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Chapter 1: Ice

The heavy air of the New Orleans night presses down on me like a physical thing, damp and thick with the promise of things to come. I stand in the shadowed expanse of Voodoo Velvet’s parking lot, my boots planted firmly on gritty asphalt. The neon sign above buzzes and crackles, spilling a riot of color onto the chrome and steel beasts that sleep beneath it. My heart thrums in my chest, not unlike the bass line that’ll soon throb inside the strip club. It’s opening night, and pride swells within me as fierce as the roar of an approaching engine.

A symphony of Harleys shatters the stillness, cutting through the darkness like a knife. Vapor leads the rest of the men of Underground Vengeance MC, his presence as commanding as a general’s. I can’t help but smirk. The man’s a force of nature, all raw power wrapped in leather and denim. His bike growls to a stop, and the others follow suit—Fang, Tank, Diablo, Bones—their engines purring down into silence.

“Ice,” Vapor rumbles, swinging his leg over his ride. There’s a glint in his sharp blue eyes, a shared excitement that needs no words.

“Vapor.” I tip my chin in acknowledgment. “Ready to make some serious money?”

“Always,” he grins, clapping a hand on my shoulder.

Fang hops off his bike next, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. His nerdy shirt-of-the-day peeks out from his cut. It’s written in 8-bit style like the OG video games. Thetop reads “Jurassic Trail.” Then there’s an 8-bit image of the wagon from the old Oregon Trail video game, with a velociraptor standing over the ox that was pulling the wagon.Was.And at the bottom it reads “You have died of dysentery and velociraptors.”

“That fucking shirt, bro.” I snort.

“Love it?” Fang grabs the hem and holds it out so he can look down at it. “Just got it online.”

“Looks more like swag from that huge nerd convention you went to,” I tease.

“You mean CES?” he asks, referencing one of the biggest tech shows in the world.

“Yeah. That.”

“Nope. Found a new site on the dark web.”

“And that’s the shit they sell?” I arch a brow. “I thought it was all drugs and kids and shit on there.”

“Well, obviously I wasn’t on there looking for shirts, but I found this anyway. Which reminds me, Vapor, I was able to get a possible lead on Vasquez’s next drug shipment.”

“How soon?” Vapor asks.

“Not until next week.”

“Save it for Church. Tonight, we’re focusing on making our new club the hottest new spot in NOLA.”

“Got it, Pres. Consider it tabled.”

“Good.”

“Now, where’s all the hot chicks?” Fang’s grin is filled with mischief and anticipation.

“Inside.” I slap him on the back.

Tank, our newest patched member, dismounts his bike with a grunt.

“The fuck happened to you?” I ask.

“Vicki.” Tank shrugs while the corner of his mouth hitches. He’s trying to hold back a smile, so he doesn’t seem upset about whatever Vicki did to throw out his back. She didn’t get thenickname “Vicki the Hickey” for nothing. Hot piece of ass, but off limits. She’s Tank’s girl, even if he hasn’t bothered claimin’ her yet.

“Let’s light this place up.” Tank’s gaze sweeps over the club before resting on the huge sign over the single story building. “Sick neon.”

“Better be for how much we paid for it,” Vapor says.

“Drop in the bucket. We’ll be rolling in hundies by the end of the week. Those other clubs won’t know what hit ‘em,” I assure him, puffing my chest.

Diablo and Bones get off their rides to join us. Their leather cuts creak as they step in to close the circle of brothers in arms. We exchange handshakes and backslaps, simple gestures to acknowledge our bond. This crew’s weathered storms together. We’ve fought battles, winning more than losing, and tonight, we’re about to celebrate one more victory. Getting the permits for this place took a little palm-greasing and a couple of veiled threats, but I got it done.

“Let’s show ‘em how Underground Vengeance does it,” Bones grins, his teeth flashing in the neon-lit dark.