Inc's Regret (Satan's Raiders MC Book 1) Read online

  I roll my eyes and leave my husband’s view, knowing I need to get Neo some breakfast sorted.

  Chapter Three

  “Greatness pulls mediocracy into the mud. Get out there and get after it.”

  ~ David Goggins

  Inc

  “You busy, brother?” Armor asks. His brows are drawn together and he looks like he’s about to snap some damn necks.

  I cancel out the app on my phone I was just using and slide it into the pocket of my jeans. “Not anymore. You good?”

  He shrugs his shoulders. “I’ll be fine . . . but I wanna take a ride and get some air. Mind keepin’ me company?” Whenever someone asks for a brother to keep ‘em company it only means one thing—shit’s about to go down.

  “Sure, shit’s dead around here anyway,” I comment, rising from the chair.

  Armor leads me out through the back of the clubhouse and we walk around the building to the alley. Both proceeding to get on our bikes, I clear my throat before we start our engines. “You wanna tell me what’s goin’ on before we head out?”

  Armor sucks in a sharp breath, looks down at his handlebars, and then looks to me. His eyes are cold and he gnaws on his bottom lip. I’ve known the man for years and it’s a nervous tick he has, “One of our girls told me about something she overheard at the hospital yesterday when she was there to get checked out, so I wanna follow up on it.”

  “Something to do with the Guatemalans?” I ask.

  Immediately Armor shakes his head. “No, thank fuck. This is somethin’ else, though I don’t suppose we need more shit on our plate, right?” He laughs, trying to lighten the mood.

  We have prostitutes who work for the club. We provide protection for them as long as we get a kickback on what they’re making. It’s kind of how a pimp works but entirely different. The women control when they work, who they’re working with, and who their clients are. They’re on a location off site, completely separate from the club, but they’re not too far away. We typically have two of our guys over there to monitor them when they start their shifts. The ladies work from about six in the evening to six in the morning. Some work three days while others work four, five, sometimes up to seven.

  “Which girl was it?” I don’t wanna sound like a dick, but some of the ladies have specific habits and depending on the woman who told Armor this shit . . . I might not believe ‘em.

  “Tasha,” Armor responds.

  Tasha’s one of the girls who’ve been doing this for a couple years. She’s a real sweetheart, trying to support her younger brother. I don’t know the story, but I do know life’s rough and shit’s tough. She’s never struck me as one who uses.

  “Alright, so let’s get going. Where we headed?”

  “East Los Angeles Doctor’s Hospital,” Armor responds.

  Why the fuck would Tasha be going out there? It’s a ways off from where she works and is on a rough side of town.

  Armor starts his bike, kicks up the stand, and takes off. I do the same and straddle my sexy beast, weaving through traffic just as he does. He seems invested in getting over to the hospital as soon as possible, so no matter how fast he’s going, I keep up with his speed. The wind hitting my cheeks in this moment makes me realize I won’t be able to ride through the winter months when I’m in Montana. Shit’s different up there and it starts snowing as early as October. This is what I’m not looking forward to. If I had a choice in the matter, I wouldn’t be going up there, period. Breaker’s only doing it because I was the first to shoot down his idea, but I can guarantee I wasn’t the only one who thought it. Now I’ll be forced to be within a general proximity of the one I thought I was going to marry. No doubt it’ll be literal fuckin’ hell.

  We get near the hospital sooner than I expected since Armor couldn’t stop fuckin’ speeding. We’re lucky we didn’t get pulled over and I bet if we did, he’d try to use Troy’s name to get us out of it. Unfortunately, that card isn’t working anymore. It helps to have someone on the force, but we need to use him when it’s necessary, not when it’s wanted.

  Armor parks on the street and I pull my bike up beside his, turn off the bike, and kick the stand down. Dismounting my bike, I look around and see the area is going even more downhill than I’d thought. I haven’t been out here in a little while though.

  “What’s your plan for us being out here?” I ask him while we walk down the sidewalk.

