"I know you’re all aware of the issues on our borders, but for those who’ve been under a rock, here’s the long and short of it. Alexander Kozlov is a wannabe mob boss with a smooth mouth and enough money to throw around to build a bit of support. He’s been in the area for about five years, but only really started moving in the last year or so. When we first noticed trouble, I tried to call a meeting like a civilized motherfucker, but he’s too chickenshit to meet.” He picks up the beer and takes a drag from it.
"So what’s his plan?" Diesel, who's sitting on the back of one of the couches, speaks up. “Nibble at our ankles until we surrender?"
Eagle-eye nods. "Good question. It’s well known that we’ve got our rules, but that I don’t give a fuck how other people run their outfits so long as they stay in their lanes. But he’s squeezing the Ditch, and that’s too close for comfort. We need that space to keep South Side clean for our own fucking people. Kozlov doesn’t like to get his own hands dirty, but he’s good at convincing other people to do his dirty work. At this point he has the ears of enough thugs on the ground to be a threat. I’vehad Piston, Beast and Zero on point for this and they’ve talked to multiple businesses who’ve been pressured to support Kozlov.”
“Where’s Piston?” Lightening calls out. A few guys nod.
“He’s with their girl because yesterday she was targeted by Bloodmoney.” Eagle-eye pauses. "Who are working for… can we guess it?”
“Kozlov!” King calls out, earning a laugh from the crowd.
Our girl.
I cut a glance over to Zero who is doing the same back at me. Feels right. At this point, no one in the club raises a fucking eyebrow at the idea of multiple members connecting with a single girl, but I still don't know that I ever imagined that I'd be one of them. Of course, if I gotta share her with anyone, there's no one fucking better than Piston and Zero.
Preacher raises a hand. “We hitting back?”
“Nah, I thought I’d let it slide this time. Of course we’re fucking hitting back,” Eagle-eye roars.
The room cheers.
King puts his fingers to his lips and whistles. Everyone quiets down. “We happen to know where Kozlov’s going to be tomorrow. The local business association holds an annual gala at the Woodley Grand Hotel. It’s nothing new. Seats at the dinner cost a whack, and then a bunch of businesses pitch in with free shit and their services to auction off. The proceeds go to local charities. They usually pull in a couple hundred grand, but this year we’ve been told most of it’s going straight into Kozlov’s pockets and anyone who doesn’t agree, will find themselves the target of his thugs.”
"So what are we gonna do?" Viking asks, shirtless as always. He takes a swig from his beer. “Outbid him?”
Nitro shrugs. “Kidnap him on the way? Force a meeting?”
I stand. “I think that whatever we do, we need to do it soon. He’s already got too much influence and he’s happy to draw blood. Protection rackets, pushing our borders, spreading rumors about us being too distracted to deal with him. He’s not gonna stop being a threat until we get rid of him.” And just as important, to me at least, Sandra isn’t safe where she is so long as Kozlov is running free.
Eagle-eye nods. “I agree, but we need to do more than rattle Kozlov himself. We need to send a message to everyone who’s working with him or watching to see what happens. I want to make it crystal clear that if something is a threat, we put it the fuck down.”
"Alright then, what’re your orders, boss?" Shadow's taken a slice of wall together with Outlaw, but he pushes off to ask his question.
"Free up tomorrow night, boys." Eagle-eye grins. "We're going to the motherfucking gala."
26
SANDRA
My first real club party.Even from outside of the clubhouse, it’s already pretty wild. The music is pounding and lights flicker in the windows as people pass back and forth between them. For all the things I've done with the club, attending one of the infamous Screaming Eagles parties isn't one of them.
Beast, Zero and Piston have decided to rectify that.
Zero holds the door for me, and I step into the wildest crowd I've ever seen. Even back when I was partying like it was my full time job I never went to anything on this scale.
The times I've been brought through the common room, it's been daytime so the most I've seen are a couple of guys shooting pool while a couple of others have been on the couches in the back, watching the big screen TV mounted on the wall. Tonight, the regular lights are turned off, leaving a mix of stationary and slowly moving spotlights that make it possible to see what's going on, at least enough to move around. And there's a faint yellow glow behind the blinds of the office that overlooks the common room.
I don't think I've ever seen so many Screaming Eagles in one spot. And it’s not just bikers tonight. There are friends of the club, people from outside who’ve been invited, and sprinkled around the room are a bunch of women wearing not much more than glitter and an attitude. They are almost exclusively hanging off bikers, pressing up against them like arm candy, or full on making it obvious that they are up for whatever the guys are in the mood for.
Beast pulls me past a big biker with a thick beard who's lost his shirt somewhere along the way. He's making out with a thin slip of a woman, literally holding her off the ground while she has her arms wrapped around his powerful neck. I've done the same with Beast. I bet she's loving it. Her shirt slips up as we pass, revealing that her ass is completely bare where her biker’s hands aren’t holding. It must be pretty obvious I wasn’t expecting it because Beast chuckles as he leads me to the bar.
"Things can get a little wild, but everyone's into it." Zero leans in to speak in my ear over the music. "The sluts know the score. They don’t get that status until they’ve shown they can handle it, and in return they know we don’t put up with guests who can’t take no for an answer. The last guy who tried to push his luck ended up on the street holding his own balls."
I wince, but I don’t hate the message.
The bar is manned by a guy they call Chef, an older biker with a tight mohawk and a red dragon tattooed around the side of his head. He’s serving drinks with his old lady, Jewel, a pretty lady with deep purple hair to her shoulders. Chef bumps into her, and I've never heard anyone called an asshole so lovingly before, even over the loud music. I don't know them, but I've had them pointed out by the guys when we were passing by.
Beast gets Jewel's attention. "Hey. Three beers and something non-alcoholic for our lady."
