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Story: Vegas (Stormy Souls MC #1)
“Who dares?” I growl into my cell. I don’t need this at five a.m., especially after only returning from a run at three. This better be good!
“Jamie, sorry to disturb you, but I have to be at work at six and my car isn’t starting.” My sister’s apologetic voice reaches me half asleep. I sit up and rub my stubbled chin.
“Can’t Nathan help?” I growl, and Ashley sighs.
“He didn’t come home last night.”
“I’ll be there in ten minutes, Ash. Tell Nathan I’ll kick his ass for this!”
“Thanks, Jamie, you’re the best,” Ash replies softly.
Here I am, Raven, President of the Stormy Souls MC and supposed tough nut, going softy for my little sister. I shove my feet in my boots, since I didn’t bother getting undressed before collapsing into bed a few hours ago, I shove my feet into my boots, grab my cut and keys to one of the club’s cages, and head out. I know she won’t ride on the back of my bike. She hates everything to do with the club since her mom—my stepmother—drank herself to death and our father ended up behind bars for the rest of his life.
Our father is a piece of shit, and I guess will remain so until he pops his clogs. The world will be a better place without Stone in it. First- and second-degree murder convictions saw him incarcerated ten years ago, eight of those years having been spent on death row in Nebraska. His shit almost cost me my family. Ashley carries the scars of that day, but thank fuck, she made it out alive. She and Nathan are all that remains of my family. My blood family, that is.
Stone, the founding President of the Stormy Souls, groomed me from a young age to follow in his footsteps. When I turned nineteen, I prospected the hard way. The club was a true outlaw 1%er club back then. It was tough, and I don’t remember the hazing fondly, but I did my year handling the shittiest jobs imaginable. My patch-in party was epic, not that I remember much of it, and every day since, I’ve worn my cut and displayed our patch proudly.
Under Stone, we were heavily involved in extortion, prostitution, and gun and drugs running. Eventually Stone turned crazed by greed, resulting in several members ending up in prison or dead and the club almost destroyed. He hadn’t even stopped to save his own daughter. She’d have burned to a crisp had she not run away that night with Nathan. The thought makes me shudder.
But a lot has changed since those days. I became VP under Stone two years before his arrest. After his arrest, the brothers voted me into the top spot, and I put my all into proving myself and changing the club for the better. Enough of our brothers’ blood had been spilled.
Slowly, bit by bit, we turned the club around. Now, we’re a thriving MC with several successful businesses bringing in good money, and although we’re not rich, we no longer have to worry about RICO and the boys in blue.
We own a bar, a custom bike garage, and run our own security business, and a tattoo shop is in the planning.
When the club was started, they bought an old farm on the outskirts of Duluth, in sleepy Arnold, close to Mud Lake. It has a lot of surrounding land and outbuildings, including an old World War II underground bunker which we’ve converted for our own use. A large, two-story farmhouse with a full-sized cellar was renovated and now boasts rooms for the members upstairs, a bar and common room, a large industrial kitchen, my office, and, of course, church.
The cellar has been converted to an underground garage with gates and an exit ramp. It serves as our bike and general storage as well as a safe room, should we ever need one. The bar and common area is equipped with a giant screen TV, a pool table, sofas, tables and chairs, as well as lots of free party space. And for our amusement, a pole for the bunnies to use.
The club officers have cabins on the property, each cabin usually shared by two officers. As the President, I have my own cabin. It’s a similar size to the others, but I live on my own, so I’ve converted it into an apartment.
I yawn, rub my gritty eyes, and shake myself out of my tired thoughts as I pull into my sister’s driveway.
Ashley is standing outside waiting for me. Hopping out of the truck, I walk around and open the passenger door for her. Before I know what hits me, she throws her arms around me and whispers, “Sorry, Jamie. Thank you for coming to the rescue.”
I close my arms around her and hug her tight.
“No problem, Ash. I’m always here for you,” I grumble into her short black hair before gently pushing her into the truck and climbing in the driver’s side. “I’ll get one of the prospects to pick your car up and bring it to the garage and let you know when it’s done. I’ll send one of the boys to pick you up tonight if it’s not finished
“You look tired. I’m so sorry to drag you out here.” Ashley sighs. “Maybe it’s time to look for a new car. I don’t have a clue what’s wrong with it. Any idea who will pick me up?” She looks at me expectantly.
“Likely Elijah or Greg. We’re busy, so it’ll fall deep into prospect territory.” I cast a glance at my sister, who looks as tired as me. “Is Nate being a problem?” I ask.
“No, not really. He’s just a normal nineteen-year-old, doing his own thing. He stayed at a party last night. All above board, though.” I bring the cage to a stop in front of her work, and she leans over to kiss my cheek. “Thanks for doing this, Jamie,” she says.
“No problem, sis, any time.” I grin at her before putting the truck in gear and heading home to my warm bed. I need a few extra hours of sleep to be able to face the world.