8: END GAME

“Are you ready for tonight?”

“No,” Phantom grunts.

He’s scheduled to meet with Cappellacci again, and this time one on one.

“Look, I know that you’re worried about taking Hadiyah with you to the club tonight. Don’t worry. Cappellacci has no idea we’ll be so close. If anything goes down, we’ve got your back, bro.”

He shakes his head. “I just can’t afford to lose another soul. Hadiyah looks to me for protection.”

Hadiyah’s one of the women that we saved from a sex trafficking ring over a year ago. She now works for me at Cloud 9, my dispensary. I’ve been watching Phantom whenever she’s around. He’s not an easy man to read, and he keeps his feelings close to his chest, almost never displaying any facial expressions other than a scowl.

Yet, when she comes around, he watches her closely, and I’ve noticed he’s somewhat protective of her. When he first learned she worked for me, he didn’t like it. Now, he’s always asking questions about her well-being and finding reasons to go to the breakroom whenever she’s back there. Probably the most telling indicator is that he spends more time at the dispensary than he ever did. He comes in three to four times a week now, different than his once-a-week visit.

“You won’t lose her. We’ll be there tonight to have your back if shit jumps off.”

“You shouldn’t have told Anarchy that she volunteered to go,” he grumbles.

“Look, dude. I did what I felt needed to happen. If she’s there, I’m sure your ass will tread lightly. Having her there means you’ll return to us in one piece.”

“Didn’t know you cared, honey,” Phantom says sarcastically, shaking his head.

“I don’t.”

“One day, there’s going to be someone you give a shit about other than yourself, End Game. When that person comes along, you’ll get it.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” I grumble, grabbing my bag and helmet as my thoughts veer towards Nova.

He grabs his things and follows me to the back door as we climb on our bikes.

“Not stopping for coffee and sugar tonight?” Phantom says with a smirk as he pulls his visor down.

Damn, I didn’t know that he knew about her. I guess he’s been watching me as closely as I’ve been watching him.

“Fuck you,” I reply, pulling my visor in place too.

Sneering, he asks, “She broke your heart or something?”

I don’t bother to respond but start my engine and take off. The sound of my straight pipes fills the air, and he falls right into line with mine only seconds later.

I’ve given her the space that she’s asked for, but it hasn’t been easy. I think about the woman when I can’t think of anything else. She’s got me drinking this damn chai latte coffee rather than my usual black, no sugar. Now I wonder how in the hell I ever drank that stuff in the first place.

I keep thinking of reasons to go into the store to buy a book or two, only she’s never around when I go. Maybe it’s for the best. Sometimes, I wonder if maybe she’s right.

Maybe I have been trying to recapture the past. Our past. She meant a lot to me back then, and she was the only thing that made sense for a long time. The only thing that felt right was home and family. She was my safety net even while she was claiming that I was hers.

Where she felt that I saved her life, she balanced me and made me whole. Gave me a reason to stay out of the streets and out of trouble. She was my future and my hope, whereas I’d never hoped for anything before. I knew life was a crap game, and it was full of shit. More often than not, I rolled snake eyes.

Should have known it was too good to be true even back then. We were so close to being out of that house, and I had planned on having a future with her, getting a good job and getting a place we could live together. The problem with that was nothing was happening fast enough, so I figured I’d up the ante and make sure it happened sooner rather than later.

Taking our future into my own hands did nothing but screw shit up for both of us. Now we’re in this same space again, but we can’t even have the opportunity we once dreamt of.

Phantom and I roar through the streets, leaving smoke and a trail of noise behind us. It’s not long before we pull up the long road that leads to the clubhouse. This is exactly where I need to be, getting lost in booze and pussy before our run later tonight.

The music is loud enough to wake the dead, as always. It’s certainly loud enough to wake the dead brothers in the graveyard at the rear of our land.

I nod at the Prospects manning the wrought iron gate as we pass through. A sneer crawls onto my lips as the skull with two fire-blazing guns crossing under the skull welcomes us home.

Lights beam from the five-story castle-like stone structure, which is the clubhouse, and there’s a Prospect at each of the turrets. Phantom blasts past me as I slow to a crawl at the clubhouse. He roars towards the rear of the property where the bunkhouses are housed.

Typical Phantom. He’s not a people person, and more often than not, Phantom can be found walking the grounds or meditating somewhere on the property if he isn’t in the bunkhouse or clubhouse. Cannon says that Phantom’s communing with the spirits when we find him near the woods staring off into silence.

I wasn’t around back then, but I know that he lost his sister when they were still teens, and she’s buried at the cemetery not far from those woods. I also know that Phantom and his sister were victims of sex trafficking, and they escaped their captors. It was the former VP, Rogue’s daughter, Duchess, who found them. She ran back and got her daddy and Anarchy’s dad, Tank, who was the Prez at that time.

