Page 2 of Rogue’s Path (Sweet Chaos #1)

Rogue

“There’s another dead kid.” I hand the newspaper over to Havoc. “Where are the drugs coming from?”

Havoc takes it but stares at the wall. “Crawley is dead.”

I can’t believe that it was a kid who killed him, even if the kid was a Kamenev.

“That should have slowed down the flow for a while.” He shakes his head. “But it didn’t. We’re losing a kid a week to drug overdoses. My son was offered drugs at school.” Havoc leans back against the worn leather chair. One of the old ladies found it at an antique store.

This is one of those times that I’m happy I don’t have kids yet. We need to get this town cleaned up before I’d let one of my kids anywhere near a public school campus.

Why am I even thinking about kids? I haven’t dated a woman in years.

“What if Crawley wasn’t the boss?”

Huh? “But this town isn’t big enough to support a big operation.”

“It isn’t, but it would be great for a larger operation to expand to.”

That would mean Crawley was just a worker bug. “We aren’t big enough to handle a large cartel. There are only thirty of us.”

“We’re going to have to be a pain in their side until they decide to move somewhere else.”

That sounds logical. “What if they decide to get rid of the irritant?”

Havoc grins. “Then we’ll call Sasha Kamenev in and let them become his problem.”

“You’re insane.” It could work. “The Bratva? You want to get the craziest killers in the world interested in our little town?” A kid killed Crawley. Is a Kamenev ever a kid? They probably come out of the womb hardened killers.

“No. But I’d prefer them to drugs killing our kids.”

Switching one murderer for another doesn’t seem like a wise idea, but the Deathadders don’t seem to be afraid of the Bratva. I’m not the Prez, so that isn’t my worry. “We had a new guy show up. He wants to become a prospect.”

“Ex-military?” Havoc sets the newspaper down and lifts up his coffee cup.

“Nope. Another doctor.”

“Another one? Don’t they get that this is a motorcycle club, not a medical club?”

One out of six make it past being a prospect. Though the nice thing about doctors is that they aren’t squeamish. “The problem is they keep talking about our club like it’s the ‘coolest’ thing ever.”

Havoc raises an eyebrow.

They speak the truth. Where else is it encouraged to have tattoos, beards, and bad attitudes? That should be our club motto.

“Does this one even ride?”

“Sort of.” We don’t really consider crotch rockets a ride.

“So, what you’re saying is this guy has bad taste and a death wish.”

“Basically.”

“Put him through the paces. If he doesn’t chicken out, we can introduce him to a real bike.”

Custom rides are what support the club. People come from around the world to have us make bikes for them.

The wait list is over a year out and that’s with us turning down ideas we don’t like.

To keep our brand hot and exclusive, we turn down more work than we accept. “He’s one of those nerdy doctors.”

“Why?” Havoc shakes his head as he lifts his coffee mug.

Life doesn’t function around here without massive amounts of coffee.

Bear walks in. “There’s a guy at the gate. Name’s Colton. He says he has business with you, Havoc, but I’ve never seen this guy before. Do you want me to get rid of him?”

“Colton?” I only know one Colton. “The Deathadder?”

“He’s not wearing a cut.” Bear shakes his head, which makes his overgrown hair fly everywhere. It’s getting close to the point where he’s going to need a man bun to keep it out of his face, which is grounds for expulsion from the club.

“They rarely wear their cuts.” Havoc reaches for his phone. “They’re too gentrified of a gang for that. Get more information. I’ll call Maddox.”

Bear walks out as Havoc dials.

“What?”

And it seems Maddox is in a great mood.

“Did you send a man over here?” Havoc doesn’t bother with a greeting either. The two of them could have been brothers from a different mother, even though I know Havoc’s actual brothers and they’re stick-in-the-muds who I wouldn’t believe are at all related.

“No… Is Colton there?”

That’s an odd response.

“Yes.”

“Thank you.” Maddox clicks off.

“What was that?” Maddox usually says what he means. That was more like a puzzle.

“No idea. But it seems we’re going to have a chat with Colton.”