  “You’ll see,” Armor mutters. We round the corner and go straight up to the hospital’s double doors. Armor heads up to the directory and taps on someone’s name, a ‘Dr Gerald Otis’. “C’mon, we need to go up to the next floor.”

  I follow along behind him, allowing Armor to lead the way. Instead of heading up the elevator we go up the stairwell, then he turns left and walks down a long hallway. On each door is the suite number with what doctor or practice is operating there. Interesting. I wonder if part of the hospital is used by the doctors for their actual practices.

  Armor comes to a halt and knocks on the door with Otis’ name. Shuffling can be heard from behind it, and within a moment it cracks open, revealing a Caucasian man in his mid-forties from the looks of it. “Can I help you?”

  Armor rolls his shoulders. “Yeah, I heard . . . you’ve helped some friends of mine with something, if you know what I mean.” Armor moves his hand behind his head and scratches it.

  The doctor narrows his eyes and then looks to me, then back to Armor. He’s suspicious and so am I. Armor didn’t tell me shit about his plan today.

  “I’m interested in being a bulk client of yours, and no I’m not a fuckin’ cop, look at my patches, and his,” Armor grunts out, appearing to grow more irritated with every waking moment.

  Otis nods and steps back, pulling the door open. “Please come in and we can discuss this matter further.”

  Armor walks in first and I follow behind him. The man motions with his hand for us to sit down but Armor shakes his head. “Sorry, man, I got shit to do today so I can’t have a social hour. I’ll get straight to the point. I wanna know how much you sell for?”

  “Depends on the product.” Otis looks at Armor’s patch and reads his name, “Armor, it truly depends on the product.”

  “Where do you get your supply from?”

  Otis cackles, “It’s more like where I don’t get it from. Allow me to elaborate further, the Russians want more for theirs, while the Latin American countries want to get as much out on the street as they can.” Is Armor really talking to this dude about drugs? I’m damn sure he didn’t speak to Breaker about this and Breaker will lose his fuckin’ mind when he finds out.

  “How many shipments do you get in?” Armor questions.

  “Once a month, typically. But every now and again I might have two. Now, what’re you looking for exactly? I have many clients with different palettes.”

  “I’m looking to increase my supply, make sure I have what I need to do business, you know?” Armor replies and Otis’ eyes light up with excitement.

  “I do, and I deal with many men like you who have a business. If you continue to be a consistent client of mine, I’ll make sure you’re happy.”

  “Thank you, I appreciate that.”

  “Is pricing a concern of yours?” Otis asks Armor. At this point I stand back against the wall and relax, surveying the situation but allowing Armor to take the lead.

  Armor shakes his head. “Not so much, but I’d like to know what your pricing is like, to see how much I can get at one time.”

  Otis claps his hands together. “Ah, yes, of course. My product from China is the product at around eight thousand a head, then the next is the Canadians at six thousand. Romanians are the next most expensive, ranging from three thousand to six, depending what my wholesale price is. Everything else ranges but is about seventy-percent lower than those prices. I can get some from Asia where I only charge two-hundred-fifty a head.”

  I narrow my eyes slightly, curious to know if what I’m thinking is correct. I know by the
end of the conversation I’ll have my answer, but I still have this gut feeling like Breaker never authorized this meeting. If he had, the entire club would’ve known about it.

  “Alright, cash good for you?”

  “Cash, we don’t want anything being tracked,” Otis tells Armor. Criminals never want there to be any sort of electronic trail. It’s why the prostitutes request cash as well.

  “Sweet. When’s your next shipment come in?”

  “Later this week. I only have five extra, though. I’m afraid the other clients of mine have already pre-paid for their product. But, I could sell you the rest at five thousand for the lot. They’re Romanian product, so I’m giving you a heavy discount, as you can see.”

  Armor reaches out and extends his hand, shaking with his new friend. “Deal. It’s a pleasure doing business with you, Otis.”

  “Likewise, Armor. Come here next Thursday and I’ll set up a location and time for you to get what’s owed. You’ll make a fifty percent deposit at that time and then pay for the rest when you get your product in.”

