Page 11

Sypher

August 11, 2023, Soulless Sinners’ clubhouse,

Dante got the call right after we had just climbed into bed about the shit that went down at the pier between the Bratva and the club. To make things more interesting, Dante informed me that Harbor Security was also present, which created a massive clusterfuck.

Quickly getting dressed, we rushed from his apartment and headed to the clubhouse to find total pandemonium.

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” Montana’s roar filled the room as Bane, the club’s doctor, worked quickly to staunch the bleeding from his shoulder. Over in the corner, Maxim Fedorov sat on the floor beside Vladmir while Rurik tended to his wounds.

“Stop moving,” Bane growled.

“Fuck off, Bane, it’s fine!”

“A gunshot to your shoulder is not fine.”

“We’ve got more incoming!” Mercy shouted from the door as Harbor Security walked in, lugging Dmitry and two more Soulless Sinners.

“Someone want to tell me what the fuck happened tonight?!” Matthew Law shouted as he marched into the clubhouse. “I know you fucknuts have your own way of doing shit, but you interfered in my OP!”

“Your OP?” Montana struggled to get up, but Bane forcefully pushed him back into his seat. “Since when does the fucking military do clandestine shit on U.S. soil?”

“Someone contracted with my firm to capture and contain Konstantin Baranov.”

“Who?”

“I did,” Illyria declared, walking into the clubhouse, along with Cesare Vitale and his brothers, all stopping to look around when her eyes landed on her husband, and she rushed over to him.

The clubhouse was total chaos. Everywhere I looked there were brothers, Russians, and even a few Harbor Security men wounded, bleeding out, desperately needing medical attention.

Dante leaned close and whispered, “This isn’t good.”

“No, it isn’t,” I replied as Maxim roared, halting all conversations around the clubhouse.

“Scour the city. Vasiliev couldn’t have gone far. I want him found. Now!”

“We’ll find him, boss,” Rurik firmly stated before snapping his fingers at the rest of the Bloodletter’s men, when in walked a familiar face, grinning like a fucking lunatic, dragging an unconscious man behind him.

Illyria gasped. “Dwayne?”

“Well, my night just got a hell of a lot better,” Montana sneered, pushing Bane out of the way as he stood, growling.

Throwing Shasha Vasiliev onto the floor, Massacre grinned. “Hiya, boys. Lose something?”

“Oh shit.” I grinned. “This is gonna be a fun night.”

“Where the fuck have you been?” Montana asked Massacre as all of us sat around the common room of the Soulless Sinners’ clubhouse.

“Did what you told me to do, asshole,” Massacre sneered, while Illyria leaned over and grabbed her cousin’s hand. Massacre smiled at her, before leaning over and kissing her cheek.

“We sent Mercy and Vladmir to meet you at the pickup point. You weren’t there. They only found your patch. What the fuck happened?”

“Petrovitch’s men found me. There was a shootout. I thought you might shed a tear if I came back with holes in me, so I ran. Where is Reaper?”

“Killing at random,” Montana replied, his tone serious and foreboding. “Why didn’t you come in? This clubhouse is open. Any brother would have aided you.”

“Yeah, you ain’t Golden, so excuse me if I don’t trust you,” my brother said while I snickered, only to have Ace slap me upside the back of the head.

Glaring at my brother, I sneered, “Fucking hit me again and I will gut you.”

Before Ace could respond, Massacre asked, “Where are Giovanni and the others?”

“Gio, Lorenzo, and Antonio left for the island last week,” Illyria whispered, her eyes downcast before she added, “Dwayne, Sal is dead. Panchenko killed him.”

“Reggie?”

“In Tennessee with the Golden Skulls, Mr. Massacre,” I piped up. “They are safe.”

“How? Did you not get my warning?” Massacre asked angrily, looking about the room. “I sent a coded text before they made me.”

“What message?” Maxim asked. “Massacre, we haven’t heard from you in months. We thought you were dead until we received your text for help.”

“I sent a warning. Petrovitch knew about your marriage to Illyria. He knows about your son. He wants the kid’s head on a spike.”

Illyria paled.

“Our son is safe, Massacre,” Maxim firmly stated.

“You sure about that? Petrovitch knows you contracted with Harbor Security.”

Turning to Mr. Law, the man was on his feet and talking quickly into his phone while my brother did the same. While I knew the men from Harbor Security were good, I wasn’t going to bet my life on that. Running from the room, I went to get a computer to do what I did best.

Seconds later, I ran back into the room with my laptop. Placing it on the table near them, I started typing fast. “Give me one second.”

“Kid, there is no fucking way you can break into the Olympian Group’s servers. They are the best in the world. Not to mention the Disturbed MC. Forget about it. Let us handle this,” Mr. Law shouted.

“I’m in!” I smiled. “Mr. Montana, Tessa and York are fine.”

