Rise to Power (Motorcycle Club Romance) (Dead Men Motorcycle Club) Read online

  Instead, he opened his hand and the gun fell from his fingers with a soft clatter on the forest floor. I could hear the sigh of relief from all around me, but I could hardly believe it myself. Was this really what was happening? We were going to let Jarhead go after everything he did. I couldn’t wrap my mind around it.

  “San Viero’s going to hear everything,” Jarhead said, staring directly at Martin.

  “They’re going to hear everything from me,” Martin replied.

  I felt it all boiling up in my face. After everything we’d gone through, civil war might be inevitable. Would San Viero side with us or would they side with the vetted and experienced leader of the Dead Men that had made them so welcome only a couple days ago. I thought back to everything I knew about Cash, the president of the club, and made my decision.

  The sudden wave of relaxation that had spread through the crowd made them utterly unprepared for what happened next. I picked the gun off of Martin’s hip and pointed it at Jarhead. Without a second of hesitation and with only the thought of Janie’s dead body in my mind, I pulled the trigger. The shot echoed through the forest to the collective gasp of everyone present, Martin included.

  Jarhead fell backwards and never got up again.

  CHAPTER 11

  THE RIDE BACK TO the clubhouse was silent, save for the roar of motorcycles all around me. I held tightly against Martin, trying my hardest to take in the scent of leather and masculinity that had always been such a soothing balm to my soul. None of it seemed to hold me though. My thoughts were focused on the last moments of Jarhead’s life. Everything had seemed to slow down when I pulled the trigger. Though the small explosion of blood from his chest and his fall to the ground had happened in only the space of a second, for me it seemed to last an eternity.

  I replayed it in my mind again and again, trying to decide if I’d made the right choice. By the laws of the Dead Men, I knew that I had. Jarhead had killed Janie and he had to suffer for it. But there were rules about these sorts of things. There were votes that had to be taken. Add to that the fact that I was just a girlfriend, not a member, and things grew steadily murkier.

  Just before I killed Jarhead, Martin had told him he was free to go. I knew now that he had meant it. Was I damning myself with my action or was I saving him? Could the Dead Men ever respect a leader that refused to kill the man who had been responsible for death, torture and the near destruction of the club? I told myself that they’d never accept him if he’d let Jarhead go. I told myself that Jarhead would have come back looking for revenge eventually. No matter how many times I thought these things, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was trying to rationalize something very wrong.

  I’d never taken anyone’s life before that day. I’d gotten in a few fights, but always against other women and never with any guns involved. There hadn’t even been a fight this time. What I did would be considered cold blooded murder to any court in the country. I never feared that possibility, knowing that Jarhead’s body wouldn’t be found and that both Mako and the Dead Men were sworn to a greater code that was more powerful than any by-law. Bikers stick together when the rest of the world comes knocking. The punishment that would be suffered by any man stupid enough to go running to the cops over something like this would make what happened to Jarhead look merciful.

  All around me were the remains of our club and the Mako riders who had come to assist us. I turned my head and saw Joseph riding directly beside us. His bike was a marvel of engineering and probably cost more than the four remaining Dead Men’s bikes put together. Despite the flash and his bravado, I could tell that Joseph was shaken. While some of the others rode with wide smiles, enjoying the smell of victory on the wind, Joseph was close-lipped and stared at the horizon.

  To the other side was Rik. He was calm as well, but I could tell that it was relief that he was saddled with rather than the burden of fear. I hadn’t known what to make of him before that day. He was always loyal and never laughing. Something had changed in him now, though. Though his mouth was still screwed into the same tight expression it always was, I could see the laughter dancing behind his eyes. Without Jarhead and Ripper, he’d found a new sense of freedom. He’d tapped into that primal thing that motorcycle clubs are always searching for.

  And then there was Martin. He was my rock. He never yelled at me or demanded anything of me. When Jarhead went down he quickly took the gun from my hand and put his arm around me. Even in that terrible moment, his first concern was for me. That’s something I couldn’t have counted on before that fateful day. Afterwards, it was the foundation on which I could build a whole new life.

  He didn’t miss a beat back at the cabin. He directed the Dead Men and Mako alike when it came to disposing of the bodies. Jarhead and Ripper were buried beneath the cabin. Janie was given a plot on the other side amongst a small grouping of wildflowers. Part of me wanted to protest – to demand that we bring her back with us so that we could deliver her to Oakland. I knew there was no time for that, though. A dead body raises questions and we needed to leave no tracks behind. Without Jarhead and Ripper, this place could fall into disrepair until it was reclaimed by the forest. Someday, maybe someone would find the place and the small cross we buried her beneath.

  I wasn’t the only killer that day. Martin had saved me with his brutal assault on Ripper. He told me afterwards that he barely remembered doing it. He came into the cabin as soon as the clubs arrived and saw Ripper on top of me, his ears full of my screams. He grabbed a piece of scrap metal nearby and used that, fearing that if he shot that the bullet would hit me instead.

  I was glad that his memory was spotty. I had to contend with my own thoughts of taking a man’s life. I didn’t need both of us reviewing the events of that night in our minds forever – though the possibility was still strong. Martin had done what needed to be done. He’d taken control of the club and he’d saved me from the hands of an awful man and his awful friend. He’d held us all together with sheer force of will, and I could never forget it.

  I hugged tightly around him as we rode and he put one hand against mine. There were no words, but the touch of his powerful fingers against mine was all the reassurance I needed that it was finally, truly over.

  We made our way back to the clubhouse. When we got there, all but two of the Mako riders continued off towards the docks. Joseph and his lieutenant – a short man called Magnum – stayed behind. We were in no position to offer less than our finest hospitality, and invited him inside.

