Page 259 of Remorseless

She nodded. “I’ll let you know.”

Rack liked Eliza. She had been a club bitch not under the protection of one club. Just hopping from party to party, searching for a brother to put her on the back of his bike. She was young and biddable, which he liked. Less cause to kick her fucking ass. Behavioral corrections were much easier now that Joe was so far gone.

Regret hit Rack. One day, Joe would come back to them. Be the motherfucker they all loved and feared. Rack didn’t agree with the way Joe coddled bitches, but even that flaw was excusable. What was hard to fucking swallow was Outlaw and his motley crew.

Rack hated Outlaw and Mortician, but he knew better than to cross Cee Cee. When the man discovered Sharper and Logan’s plot to kill him, Outlaw, Joe, and a bunch of other motherfuckers, he made Rack choose between his woman and his son’s mother or Wally, Jr. No bitch was worth sacrificing his son. He missed her to this day, but he didn’t regret her death for a minute.

He wasn’t sure what vile punishment Cee Cee subjected Sharper and Logan to, and he didn’t care to know. Although Wally, Jr. never admitted it, they all suspected he’d blabbed the plan to Cee Cee.

It didn’t matter. Justice was meted out, and life moved on.

Rack still fucked Patricia. At one time, it made him proud to get one over on Cee Cee. Until he let it be known, he didn’t give a fuck if that bitch dropped off the face of the fucking earth.

Logan loved that cunt, though. Just like Rack wouldn’t sacrifice Wally, Jr., he’d rip out his own heart before he hurt Logan. He was such a great man.

Time and again, Rack tried to befriend Johnnie—Logan’s revered grandson, but motherfucking Outlaw had the poor boy firmly in his grip.

Again, they didn’t want to cross Cee Cee, so that devil stayed alive. Besides,Joeloved that arrogant dickwad. Sometimes, Rack walked a fine line, trying to help Joe while not getting on Logan’s bad side.

Just days ago, Joe’s conference call to Cee Cee, Sharper, Logan, Rack, and K-P, revealed his determination to get into rehab. It was Meggie’s seventeenth birthday. Most days, Joe forgot that little cunt was alive. Fuck, he forgothewas alive, drifting through life in search of drugs and sluts.

Yetsomethingmade him remember his daughter. Fathers and daughters. The bond was unbreakable. Not that Rack knew or cared to know. He was happy with his son.

Joe had been sobbing. Just a fucking mess. He thought she turned eighteen, his target date to convince her to move to Hortensia.

Logan and Sharper didn’t want Joe to get clean. That was the one thing Rack held against Logan, though he knew it was because they didn’t want Joe to discover the extent of their sex trafficking and their intentions for Meggie. She was the key.

The promise of her pussy, mouth, and ass had already netted a lot of money. But Cee Cee was making them wait until she turned eighteen. Rack figured it had more to do with exercising his power than breaking a fucking promise or losing his years of money.

She was young. They’d probably get a good year of wearing out her cunt before she was used up. They’d kill her and swoop in and seize control of the club.

Neither Cee Cee, K-P, or Joe ever realized the falsified documents that put everything in that little bitch’s name. Upon her death, it would all revert back to the Dwellers. Then,finally, they’d get Joe into rehab. Dinah and Meggie would be dead. Her mama was a crazy cunt; they couldn’t allowherto live. They’d inform Joe that Nicks or Nichols or whoever the fuck she married made them disappear, and life would be good again.

Most of all, Rack would be wealthy beyond his dreams. Before he got so far gone, Joe had made a ton of money for the club.

Until they’d gotten him so strung out, Joe never hurt cunts.

The baby had fallen asleep in Eliza’s arms. Rack leaned over and stroked the bald little head, annoyed when his phone began ringing. It might disturb his grandson. He snatched his phone out of his cut and saw Snake’s name. An odd feeling settled into him, so as he answered, he turned on his heel and walked out of the room.

“What, boy?”

“It’s Dad.” Tears clogged Snake’s throat. “Outlaw says another club got him.”

A chill slid down Rack’s spine.

Snake sniffled, sobbed. Snake—Joey—was a violent killer. With few exceptions, he showed no mercy and exhibited no love. Besides Hopper, a Dweller slut, Snake loved and cared about Big Joe. They were the only two people in this mean world whose deaths would shatter him.

Even before Rack asked the question, he already had the answer because of Snake’s tears. The words escaped him anyway. “What’s his condition?”

“Dead, Rack.” He howled. “My father’s gone.”

Final Curtain – Decisions

She had been named for the highest-ranking angels, the six-winged seraphim. When she was a child, Seraphina Miles loved to hear of the fiery beings, focused on praising and worshipping God and those closest to Him.

As the daughter of a minister and a schoolteacher, Seraphina’s parents placed her on a pedestal and made her feel special, though her birth was sandwiched between an older brother and a younger sister. Her parents fostered her love of reading and ballet. Once, she’d dreamed of becoming principal dancer at the American Ballet Theatre.

Somehow, it all fell apart. Unlike some, Seraphina knew the exact moment her downfall began. The day she accompanied Charles, her brother, to meet agroup of motorcycle men and she saw a pair of angry blue eyes set in a boyish face. He’d been funny and sardonic. Too late, she realized he’d never claimed kindness; too late, she understood her biggest flaw was trusting anyone—everyone—because she’d taken her father’s sermons to heart.