Page 1 of Carver
One
Carver leanedhis body into the curve of the road. The fresh air whipped against his face, making him smile. He fucking loved the freedom that came with a long ride like this. It had been far too long since he’d had the chance to take one.
Things with the club had been busy. He could admit he’d been far too zealous when taking over the Angels of Ruin from his father. Rather than being a bunch of lawless citizens that cops loved to harass, they’d become upstanding members of society with a touch of vigilante justice for those in the club who found peace in violence.
Cops still harassed them. Now it was just based on profiling and not because they actually had a fucking kilo of heroin on them—something that actually happened during his father’s rule. His Uncle Mitty went down for that crime. Did fifteen years before a heart attack took him out.
The sign for Burkesville came into view. He knew his alone time was coming to an end. While he’d rather pass his exit up to have more time to clear his head, he understood his commitments to his men.
They all trusted him with their lives. There might have been a hierarchy to take over should anything happen to him, but heknew there would be a massive shift in the familial energy if he weren’t around.
Carver was fourth generation Prez of the Angels, though only those inside the club knew as much. To the outside world, he was the muscle. An enforcer.
They’d kept the lie going because it kept a target off his back. The more they thought some reclusive president hid behind the compound walls, the better off all his men would be.
His family had been in charge since the conception of the club. Losing the people tied to its origins would be a devastating loss. One he worried they’d never recover from.
He shook away the dark thoughts as he drove through the backroads that would take him to the compound. Each field he passed reminded him of why his family had chosen this area to settle down in.
While they were near New Roughoak, a major city the club did business in often, this small town offered a slice of peace you couldn’t get in the concrete maze of the city. He loved both, though his loyalty was to wherever the Angels laid their heads. Could have been the fucking moon and he’d be singing its praises as well.
He laughed to himself as he took the final turn that led to home. The compound came into view, its giant concrete walls making it stand out against the farmland backdrop. His great-grandfather believed the fortress would protect his men from prying eyes while they did all manner of illegal shit.
The old bastard had been right. Now that they weren’t up to such nefarious things, the wall seemed excessive sometimes. Then again, the enemies the past generations had made still lived on. It was only a matter of time before they’d have to face them. Better to be protected than to be caught unaware.
His men posted at the gate, a couple of probates who were nearing the end of their initiation terms, let him in as heapproached. They each gave him a salute, their eyes trained on anywhere but him.
It made Carver smile to see the loyalty and fear in their eyes. While he wasn’t a mean son of a bitch like some of the men in his family, he’d shown his men a time or two what could happen if things went south.
He was no stranger to some violence. Definitely not to murder either, though it was mostly in defense of his people, with the occasional exception for the particularly sick bastards of the world the law couldn’t seem to tame. No one was going to try to take out his men without meeting their demise. It was the way of the club—protect each other until the end. It’s what made them family. Much more so than the blood that ran through their veins, they had a brotherhood that connected them.
Carver parked his Heritage in the garage stall with his name on it. Beside his spot were spaces reserved for the two most important people in his life. Slash, his second and best friend, had a gorgeous chromed out Low Rider to his right. Silver, his sergeant at arms, had his matte black Fat Boy set up to his left.
Lined up together, he took a minute to enjoy the view of the bikes. Seeing the beautiful work never got old. Silver had spent a lot of time working on all three throughout the years. What started as a hobby to occupy his mind became a business. He only did work for the club, but that was more than enough to earn him a nice living.
“You back already? I expected you to take another few hours off.” Slash leaned against the doorway that led from the garage to the main part of the compound. His smirk was teasing, though Carver knew his words were genuine.
He shrugged as he climbed off his bike. “Didn’t see the point in being out any later.”
“So, this had nothing to do with you wanting to check on Trix and his research? Don’t lie to me, Boss.”
“Never lied to you. Not going to start today,” he said. “Might have come back early to check on him, sure. Can you blame me? He’s closer than ever to getting the final pieces in place.”
The final pieces being the information they needed to take out some really fucking nasty human beings whose mothers should have swallowed them instead. Carver could deal with a lot of shit. He’d seen the dark side of life from far too early an age and dealt with it fine.
These people were the lowest of low. The kind who would meet an early end at the hands of his men just as soon as they had all the information they needed to ensure they wouldn’t get caught for their brand of justice.
Back in the day, dropping a body and covering it up was an easy task. There weren’t a million and one cameras focused on your every move. And people didn’t record so much of their life to the point you’d end up in the background of a video or selfie.
These days, you had to be careful and precise. If they knew the result was carnage, they would plan every step out meticulously.
That’s where Trix came in. As our resident hacker, he knew exactly how to get into systems without anyone being aware he was there. It didn’t make a bit of fucking sense to Carver, though he knew it meant he had a secret weapon of sorts at his disposal. After seeing what Trix’s prep could do for one of their projects, he made him a full-time researcher for all things club related.
Even though Trix didn’t have an official title, the men saw the respect Carver gave him and did the same. He was right behind the sergeant at arms as far as ranking went if you wanted to be technical about it.
“Any updates while I was gone?” Carver asked as he pushed past Slash.
“Nothing that couldn’t wait. Trix said it was more of the same, though he thinks he’s close to answers.”