Tank took Phantom under his wings and pretty much treated him as his own. From the stories I’ve heard, Phantom caught hell back then. Many of the brothers wanted nothing to do with him because he was a mixed kid, Asian and white, instead of one-hundred-percent white like themselves. Some of the brothers back then had fucked up views about how things should be and definitely didn’t approve of the mixing of races.

Thankfully, Tank was nothing like that, and he kicked ass when it came to Phantom. Unfortunately, their attention towards his sister veered in the opposite direction. Several of the brothers felt she should be treated like the Roses, free ass and property for all. Of course, Tank didn’t allow that to happen either, but still, he couldn’t save her life.

I climb off my bike and head inside, and I’m instantly hit by the Foo Fighters song Under You. It instantly triggers thoughts of Nova, and I’m reminded of how hard it was to get over her in our youth. At thirty-six, I’m not the same punk kid who made stupid choices and was a general asshole to all he encountered.

I may not be Prince Charming, but I’m damn sure not making the same stupid choices I once did. Whether they’ll send me to heaven or hell about my choices is not up for question, but I won’t be making the same fuck ups when it comes to women.

Someone presses a beer into my hand as I enter the clubhouse while someone else passes me a joint. I turn the beer up after I take a toke on the joint. My eyes narrow through the haze as I try to figure out what the hell I want to do.

I don’t wanna really be at the clubhouse, but I damn sure ain’t ready to return to the bunkhouse either. Going there will be filled with silence and my own shitty thoughts about how I screwed up when it came to Nova.

Just like I’ve changed, so has she. She says she’s not interested in a relationship or going down the path we once did. I get that. No sweat off my back. So, it’s a no-brainer when Tennessee saunters up to me what I should be doing.

“Hey, End Game,” she purrs, draping her arms around my neck.

I can tell she’s been drinking a little more than she should, but who am I to judge? She stays mostly sober the days that she works in Cannon’s bar, Jaded Lizard, but on her off days, she sometimes slinks to the bottom of the barrel.

Tennessee used to be a good girl, well, as good as a club whore can be. She was crazy about Cannon but damn near in love with Warrior. So much so that she risked almost getting killed by his Ol’ Lady, Hornet.

“What’re you doing here tonight?” I ask, wrapping my free arm around her waist before taking the beer to my lips.

“Trying to have fun, just like you.”

“Mm...surprised that you’d risk coming up here.”

“I’m not scared of Hornet, you know.”

Lifting an eyebrow, I reply, “Somebody busts me in the back of the head with a bottle and cuts me close to the carotid artery. I might not be scared, but I’d damn sure be watching my back. Woman left you in the hospital for over a week.”

“They should’ve charged her ass with attempted murder,” she sneers. “Anarchy covered that shit up.”

“Yeah, well, good, bad, right or wrong, she told you to quit fucking with her, Ol’ Man, or there might be consequences.”

She turns her lips down and then smiles up at me again. The dark eyeliner on her eyes is slightly smeared, and the mascara is clumping together on her upper left lash. At some point, I’m sure that Tennessee was a pretty girl, maybe close to beautiful, but the MC life can be a hard one. Without anyone to protect her and not being really close to the Roses either, Tennessee’s had her share of hard times. I often feel sorry for the woman.

“Are there any consequences for fucking with you?” she asks, licking her lips.

“None that I can think of lil’ darlin.”

She winks, tugs me by the hand and leads me to the rear of the pool hall to a booth. Our road captain, Whiz, Cyclone and Decker are sitting at a table not far away playing a game of cards. Women are draped all over them, and I know there’s gonna be trouble as soon as I see Decker’s Ol’ Lady Siren step inside the pool hall and look around.

“Sugar, you might wanna follow me upstairs,” I say, nodding my head to the upper loft area where there are a couple of guys up there with Roses.

“Why?”

“Storm’s brewing,” I say, jerking my head at Siren.

Tennessee glances at Siren and then at Stiletto, who’s sitting in Decker’s lap.

“Shit,” Tennessee mumbles as I tug her towards the steps, and we head upstairs.

I’ve just plopped my ass in a comfy leather chair with Tennessee at my feet when I hear the commotion down below. Closing my eyes, I take comfort in the feel of Tennessee’s cool hands pulling my dick from my boxer briefs. And when her hot lips close around the head and work their way down my shaft, I forget all about the fight that’s jumping off.

I push Nova and my confusing feelings about her out of my mind for the night.

“Tennessee,” I moan, grabbing a handful of her dark brown hair and wrapping it around my hand. I continue pushing her further and further down my shaft until she chokes on it.

Apologetic, watery eyes look up at me, seeking forgiveness, but my black soul doesn’t give a shit about anything or anyone at this moment.

