Page 4 of Rogue’s Path (Sweet Chaos #1)

Rogue

“Not much. Just that they might have a lucrative job for us.” Havoc sets his kickstand and steps off his own, placing his helmet on the handlebars. He started wearing one about the time his son was born. Good example and all that.

I don’t have anyone to wear one for. The freedom of riding without is too much to give up without a reason.

We walk down the cobblestone street with little eyes following our every step. It probably isn’t often these kids see men like us. Though mostly, they’re probably drooling over our bikes.

“Hey.” A short stocky boy walks up to us. “Are those your bikes?”

He watched us get off of them. “Yes.”

“Are you Deathadders?”

Havoc holds his temper surprisingly well. “Do you see a silly snake on our backs?”

The kid leans over to peek at our cuts. “No. Does that mean you’re in a gang?”

“A motorcycle club,” I correct him.

“Same difference. Do you get all the girls with them?”

I could lie and tell him bikes don’t attract women. I probably should. The kid looks like the type to go out and try to ride one without any lessons. “Who you are is what attracts a woman.”

But an amazing bike helps.

The boy’s face falls. “I’m a drug dealer. They’ll never like me.”

What?

A second boy walks up. This one is lanky. He’s still trying to grow into his frame. I remember that stage of life none too fondly. “You aren’t a drug dealer, so stop saying that.”

It’s hard to think you’re a drug dealer without actually being one.

And now we’re drawing a crowd. Do kids follow you around like goslings here?

“And you don’t want to ride a motorcycle. They’re death machines.” The lanky boy glares at us, probably deciding that we’re trouble.

Which is fair enough. Though death machines sounds a tad dramatic. Can you die? Sure. But you can die sitting in your living room in a freak accident too. Inexperienced riders on machines they can’t handle or stupid riders are the causes of most motorcycle accidents.

“Wait, I remember you.” The lanky boy points at Havoc. “He’s the one that saved your brother Levi.”

The other boy jumps back. “I’m not selling drugs anymore. I promise. Don’t kill me.”

The difference a shower and clean clothes make on a teenage boy. I hardly recognized Jordan.

“You aren’t a drug dealer.” The lanky kid steps in front of him. “Maddox won’t let them hurt you.”

Brave and loyal. I like this kid. He came with Maddox when they picked up Levi and Jordan. Maddox wanted us nowhere near this kid. Why? What was his name again?

“Are they coming for Levi?” Jordan steps forward. “You can’t hurt my brother. He’s in rehab and working really hard at getting clean. Levi won’t sell drugs anymore. I won’t let you hurt him.”

“What’s wrong?” A little girl comes racing up.

“Walk away, Nayeli.” The lanky boy glares at her.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Everett. I can talk to whoever I want on Willow Street. If they were bad men, my dad or a security member would have gotten rid of them.”

Everett is the kid’s name. I need to find out more about him.

Nayeli turns her back on him with her hands on her waist and all the attitude. “Can I ride on your motorcycle? Do they make them in pink? Or in hot pink with sparkles? How fast do they go?”

Her mother must be a spitfire. Does her father have any hair left?

“Wow. Cool. You have a butterfly on your back. That is the coolest thing ever. Can I get one with pink sparkles? And a matching motorcycle when I grow up?”

Pink sparkles? Why am I afraid of the woman this little girl is going to grow up to be?

“They’re a motorcycle gang, not a princess tea party, Nayeli. That isn’t a butterfly on their back. It’s a symbol for the Butterfly Effect, which is a chaos theory. You don’t just cover things like that in pink sparkles.” Everett shakes his head at her.

The boy knows about the Butterfly Effect? Our rocker is a bit of a test for prospects. Which is probably another reason we keep getting doctors signing up. To know that at his young age…interesting.

“And what is wrong with a princess tea party? My dad used to come to mine all the time. Not that I’ve had a tea party in years.” Nayeli's nose wrinkles, and her chin quivers.

Havoc squats down, pulling off his sunglasses. “A tea party sounds like fun. And you’re right, a pink sparkly bike would look amazing.”

