna bust the man's balls. We don't even have a chapter this side and hardly spend time in DC to really care enough to bribe him to stay.
The women wouldn't stop nagging about seeing the new club that opened up tonight which is the only reason we're here now.
I was in no way driving 23 hours so they could dance in some club because some punk-ass Rockstar was attending.
My first vote was no but Chadley talked my woman, Falon into going.
I waited for her to say something, but she didn't.
One of the new prospects, Den brought it up the next day after church. He publicly announced Falon was joining the girls. I was fucking angry. She didn't say shit when I asked about it again the same night.
I understood that she wanted to keep us quiet because her dad was the President. The man and I served two tours together.
But keeping stuff from me was not something I was going to take, which was why I decided to say fuck-it to all her plans and tell the guys. The sooner I claimed her ass the better my life would be.
When I showed up the morning, they were due to leave, I could tell Falon was surprised. I waited to see if she would get on another brother’s bike so I could disfigure the fuckers face. But one thing about Falon, she knows when not to push her luck.
She jumped behind me without a second thought. I was thrilled, but still too pissed. Which is why when we got to the hotel, I didn't book a room for myself. I doubled with Storm, our VP.
Unlike my other brothers, Storm knows about Falon and me. He doesn't like keeping it quiet, and always gives me shit when we're alone. Neither the fuck do I, but I do it for Falon, surprisingly Storm is doing it for me.
Falon is a petite 26-year-old, with a few heartbreaks, nothing too serious from what she's let slip.
I’m a 31-year-old man with a fakuva lot of baggage. But I didn't want her at the back of another brother’s bike, so angry or not, here I was.
It didn't mean that we were okay. Right now, however, I wish we were.
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 anything, 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, lying 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 my 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 makeup 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 guy's cold hand and lay the gun next to him as the back-door swings open.
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