“My son?” Maxim asked, sitting up.

I turned my laptop and smiled as Illyria and Maxim looked on while a woman rocked their son in her arms as she fed him a bottle.

“Dammit, Danny!” my brother cupped his phone to his chest and shouted at me from across the room, “Do you know how many people you just pissed off? Hawk is losing his shit!”

Massacre chuckled. “God, I missed you, kid.”

I beamed proudly as Bane walked into the room.

“Alright. Malice will live. Fucker is mean as hell and refusing any more treatment. Silver is sleeping. The bullet entered her side. It was a through and through. No damage. Storm twisted his ankle, and Fury hit his head. He’s going to have a nasty headache for a few days. Maxim… Dmitry took a shot to the gut. I’m taking him to First Presbyterian Hospital.”

“Will he live?”

“I’ll know more when I get inside him.”

Turning to Rurik, Maxim held up four fingers as Rurik turned and pointed to four men to follow and guard Dmitry until the coast was clear.

“Payne, Montana is not to leave this clubhouse until he takes those antibiotics I gave him. He doesn’t take them, shove them down his throat,” Bane ordered, heading for the door.

“I’m the fucking president of this club, asshole. Not you!” Montana shouted at his retreating figure.

“Then quit being a pussy and take the pills!”

“Fucking asshole,” the grouchy president muttered when Payne walked over and slapped a bottle of pills in front of him. Montana begrudgingly reached for the bottle, popped the cap, and took two pills.

Payne grinned as he walked away.

“Don’t know about you, Maxim, but I am ready to get some answers,” Montana said, getting to his feet. “The rest of you, the bar is open. Help yourselves.”

Sometime later, all of them returned to the main room of the clubhouse, and Massacre angrily stopped Maxim getting in his face. “What the fuck was that back there?”

“What do you mean?”

“The kids. Really? Is that how you do shit in your fucked-up organization?”

“Bratva isn’t for everyone. Can’t handle it? I suggest you go back to your little motorcycle club.”

“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say after everything I’ve fucking done for you? Well, fuck you, man,” Massacre spat angrily. “Golden Skulls don’t barter kids to get what we want.”

“And neither do I, Massacre.” Maxim sighed. “Look, Massacre, I wouldn’t use those girls any more than I would my son or your nephew, for that matter. Unlike most of my brethren, there are certain lines even I won’t cross. I wanted you to go recover those girls so I could ensure they had a proper burial. The sins of their father have no bearing on them. Not in my eyes. Those girls need to be put to rest.”

“You mean it?”

“I will see to it myself, cousin,” Illyria assured, walking over to stand by her husband. “I’ll call Father Dominic and make the arrangements. I’m sure Malice will help. He has a soft spot for children. We will make certain that the girls receive a proper and dignified burial.”

“Well, it seems after our little visit to California, Angelica did a runner,” Montana said, storming into the common room. “Dakota thought something was fishy and moved Remi and the kids that night. They are now with Kansas in Diamondback country.”

“Don’t you think that’s a little obvious? I mean, Kansas is your brother. Petrovitch knows about him, and if he’s inclined, he wouldn’t think twice about using him against you.”

Montana laughed. “I’d like to see him try. Kansas is the president of the Diamondbacks, after all. Plus, Arizona is there babysitting him, in case shit goes sideways. Add in Dakota and his military friends and I dare Petrovitch to step foot in Lawton, Oklahoma. Motherfucker won’t live to see nightfall.”

“So, who’s still left of Petrovitch’s men?” Massacre asked.

“Just one, boss. Brevin Smirnov,” Vladmir confirmed, walking slowly toward the group, holding his stomach as Massacre growled.

“What can you tell us about him?” Maxim asked.

“Fucker’s a sadist. Bastard loves beating the shit out of women. Gets off on it.”

“Well, that narrows down the establishments to search,” Montana muttered, frowning. “There are only three BDSM clubs that I know of that would allow that form of sexual torture, and one of them is in Las Vegas. Not too far from Los Angeles.”

Agreeing, Maxim added, “There is one in Seattle, Washington as well. The Cave is highly exclusive and requires extensive background checks and a full psychological workup. I highly doubt that Tony Marconi would allow someone like Smirnov into his club.”

“And neither would Carter Jefferson. The man runs a clean house. So, the Vegas club is out,” Montana added as Malice walked over with Vicious.

“That leaves the Trick Pony, in Miami, Florida.”

And just like that, I paid close attention.

Montana shook his head at his enforcer and growled, “No. Absolutely not.”

“You know he won’t see anyone else, Prez. It has to be me.”

“The fuck it does!” The sound of Montana’s roar caused a stir among the Soulless Sinner brothers, as several of them stood up, their expressions showing worry and unease.

“I can send Massacre. Hell, I’m sure Maxim can send someone. It doesn’t have to be you.”

