“I kind of want to work on my own for now.” My eyes rise, and I see his gesture for me to carry on. “I was thinking nomad. I could still work for the club, reporting directly to you, Prez.”
His fingers drum on the desk. “Stormy, that’s the last thing I fuckin’ want. But I’m not sure I can argue. You’re upsetting the team. Everyone’s either pissed with you, or talking about the last thing you’ve done or who, this time, you’ve upset. It’s not only in church I’ve seen it, but whenever brothers try to talk to you, you’re more likely to snap their heads off. Whatever’s crawled up your ass, Stormy, I want it gone. It’s no fun walking on eggshells around you.” He sighs. “Nomad? Well, that gets you out of everyone’s hair. But can I trust you?”
The more I think on it, the more it’s what I want. Just like my visit to Afghanistan, I’d be on my own, not having to carry anyone else. “You can trust me, Prez. I’ll go where you send me. Work on whatever you want. Use me as a scout to get advance information on missions, if that would be useful. As one man, I can go where a team can’t. I can still hook into the databases and use the systems. I can dig out information and shit for you, maybe even keep an eye out for jobs.”
His lips purse. “I can’t have you upsetting everyone, Stormy. If it wasn’t for your personal issues and the shit with your mom, then maybe I’d take your patch myself. But perhaps some time out will help get your head on straight.”
Thinking I’ve got what I want, I start to thank him, but he brushes my appreciation off.
“I’ll be watching you, Stormy. You might not be here, but I still want you to play nice. You do every fuckin’ thing I tell you, or I will have your patch. Are we clear?”
“Crystal.”
For the first time in weeks, maybe in months, I leave the room feeling lighter.
I just hadn’t taken much account of the saying, be careful what you wish for.
The feeling of freedom was amazing. I was elated to be out on my own, not having to look over my shoulder to make sure no one had fallen by the wayside, nor having to watch the back of a brother in front. I still had accountability to Prez and the MC, but I was under no obligation other than to do things my way.
It was perfection. Just what I needed. Pip sent me work, I did it. If it was information needed, I got it. A reconnaissance job? No problem. A hit to take out a child molester, well, Pip called me and I got it done. To track someone of interest to the club? Well, get in touch. Give me a problem that needs investigating? Just ask.
I had no base, simply moved around the country, going to where my club needed me. I was living the life and enjoying it, all under the pretence that at heart I remained a Devil.
Did I miss my brothers? At first, I had. It had taken longer than I’d thought it would to not turn around and expect to find someone there. But as time moved on, I thought I was better, faster, more capable on my own.
My mental outlook started changing. I couldn’t say when, but now that I no longer had a team relying on me, I started to believe I couldn’t rely on them. Pip was the constant, my only contact with the club. It was he I took orders from and he I’d report to when a mission was done. I often wondered whether he discussed my missions in church, or whether he used me as a resource of his own. Either way, it didn’t bother me. I still paid my dues to the club and received payment into my bank account each month. I also still wore my cut, albeit with a nomad patch on the back.
I was happy, I thought. No one depended on me, and I had no one to depend upon. Bliss. The only mistakes I could make were my own, and the sole person to suffer was me.
Imperceptibly at first, I was beginning to keep more and more to myself. I was still taking missions from Pip and fulfilling them, but not so regularly updating him. I started to follow my own leads. It wasn’t something that happened overnight, it was years in the making. Maybe I’d been too long on the road, maybe solitude wasn’t actually good for me. In my mind I was settled, content, and as far as I was concerned, I was doing no wrong.
Becoming aware of a snake called Major, I began to keep my own records of what he was doing. I’d located him in Vegas and quickly found any air he breathed was a waste. I’m not naïve, what Major had been doing was fulfilling a need for the most deviant of men and that need would remain whether or not he was there to provide it. But taking him out was a good start.
He’d taken women, held them captive, then provided them to men whose desires went way beyond vanilla sex, and way out of the realm of kinky. You wanted to choke a woman to death? Well, for a fee, Major would provide her, then dispose of the remains with no questions asked. Brand her with a hot iron burning her flesh? Whip her until she bled? If you had the money, Major would let you take your choice.
He was evil, no other word for it.
How had he survived so long? Because he’d made so much money and had such powerful friends, he was untouchable.
A resourceful girl had escaped, along with a teenager and had made her way to Colorado. One of Major’s faults was that he didn’t like to lose, and he was determined to get them back. I knew this, I’d been watching him carefully, infiltrating his security systems, his computers, and even, in disguise, one of his parties.
I knew he was going to make the attempt to retrieve them, even though they were miles away and under the protection of the Satan’s Devils MC chapter in Pueblo.
Maybe the old me would have done things differently, but I’d gone from being grateful for having no one beside me, to actively being suspicious of everyone else. I could have approached the Colorado chapter as a nomad from the same club, but that notion had never occurred to me. The most I did was drop anonymous hints to their tech guy. That’s when I made my only slipup when I failed to adequately hide my location, but I thought I would get away with it. I put any concerns aside, any errors would fall only on me. If I had fucked up, I owned it and would deal.
I knew Major would catch up with Shayla Yonovich and young Esme, it was only a matter of time. He’d be out of Vegas, away from his base which was protected like a fortress, and I’d have my chance to take him out.
I tracked his movements, predicted where he’d be and when. When I knew all that, I seized my chance. Perched in my sniper’s nest high on a roof far away from proceedings, I staked out the Satan’s Devil’s Colorado clubhouse. I didn’t care about sleeping, eating or anything else. I stayed still, unseen, watching for the opportunity. I knew Major would turn up—I’d been studying the man long enough.
When he did, I took my shot. One bullet and he was dead. I’d even grinned at the looks on the faces of my Colorado brothers, expressions of shock, confusion and fury.
I’d drawn a firm line under the affair. Major had money, he was drowning in it. I couldn’t trust that the Colorado club wouldn’t accept payment to send Shayla Yonovich back into his clutches, worse, bring them into his fold either as customers or suppliers of more women. What did I know of the brothers I’d never ridden with, even though we bore the same patch on our backs? I didn’t even consider it. I took that excuse for a man out without a second thought. I couldn’t take the risk he could buy them.
This time Pip and I are having a rare face-to-face. I ride to meet him. He’d driven to a convenient halfway point. He even has a beer waiting for me.