***

“You want what?” Havoc leans so far forward he could fall off his chair.

“This list of guns and a bike.” Colton slides over a slip of paper with enough weapons on it to stock a team.

“What are you going to use them for?” We don’t normally ask questions like that, but then again, Deathadders never buy their weapons from us. I’m pretty sure they acquire theirs from government contractors.

“I’m going hunting.” Vengeance pours out of his voice.

With those guns, he isn’t hunting anything with four legs. I wouldn’t want to be the person he’s looking for.

“Should I be worried about that?” Havoc lifts up the list. His eyes widen slightly.

“Only if you’ve started trafficking.”

Something must have happened. I’d be the same if one of my family or friends was taken by traffickers. Not that I have much family outside of my brothers. “If you need any help—”

Colton shakes his head. “Just what’s on the list.”

Colton sets a leather briefcase on the table. He came prepared. “This should cover what I need.”

Havoc spins it around, flicking the tabs open. The case is full of neatly packed stacks of hundred-dollar bills.

I know the Deathadders have money, but the amount of money in there could buy way more than he’s asking for. It’s probably enough for a healthy down payment on a house in the city. Some of our bikes cost bank, but not that much.

“Take Colton to pick a bike from the reserves.” Havoc nods to me.

We always keep a few special bikes in the back in case a brother needs a new one or something happens. Which it always seems to. “Sure.”

Colton follows me out of Havoc's office and through the labyrinth of our clubhouse. We keep the shop on site for convenience, even though our official office and showroom are downtown. “What kind of bike were you looking for?”

“A chopper or cruiser.”

Hmmm.

“With space to store all the stuff you’re getting me.”

That’s even more of a challenge.

“Do you have something that will work?”

It’s one of my favorite bikes. We built it to give to a brother, eventually. The compartments are virtually invisible, which is perfect for transporting items you don’t want found. “Yeah. We’ve got something.”

The extra bikes are stored in one of the empty bays at the back of the shop.

It’s always loud back here thanks to all the pneumatic equipment we use. The scent of oil and hot metal fills the air. If I had to pick one scent to consider home, it would be this. I grew up in a garage and I’ll probably die in one.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

With the push of a button, the bay door opens letting in enough light to show the row of bikes in the back.

“I’ll take any one of them.”

They’re all sweet. “The one you want is the gunmetal one on the end. It’s all handmade.

” I tooled most of the parts myself. “She isn’t the fastest bike, but she handles like a dream.

Let me show you the hidden compartments.

Each of the saddlebags has a key lock with a secret release latch and the key needs to be within ten feet for them to open.

The hidden compartment is inside the engine.

” I squat down to show him. “You press here and here at the same time to open it.”

Colton nods. “That’s big enough for a semi-automatic and quite a few mags. No one would ever look there.”

That’s the point. “Do you need a lesson?”

So many guys think they can handle a bike like this without any experience. Given Colton’s height, or lack thereof, it will be especially challenging without understanding the mechanics of it.

“Nah, I’m good. Had a chopper when I was a kid.”

You’re still a kid. Then again, anyone in their twenties seems like a kid to me. “Feel free to ride her around. We’ll have your other toys ready in a few minutes.” It doesn’t take long to get things out of the armory. I toss the keys over to him and walk away.

***

Havoc and I watch as Colton rides off and the gates close behind him.

“That kid is looking for trouble.”

Oh yeah. “He’s going to find it.”

“Do you think he’ll get through whatever this is alive?”

Young impetuous men rarely do. “He’s well trained.” Another gift from the Deathadders. None of their members walk anywhere without years, maybe decades, of training in all types of fighting.

“The only things our guys are well trained in are bar fights and drinking.”

Those are two important skills. “Half of us were in the military.”

“The other half are doctors and lawyers. We’ll talk our way out of problems.” Havoc starts to walk towards the clubhouse.

“Or sue them until they leave us alone.” That doesn’t bode well for our fight with whatever drug cartel is supplying Silent Valley.

“Maybe this doctor can fight.”

I snort. Doubtful he looks more like a nerd than a fighter.