“Montana, what is the problem?” Maxim asked, confused.

Montana cursed. “The fucking problem is the Trick Pony is owned and operated by Devlin Scott.”

“And?”

“My sperm donor,” Malice growled.

“So let me get this straight.” Maxim sighed, rubbing his forehead, looking around the boardroom. “Malice’s biological father owns a BDSM club in Miami, Florida that caters to a select group of individuals with specialized sexual needs. The same club that we’re almost positive that Brevin Smirnov is hiding out in, and the only way to get Smirnov is to ask Malice to call his father.”

“Not my father,” the angry enforcer growled.

“It’s more than that,” Payne grumbled. “Malice would have to see him in person and that’s what we can’t allow.”

“Not your choice,” the grumpy man replied, folding his arms across his chest. “It’s the only way and you know it.”

“The fuck it is, brother,” Mercy cursed. “We are not letting you anywhere near that son of a bitch.”

“What everyone is dancing around is that Devlin Scott isn’t just the owner of a BDSM club. He’s also the motherfucker that abused and sexually tortured Malice’s sixteen-year-old birth mother. Devlin Scott is a pedophile and serial rapist. We’ve tried for years to get someone in that club to kill his ass, only to be turned away at the door. To make matters worse, he knows about Malice. Every fucking year, that son of a bitch donates one million dollars to Malice’s charity, the Foundation, which he started in memory of his mother. Fucker likes to taunt Malice.”

“If he raped a sixteen-year-old, then why not turn him into the authorities?”

“Because it’s not considered rape if they are married,” Malice rumbled.

“The age of consent in Florida is eighteen,” Maxim stated, confused.

“My birth mother was from Alabama. That son of a bitch raped and tortured my mother. When he found out she was pregnant, he tried to beat me out of her. When he failed, he threw my mother away. Discarded her like trash. He dumped her in Seattle, Washington, where it’s believed my mother gave birth to me on the streets. I was four days old when she dropped me off at a local fire station. The authorities searched high and low, but they did not find my mother. It’s believed she died on the streets. Raised in the system, I aged out at eighteen and had to learn to navigate the world on my own. Eventually, I made my way to New York and found Father Dominic and the Soulless Sinners.”

“If he discarded you and your mother, then how do you know he’s your biological father?” Massacre asked.

“Because when Malice started the Foundation, the fucker showed up at the inaugural ball when the Times ran an article about the Foundation. Malice’s face dominated the headlines of every newspaper. The bastard looks just like him. Right down to the evil glare they both share. The club investigated Devlin Scott extensively, and that’s when we learned the truth of what happened to Malice,” Mercy explained, leaning back in his chair. “The two times Malice has been in a room with the fucker we’ve had to stop Malice from killing him.”

“He likes to taunt Malice with memories of what he did to his mother,” Payne added. “Fucker gets off on it.”

“There has to be a way into that club without sending Malice in,” Storm added.

“What else do you know about the man?” Maxim asked.

“He’s big in the BDSM world. Caters to men and women across the globe. His club is uber exclusive, and you can only get in by personal invitation from the fucktard himself.”

“Um, sorry for interrupting, Mr. Montana, but I know how you can get into that club, and you won’t even need an invitation.”

“How?” Maxim asked, sitting up as Montana groaned.

“My brother. Ace.”

Listening while Maxim and Montana explained the situation, I watched as Ace and the men of Harbor Security mulled over what everyone said.

“What do you say?” Maxim asked, looking at my brother, who sat next to his boss, Mr. Law, surrounded by the rest of Harbor Security. “All we need is verification that Brevin Smirnov is in the club. Once we know he’s there, my men will take over.”

“It’s not going to be that easy,” Ace muttered. “The Trick Pony is under constant surveillance by security personnel. You can’t even scratch your nose without being caught on one of the top-of-the-line surveillance cameras. To even gain access to the club, you must produce a keycard, and that will only get you as far as the reception area, where you must provide a passcode that changes every twenty-four hours to enter the main lobby. And if you manage to get past all that, there is still the biometrics security system.”

“And just how in the hell did a BDSM club get that kind of security?” Maxim asked, curiously.

“I installed it,” Ace replied. “Well, Harbor Security did. Mr. Scott contracted with our firm for the upgrades. Wanted all the bells and whistles.”

“Which means you can disable it.” Maxim grinned, leaning forward, not understanding the problem.

“No,” Mr. Law stated firmly. “We are bound by client confidentiality. When he signed our contract, it bound us to him. If we break into his system, Mr. Scott will hold us liable for millions.”

“But not me.” I smirked. “I’m under no contract, and since Ace used my design, I can hack into it and do whatever I want.”

My brother’s head whipped to mine and he glared at me.

Yeah, that’s right motherfucker. I can do anything I want.

Montana leaned forward and grinned wickedly.

“Kid, I’m starting to like you more and more.”