“You really think so?” A hint of a smile tilts up her lips.

Havoc is good with kids.

“Sure do!”

“Havoc and Rogue.”

I turn as Havoc stands up. “Pitt.”

“You’re the ones Maddox called.” Pitt walks up to us, stopping near Nayeli.

The smirk on his face begs to meet my fist. “Yup.” We don’t know what the job is for, but for the kind of money Maddox mentioned, we aren’t all that picky.

Pitt laughs. Then looks down at the little girl. “Time for lunch.” He scoops her up and gently tosses her over his shoulder. Her little giggles trail behind them.

That little cutie is related to the crazy man who thinks it’s fun to throw around hand grenades. Makes sense. “We better get going.”

The boys don’t follow us down the cobblestone street as we walk away.

“Nayeli needs a pink motorcycle.” Havoc’s evil grin says it all.

“Done.” I’ll need to make sure it can’t go too fast so that she won’t get hurt. Pitt is going to lose his mind. “He might toss a grenade at us.”

“Probably.”

Better add some sparkles to it just to make sure she keeps the bike.

The amount of money these people must have in order to keep this neighborhood up makes my head hurt.

Our MC does well. Our various business endeavors keep us in top-shelf booze and give us the freedom to get up and go whenever we want.

But this…the handcrafted wrought-iron work everywhere had to cost millions.

After dabbling in it on occasion, it’s easy to see just how much workmanship was needed for each of the hundreds, probably thousands of pieces around Willow Street.

The doors we step through into Maddox’s office building are not only stunning works of art but also structured and thick enough to stop a tank if braced properly.

Why do I think these guys thought about that fact?

After a short trip up the elevator, we stop outside of the home of the Deathadders aka Maddox’s office.

“We need to start asking him to come to us.” I should have taken a shot before coming, either of whiskey or valium. Neither one of them would probably be strong enough to fully prepare me for what’s inside of this room. Dead bodies would be less terrifying.

“Agreed.” Havoc steps in first.

The walls move. Slithering strips of vibrant pain and death surround us with only a thin piece of glass as protection. My skin crawls along with it and every hair on my neck and arms stands on end. How can anyone relax and work with all these venomous snakes encompassing them?

Havoc freezes in place.

Did one of them escape…Vex! What is he doing here?

Maddox must know his reputation. Anyone crazy enough to keep vipers and cobras is probably insane enough to make friends with a psyco like Vex.

My body says to run or pull my weapon. Like either of those things will keep me safe from him. I’ve won my fair share of bar fights. Rumor has it that Vex killed an entire bar full of men with a knife and his bare hands.

“Havoc, Rogue. Thank you for coming.” Maddox walks up and greets us with a nod and an almost friendly smile. “Have you met Vex?”

No one meets Vex voluntarily.

“No.” Havoc gives him a nod.

“We have a job for your club.” Maddox gestures to a table and chairs well away from the walls of death, but closer to Vex.

The snakes seem more inviting.

Wait. He said ‘we’. No way. There’s no way in the world we’re doing a job for Vex. If something goes wrong… No. We should have run. Or gone to a tea party with Nayeli.

“What kind of job?” Havoc asks as we sit down.

“It should be pretty simple. We need bodyguards for one night.”

“What?” There’s no way Vex needs someone protecting him.

“Vex’s wife, Dahlia, and my girlfriend, Mindy, have decided to go out for a night on the town.”

Vex is married!?! WHAT? No sane woman would get within fifty feet of that man. Not to mention the fact that he looks like he chews nails for breakfast and wants to murder everyone around him.

“They refuse to have us with them for their festivities. But we can’t allow them to go around without protection.”

Maddox is serious. That means…He’s dating too. Rumor was he was a monk or hermit or something weird like that. In all the years Maddox has been running Willow Street, no one has ever seen him with a woman. At least, not that they talked about.

Maddox, the monk, found a girlfriend.

“That makes sense. But why not use T&T Security?” Havoc asks.