  “Perfect. Thank you. I gotta run, but I’ll be in touch,” Armor tells him, heading for the door. I follow quickly behind him and he opens the door, we both walk through and we’re out of there before he says anything else. Armor and I head down the stairwell, walk through the front door, and head back to our bikes.

  As we’re heading to our bikes, I turn to look at him, stare into his eyes and ask the question I’m sure I already know the answer to. “He’s a child trafficker, isn’t he?”

  “Yep, slimy motherfucker, and I’m gonna grab as many kids as I can.”

  Chapter Four

  She said to me there’s a difference in the way someone loves you; there is the kind that will fall in love with you and this changes with circumstance and time . . . and there is the love that loves your entire being, it never changes, it’s lifetime.

  ~ Unknown

  Octavia

  I’m in denial and I know it. Someone from the Satan’s Raiders MC will be here soon. I’m hoping it’s Chains. Actually, I’m praying it’s Chains . . . but realistically I know it won’t be. He’s the VP and Breaker would never send him up here. God, not knowing who’s coming is giving me the worst stress of my life. Zane said he’d let me know whenever he knows, but so far, he hasn’t been told a thing, other than the fact whoever it is will be coming up with my mom. She called me this morning and told me she’ll be having a Satan’s Raider escort her up here. While it settles my nerves about her traveling alone, it doesn’t settle the nerves about who’s coming.

  Natalie’s watching Neo while I get some work done. I’ve turned part of the basement into a studio so I can shoot photographs of the women down here. Right now, I have Rosa in front of me. She’s wearing a green ensemble that’s the same shade as her emerald hair. With plum lips and glasses, she looks like any nerd’s wet dream. She has an old-fashioned bandana in her hair as an accessory. The lingerie she’s wearing is a sheer lace in a polka dot pattern, allowing the viewer to see through the thin material and get a look at her breasts. They’ll even be able to see how her nipples are hardened underneath.

  “I really wanna start doing some more anime style stuff. I keep getting more subscribers when I upload the anime schoolgirl stuff, and when I did the sexy Fruits Basket cosplay I had so many tips. It was fucking awesome,” Rosa says, smiling brightly. Her subscriber amounts doubled within the last month, so I totally understand why she’s so happy.

  “I bet they’re going to ask you to do some hentai type stuff next,” I tease, getting a cackle from her.

  “Yeah, probably, but I don’t know if I will. I don’t mind the photos, but I’m not into the video thing. It reminds me too much of Only Fans . . . and eh, I’m not doing porn. You know?”

  “Hey, I respect it. We’re not the Knights of Retribution,” I giggle lowly.

  “Who’re they?” Rosa spins around the chair I have her sitting on and I put my camera down for a minute.

  “They’re a club out in Delaware, one Zane and I both know of. We’re on good terms with them, but we’re not friendly like we are with my brother’s club, or my uncle’s.”

  “Whoa, wait a second. You never told me you had someone else in the lifestyle. Who’s your uncle?”

  “Zeus, from the Sons of Gods MC. He lives down in Alabama, though.”

  Rosa’s eyes narrow a little bit like she’s thinking about something. “I feel like I’ve heard that name before.”

  “You very well might’ve. You said you spent some time in the South for a while, right?”

  Rosa nods. “Yeah, I did. It’s how Bama and I know each other.”

  Interesting. I had no idea Bama and Rosa knew each other . . . how weird is that? That they’re both here in the same general vicinity. “I didn’t realize you two were already acquainted. Did—I mean, this is none of my business, but were you two an item before he came up here?”

  “God, no. Not at all. Bama’s always been more like a little brother. He’s a good soul, a good kid, one of the few good ones down there. The South is . . . riddled with men who want to take things into their own hands, deciding at every turn what’s wrong and what’s right. Bama . . . he . . . I’d always checked in with him every few months. I know I haven’t gone into details with anyone about my past and I probably won’t, but, if it weren’t for Bama I might not be breathing right now. The kid saved my life when he was about sixteen and it caused a friendship to blossom between the two of us. We’d always kept in contact, texting every few weeks. After a point I told him I was here, and then I heard a rumor about how he wanted to join an MC, but not one of the ones down there . . . so I told him to come up here, to see if he could try and get in here.”

