Page 9 of Kings Have No Mercy
One month later…
A purrin my ear wakes me up. Followed by the rake of nails down my back.
“Wake up, baby,” coos a voice. “I want to suck that big cock of yours.”
My eyes open with a throbbing ache in my skull and blurry memory of last night. The club party had gone on for hours. Standard for our get-togethers. I had been good for most of it. Drank a little and played some cards. Mostly, I stood on the sidelines and planned with some of the guys for today.
I remember nothing else. But I must’ve gotten fucked up.
I already know the bitch in my bed without looking over my shoulder. I do it anyway and almost groan.
I wasn’t just drunk. I had to be all the way fucked up to bring Sandie to my bed.
She smiles at me, dry mascara flakes on her cheeks and faded lipstick on her lips. She’s not, and never has been, a beauty, but after one too many, she must’ve started looking like old-school Pam Anderson. Bleach blonde hair and bolt-on tits and all.
In the light of day, she’s her distant ugly cousin.
“How about it?” she asks. She drags her talons down my back again. “You know I’m good.”
That part’s true.
Sandie's a decent fuck. She’s a hangaround. Just some desperate chick that’s fucked most of the guys. I’m not worried she’s gonna expect anything—damn sure no title—but Iamworried about my dick.
The bitch could’ve given me something. I’m no saint by any means, but I’m usually more selective in the girls I bang.
“Get out of my bed.”
“But Mace—”
“I won’t tell you twice. Get the fuck out.” I push her taloned hand off me and get out of bed. I don’t give a fuck that I’m naked as the day I came into this world.
This is my place, and I need to take a leak. I’ll walk around with my dick swinging any time I want. Sandie's the one that doesn’t belong.
She tries to follow by jumping up and coming with me to the bathroom. I stop out of nowhere and turn around. She almost bumps into me. Her eyes grow wide at the look I give her.
“I said get the fuck out. Right now.”
“Mace… Mace!”
I grip her by the upper arm and start for the door. She struggles and sticks her feet in the ground. Her clothes are still discarded somewhere in the room.
It doesn’t matter to me—maybe next time she’ll learn to get the hell out the first time she’s told.
I open the door and shove her into the hall. The door slams in her face, drowning out her pleas to suck my dick again.
If she’s lucky, she’ll come across Velma downstairs and she’ll grab her a t-shirt and some bottoms.
I’ve got more important shit to worry about. Like my splitting headache and what’s supposed to go down in a couple hours.
Relations between the Steel Kings and Hellrazors have never been this bad. It started weeks ago when the Hellrazors shot up the home of one our own, Rhett “Bush” Bushman. They pulled up in a big truck in the dead of night and sprayed bullets into his trailer in what was an act of war.
In retaliation, we killed one of theirs. Some low-level guy named Curly. The Hellrazors responded by intimidating several of our club prospects, going so far as to batter one of them and land them in the ER.
Tensions have been escalating fast ever since.
Today’s the day I’ve been waiting for. The day I get my revenge and the day that marks the start of a new chapter in the club.
My first day as acting prez. I promised Tom I’d handle things. He didn’t have to worry behind bars.