Good point. Anyone but us. I’m pretty sure if we hand that Nayeli kid a grenade, she’d do a fairly decent job at keeping them safe.

“Not enough of them were available on such short notice. Our women and their friends plan on jumping through bars and clubs all night. If they start seeing the same people, they’ll catch on.

So, all we’ll need are four men of yours at each of the last three clubs.

As we mentioned, we’re willing to pay your club one hundred thousand dollars for that service. ”

One…hundred… thousand…dollars for a few hours of work across twelve of us. “What’s the catch?”

Havoc raises an eyebrow at me.

I shouldn’t have poked the beast. But still, that kind of money seems too good to be true. Only a fool gives away money for nothing.

“No catch. Your job would be to make sure none of the women are accosted while they have fun.”

Vex glares at us as he stands by the bar, clenching his massive fists around a crystal tumbler filled with two fingers of whiskey. It’s going to shatter if he squeezes it anymore.

“There’s always a catch.” Shut up before you get us killed. Just take the job and run. Literally run.

“Trouble finds my wife,” Vex mumbles as his knuckles turn white.

What does that mean?

“We’ll take the job,” Havoc says before I can ask any more stupid questions. “When is it?”

“Tonight.”

He wasn’t kidding about the last-minute thing. We’re going to have to hustle to find brothers that are available. When they hear about their cut, they’ll get unbusy fast. We just need to be careful with the Vex part.

“We’ll need pictures of the women to ensure we keep an eye on the right ones and a schedule of where they will be.” Havoc pulls out his phone.

“The list isn’t final yet. Here are the pictures of Mindy and Dahlia. For the rest, you’ll just have to go with the flow. The itinerary so far is listed by time and location.” Maddox hands over a folder.

These women are going to be trashed by the time they reach the twelfth and final bar on their list. Which happens to be a dive bar in our neck of the woods. “Are you sure about these choices?”

“We’ll keep you updated if there are any changes. If there are any problems, you will contact us immediately.”

Havoc flips through the papers as Maddox speaks.

A librarian…Vex married a librarian? Fine, she’s smoking hot, but all she needs are some horn-rimmed glasses and books in her arms to finish the look.

Though, who am I to talk? The world would expect me to date a girl in skimpy leather without a brain, but my type tends more towards baristas.

Which hasn’t worked out well for me. As soon as they suggest hemp and tofu, I’m out.

A little crack draws our attention back to Vex.

The glass in his hand isn’t going to make it, but I want to. “We better go.”

“Everything will be ready. You don’t have to worry. We won’t let anything happen to your women.” Havoc plays nice.

“It better not. If Dahlia gets so much as a paper cut, you’ll be begging me to kill you.”

***

“Why did we take this job?” I ask as soon as we step out onto the brick sidewalk.

“Lots of money. And a lack of fear.” Havoc is lying through his teeth.

“Hopefully, Vex’s wife isn’t as much trouble as they seem to think.” Because if she is, we might have just signed our own death certificates.

“What do you think is up with that kid?” Havoc looks towards the lanky kid from before.

Everett is walking down the other side of the street, playing with a phone like every other teenager in existence.

“He’s smart. Smarter than they want us to know.” Which is saying something.

“Wanna go recruiting?”

Recruiting… Havoc means steal him from the Deathadders. “Sounds like fun.”

We walk over.

“Hey, Everett. I’m Havoc, President of The Children of Chaos Motorcycle Club, which also owns Chaos Rides. We were wondering if you would like a job.”

The kid stops and stares at us. “Doing what exactly?”

Havoc gives me the look.

What could we have a smart kid do that he wouldn’t find boring? “Learn to build the most unique custom bikes on this side of the country. We teach our interns every step of the process, from design all the way to fabrication.”

“Not interested. I already have an internship. And my boss doesn’t take kindly to poaching.”

“Maddox would be fine with it,” Havoc lies with a straight face.

“He’s not my boss. Rage Vincenti is.”

The billionaire mob heir? Poaching this kid sounds like a very bad idea. Almost as bad as protecting Vex’s wife.

Next time Maddox calls, Havoc better not answer.