Tennessee’s head bobs up and down, and her hands reach inside my briefs, juggling my nuts. I hear shouts down below that rival Slash’s guitar, Brain’s drums, and Axl’s vocals and piano on Guns N’ Roses Perhaps. Yet, none of that penetrates the fog of my brain as I grab more of Tennessee’s hair with my other hand and begin pumping my dick hard and furiously down her throat.

She gags again, but I don’t care as I slide to the edge of my seat. I pummel her throat, knowing that I’m fucking it raw, and she probably won’t be able to talk come tomorrow.

Standing up from the edge of my seat, I continue to shove myself deeper and harder and faster into her mouth until her mascara and eyeliner are completely ruined. Until tears flow freely and fast down her face like a stream.

Her fingers desperately reach out to massage my balls while I continue abusing her throat. When I calm down just a bit and pull back, she smacks her lips around my dick, sliding back and forth and up and down, coating it with saliva. Her smacks turn into a gentle hum which turns into a primal, guttural sucking until I can’t hold back anymore.

My movements shift to a slow and gentle rocking as I allow her to coax it out of me. When I cum, it rips right through me. I close my eyes, tilt my head back and let sheets of cum milk down her throat, basking in the gulping noises that she’s making until she’s relieved me of all the nut, all the tension, and all the sorrow that’s been hounding my heels since Nova sent me away.

When she finishes, I help her to her feet and zip my pants.

“You were rough tonight,” she says.

Shrugging, I reply, “Had a lot on my mind.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Not particularly.”

“A girl?”

Smirking, I shake my head and reply, “No. A woman.”

I head back down the stairs with the warm remnants of beer left in the bottle. I slug it back before tossing it into a nearby metal trash can and grabbing another cold one on my way out the door.

We don’t have that long before it’s time to escort Phantom and Hadiyah on their run to meet Martin Cappellacci at the club.

***

We never entered the club the way we expected to, kicking ass. Phantom and Hadiyah weren’t in the club for more than half an hour before they ran from the club and hopped on his bike. We all rolled out behind him, expecting a hail of gunfire, but nothing had happened.

We were summoned to Anarchy’s office as soon as we hit the clubhouse gates, and we’re gathered here now.

“He fucking disrespected her, Anarchy. Pointed a gun in her face,” Phantom says, a little too cool for my liking. “That’s when shit went down.”

“What the fuck happened?” Anarchy repeats.

As Phantom tells his story, my thoughts wonder to Nova. I’d lose my mind if someone did some shit like that to her. I can’t blame Phantom for what he did, but I know the shit will fall back on the MC.

“She killed him.”

I tune back into the conversation.

“She killed who?” Anarchy asks.

“While I was fighting off the other men, Cappellacci took advantage of my distraction and grabbed Hadiyah. I don’t know what he’d planned to do with her or to her, but I took the others down while she fought him off. As soon as I was free, I snuck up behind him, but it was too late. She shot Cappellacci.”

“Didn’t know she could shoot,” Raider mutters.

Phantom glances at Cannon and says, “She used the gun that Cannon and Roxie had bought her and taught her to use.”

I’m dumbfounded. “Damn, sweet little Hadiyah killed someone?”

Phantom glares at me.

Hadiyah’s only twenty-two, and she’s been through a lot in her short life. After watching her parents tragically killed in front of her and her sister, she was kidnapped and forced into a sex trafficking ring. She spent almost two years with her older sister in the ring before our MC saved her.

After that, she finally got a place of her own and started working at a diner before being assaulted two more times. I guess when a person is fed up, they get to a point where they’ll do anything to survive, including murdering a fucking mafia associate.

The ringing phone ends our conversation as Anarchy punches a button, still glaring at Phantom.

“What the hell just happened?”

I frown, wondering who the hell is calling Prez talking to him like that. Cannon catches my eye and mouths, “Aiello.”

Shit! The shit just got real. He’s a fucking consigliere in the mob, and he’s calling the Prez. Nothing good can come of this.

“It seems your man had some issues with Phantom. He personally requested him. Would you like to explain that shit to me?” Anarchy growls.

“Yes. He said that your man Phantom couldn’t be trusted.”

Aiello’s voice is too fucking cool for my liking.

“He’s a brother. He’s part of the Fiery Disciples. If you’re saying that you can’t trust him, then you can’t trust us. What information do you have personally that makes you say that?”

“I have six dead men because of him, so I don’t trust him either.”

“So, what are you saying, Aiello?”

The entire time, Anarchy’s gaze doesn’t break from Phantom’s, and I swear that I see a challenge in Phantom’s eyes. He’s not backing down on this one.

“I have some questions of my own. I’ll call you back and tell you where we meet. The time and the place.”