  “Wow, I’m . . . I’m completely flabbergasted. I can’t believe I didn’t have a clue about any of this shit,” I mutter, putting my hand over my mouth.

  “It’s not exactly like I tell people anything, plus, you let those of us who work for you be very secretive. I think it’s why we work here, why we work for you. You don’t go digging, O’. You respect our privacy, how good or how bad our pasts have been.”

  I nod in understanding. It’s not my place to go fishing for information from them. Some of the girls have told me small things about their past, but not everyone has. At the end of the day, it isn’t my business. “I just want all of you to be safe. The things I’ve heard . . . they’re disturbing to say the least. I want being part of the Vixens to be a sanctuary for you all. You know?”

  Rosa smiles. “I do, and every one of us do too. So, are you still planning that Valentine’s Day party?” she asks, laughing a bit and slightly turns her body which causes me to really see her scars and how deep they are. She has me photoshop them out of her images, but some days I do wonder how they got on her body. I feel so horrible for whatever she endured. The mere look at how thick and deep they are tells me it must’ve been painful.

  The stairs behind me start to creak so I turn my head at the noise and spot Shiloh. “Hey, I’m so sorry to interrupt, but Honey and Drita are getting into it again and I’m about to rip my hair out. You know I wouldn’t have come to get you if I couldn’t handle it myself, but, I feel like it’s gonna turn into an underground cage fight in there,” Shiloh admits, drawing her brows together. It’s obvious she’s nervous so I’ll go handle it.

  “Sorry, Rosa. Mind if we take a break for thirty and come back to it?”

  “Pfft, like I give a damn. Gives me a reason to stuff my face,” Rosa says, waving her hand, ushering me to go off and do what I need to do.

  I head out with Shiloh and go up the stairs to my coat rack and put on my coat, then we walk outside together through the field over to the Vixens’ house. Over the last few months, I’ve had Shiloh helping me with some tasks for the Vixens after she explained she was looking for a job and wanted to know if she could list me as a reference. Obviously, she wanted me to lie for her and say she was a bartender, but I gave her a job right th
ere on the spot. Zane had been getting upset with me for working really late in the night managing things like responding to emails, updating the website, and all of that. But good ol’ Shiloh, she’s been so helpful. Honestly, I see her becoming my right-hand woman.

  “You fucking bitch!” Honey screams with all her might as we approach the doorway.

  Shiloh and I look to one another, “Well, you weren’t kidding,” and head in to handle whatever the fuck is going on.

  Chapter Five

  You can’t win any battle if you are losing your mind

  ~ Unknown

  Inc

  “I can’t fuckin’ believe this shit,” I mutter, shakin’ my head as I pull out a smoke, makin’ my way back to our bikes. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what’s going on here.

  Armor’s walking alongside me and I’m sure he’s havin’ the same sort of thoughts I am too. “Listen, Breaker doesn’t know about this yet, so do me a solid and don’t tell him, yeah?”

  I stop right in my fuckin’ tracks, turn to face him and cock a brow. “I’m already on his shit list and you want me to get in deeper?”

  “No, man. Fuck. I’m handlin’ this on my own time, with my own cash. Not usin’ the club’s resources at all.”

  “Listen, I know you’re a trust fund kid and all that, but do you seriously expect to pay for this sort of shit until the kids are all saved or what?”

  “No. I’m gonna pay for as many kids as I need to, and then I’m gonna slowly integrate myself in with that piece of shit in that fuckin’ hospital. You feel me? I’m gonna weasel my way into shit, find out who his boss is, who his boss’s boss is, and his boss’s, boss’s, boss. I’m cutting the head off at the top, not taking out the low-level grunt workers.”