  When we walked in, Misty was there to greet me. I had to pry her off of me with both hands, explaining that I was hurt and that she was showing her enthusiasm a bit too roughly. She composed herself just in time for Hector to enter. I redirected her affections towards him and she leapt at the opportunity. There was romance budding there, and something about those two young souls finding each other felt like a new beginning. Hector was more than happy to receive her affections and the rest of us fell into the clubhouse chuckling about it.

  Martin and I sat down on one of the couches with Joseph sitting across from us. A trio of beers quickly appeared before us and I couldn’t have been happier to see them. After everything I’d been through that day, a cold drink was at the top of my list of priorities.

  Once I’d had a moment to relax myself and remember what it felt like to be comfortable I looked across to Joseph. He was drinking his beer in silence, staring down at the table between us.

  “Thanks for the help,” I told him.

  He looked up with a confused expression on his face that I hadn’t anticipated.

  “I should be thanking you,” he said, setting his drink down. “Both of you. I didn’t… he came out of nowhere.”

  “It’s alright,” I said, trying to reassure him. Of what, I wasn’t sure.

  “No, you did something for me tonight that I couldn’t have expected,” Joseph said. “When I met the two of you, I thought you were just kids playing at a grown-up game. You’ve got steel and fi
re in you, though. I have to respect that.”

  Martin chimed in, ensuring that we didn’t get lost in complementing each other. “The Dead Men are here to stay and we’re only getting stronger. Just remember that.”

  “I will,” Joseph responded. “And let’s call that tribute five percent, alright? You earned it.”

  Martin and I both sat back against the couch with a grin. We had everything we needed to begin growing again. The threats were neutralized and we were safe. In the end, everything had blown up in our faces and we’d gotten everything we wanted out of it. If the price of the club’s safety was the bruised conscience of one woman and one man, so be it. That was a burden that we would gladly shoulder.

  EPILOGUE

  THE CELEBRATIONS THAT FOLLOWED had a far more somber tone than those which had preceded the kidnapping. Though our victory was complete and the only threats to the club had been neutralized, the hard price which had been paid was never far from our minds. It felt right that our first phone call was to Oakland rather than San Viero. Hector knew a few names from the bay area and was able to get us in touch with Janie’s boyfriend.

  He was crushed, of course. He seemed to find solace in the knowledge that the murderer had died only hours later at our hands. The truth was, we didn’t know at whose hands it had happened. Whether Ripper or Jarhead had been the one that struck the blow seemed immaterial. In the end, both of them had died for the crime and both of them deserved it.

  There was talk of mentioning Gina while we searched for the number of Peasant Motors in San Viero – the clubhouse of the founding chapter of the Dead Men Motorcycle Club. In the end, everyone agreed that it was best not to mention her. Wherever Gina was laying her head that night, she would have enough trouble coping with her own nightmares. The hand she’d played in the capture and in Janie’s death was minor, I argued. As none of the others had been around to dispute my account of things, they agreed to leave her out of it.

  Explaining the new hierarchy of the Northern California chapter of Dead Men to Cash was a challenge, but in the end he accepted what we had to say. There were assurances that no retribution would fall on us for what had happened and that Martin would be accepted as the new leader of the chapter. He even said that he would consider another ride up north in a few weeks as a bit of a refresher on the “new” chapter. “After all,” he said, “I didn’t really get to meet the leader last time through.”

  When all of the business was dealt with, Martin and I returned home. Neither of us was feeling particularly amorous, and that was just fine by me. In truth, my whole body ached not just with the pain of my capture but with the crawling feeling that Ripper was still upon me. After a warm shower and another beer, I was feeling more like myself.

  I had Martin’s warmth next to me as we drifted into sleep. For the first time in longer than I could remember, I closed my eyes without dread of opening them the next day. We’d accomplished so much in just a short time. There was still work to do, but it was the kind of work you’re happy to set your mind to.

  In the morning, I woke up with sunshine falling across my face. I was in my own bed and the sound of birds chirping outside seemed somehow all too tranquil considering recent events. All the same, I smiled. Martin found me in bed and presented me with breakfast. He was never much of a cook, but the thought counted for a lot.

  “Come on,” he said after I’d finished eating. “We’ve got a road ahead of us.”

  I dressed and followed him to his bike. I gave it a moment of inspection before mounting it, running my hand over the chrome.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  “Everything feels different,” I told him. “This isn’t just another bike, now. This is a chapter president’s bike.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I wonder where I get my new patch, anyway?”

  We both laughed at that. Our success at winning the club for ourselves was haunted by the possibility that we were unprepared for the challenge. Even so, we were looking forward to being tested in that way. Martin had a capability inside of him that had been proven time and time again. Now we would get a chance to put his name on a legacy that would span Northern California.

  We rode out north on the old road. I knew where he was going long before we arrived and hugged myself close to him as the pavement flew beneath us. When the tall grass came into view, I smiled and couldn’t stop. It had been only a day since we’d last visited our special place, but it seemed like a year. It felt like we were walking through that field on new legs and seeing everything with new eyes.

  Beneath our tree, he kissed me and I felt the relief you can only know when you’ve truly been saved. Demons haunted our footsteps, but in front of us there was only the freedom of the road and the unstoppable joy of true love.

  About the Author

  Angelica Siren is an emerging, young erotica writer. She likes to write hot and passionate stories for everyone, but especially loves making them for fans of the strange and the unusual. Angelica Siren never shies away from a topic - no matter how taboo! When she isn't writing, she is probably sipping a hot latte or gathering personal "research" for future books (inspiration has to come from somewhere)!

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