Aiello hangs up, and a thick, uncomfortable silence descends on the room.

“Are you gonna claim her now?” Anarchy asks Phantom.

Phantom gets off the couch and storms out of the office.

Raider and Cannon both stare at Anarchy as he shakes his head.

“What’re you gonna do?”

Shrugging, he replies, “Ain’t nothing I can do, cept wait to hear from Aiello.”

“Don’t sound like the best thing.”

“Yeah, Raider? You got a better plan?”

Our VP shrugs and shakes his head. “This is some shit.”

“Yeah, should’ve listened to Phantom in the first place. Shouldn’t have pushed him into this situation. Know he doesn’t do well when backed into a corner.”

Anarchy doesn’t respond to Cannon’s comment unless a snarl can be considered a response. And in our Prez’s case, I guess it can.

“Guess it doesn’t help that he’s got feelings for her,” I say.

“Who?”

That’s Cannon, Anarchy, and Raider.

“Hadiyah.”

Raider snickers. “Yeah, right. I don’t think he knows how to feel.”

“Well, I’d agree with ya if I hadn’t seen it for myself. He’s...got a thing for her,” I share.

“Why didn’t y’all go in when shit went down? That was the plan.”

“Never got a signal,” Tantrum says.

“Yeah, we only received a message from Phantom that said ‘let’s roll,’ and then the next thing you know, he and Hadiyah are hauling ass up out the club,” I say.

“Figured someone was on their asses from that,” Tantrum inputs.

“Were y’all followed back here?” Anarchy asks.

“Not from what I could tell,” I say.

“Fuck!” Raider growls.

“Well, all we can do for now is sit and wait for Aiello to contact us,” Anarchy says tiredly, pulling a hand down his face. “I’ve been thinking...we need to figure out what to do about that empty grocery store on Fifth and Grand,” Anarchy says. “It’s been sitting too damn long, and it’s not bringing in any income.”

“Not costing us a damn thing either,” Terminator says, switching the lollipop he’s smacking from one side of his mouth to another.

“That’s because we’ve got Sheriff Roche and Chief Bianchi in our pockets, and they sway the city council,” Raider replies.

“Won’t mean shit if we can’t get the new mayor on our side,” Anarchy points out. “We know every member of the city council is trying to kiss her ass. If they sway her way, we’ll be paying taxes out the ass on that property. As it stands now, we don’t have to worry about that, but I’m told that she’s doing an audit, and as soon as that building comes under her radar, we’re ass out.”

“New mayor, the first time a woman’s elected, everyone’s on guard,” Cannon, our enforcer, points out.

“The fuck’s wrong with these dick wads putting a woman in power? Everyone knows a woman shouldn’t be in charge of running jack shit. Too many damn emotions all over the place. She gets her monthly, and next thing you know, the country’s at war,” Dime, our secretary, interjects.

“Shows you don’t know jack shit, dick wad,” Cannon retorts. “A mayor wouldn’t be sending the country to war. Only the president would. Sides’ most the women in this country got more smarts in their pinky finger than you got in that entire brain of yours.”

“That’s my point. She starts off as mayor, and next thing you know, she’s running the whole damn country.”

Cannon shakes his head at Dime’s ignorance.

“Don’t let Roxie hear you saying that shit,” Whiz, our road captain, points out as he bites his thumbnail.

“Yeah, she’s liable to kick your ass,” Cannon sniffs. The look he gives Dime lets him know that he’s daring him to say something about his wife.

“You dumb fucks need to refocus. This ain’t about who’s running the council or not right now. We can always come back to that. I need some fresh ideas about what we’re gonna do with that old store,” Anarchy says, refocusing our meeting.

“Blow it up and collect the insurance on it,” Dime suggests.

Anarchy glances at Dime and snarls, “You say shit else the rest of this meeting, and I’m kicking your dumb ass off the council.”

Dime has the nerve to look offended, but he smartly doesn’t say anything.

“We could convert it to a warehouse for End Game’s shipments and stock,” Cannon suggests.

Everyone looks at me, and I shrug. “Still wasted space. I mean, yeah, we could use it, but I’m not stocking that much inventory at any given time.”

“Yeah, there’s no way that he needs that much shipment around. Legal or illegal. We’d be asking for trouble,” Raider says.

“Ask my wife, and she’d tell you to turn it into a clothing store, boutique or some shit,” Cannon mumbles, shaking his head.

Raider shakes his head and says, “Nah, something a little more lucrative than that.”

“Casino,” I suggest.

“Damn. I like that,” Anarchy says, tossing a rare smile. “All right. We’ll all mull over ideas for what we’d like that to look like, what it’s gonna take to pull it off and be prepared to discuss it at the next meeting,” Anarchy says.

Everyone mutters their agreement and heads off in different directions.