As much as I wanted her, Healer was right. Remi wasn’t ready, and she knew nothing of the life I led. It was bad enough having her in the club for protection, but to expose her to the truth of what we were and what we did, well, I just couldn’t take that chance.
She was everything right in this world.
I was all the wrong.
The Golden Skulls on the outside looked like a typical Motorcycle Club. Rough bikers, parties, loads of women ready to fuck, and sleds…lots of bikes. We party hard and fuck harder. Yes, we help our community give local businesses and even once a year held a toy drive for kids. But that’s what we want the civilians to see. What most didn’t know was what we did behind the scenes.
With a few selected clubs around the United States, the Golden Skulls were part of a big operation that not only offered services to select individuals for a specific need and price, but the club also tracked down and eliminated human traffickers around the world. The club had worked in conjunction with the Federal Bureau of Investigation, Homeland, and any other agency to bring down these criminals.
It all started when my granddad took over the Golden Skulls back in the sixties. The pigs needed an in, and the club required cash flow. It was slow going at first, but when Granddad and the club helped take down a central sex trafficking ring in Virginia, everyone realized the validity of what they were doing. Since then, every year, there would be a big meet disguised as a Club Run to discuss and decide on the next course of action. Over the years, some of the pigs even became patched members of the club, not wanting to stop or give up on finding these assholes. Before he was a Golden Skull, men like my Uncle Peter ran the FBI's Chicago Division of Human Trafficking.
Yep, that’s right…my uncle is a pig.
Well, former pig, and though Hellhound was proud of his service, it wasn’t something he wanted anyone to know. I only knew because I took over as president after my Pops passed.
Talk about a shock.
Over the years, the Club helped take down several men and women, but never the big fish. It seemed every time we apprehended or killed these fuckers, fifty more would spring up. It was a never-ending fucking disgusting cycle of depravity. It sucked, and the nightmares took their toll even on the toughest of men.
Good men, honest men, have lost themselves over the years because of the shit they’d seen or done. This business wasn’t for the weak, but the end justified the means in my book. For every fucker we killed or sent up the creek was one more kid we saved.
The waitress returned with a bottle of scotch and a single glass. Setting it on the small table before me, she said nothing and quickly left, leaving me alone.
I had just poured my drink when Smoke, Hellhound, and Player walked over and sat down next to me.
“Where’s Healer?” I asked after I downed the warm liquid.
“Kitty went into labor. So, he went to help,” Hellhound offered as he grabbed the bottle and drank it directly from the spout.
“Fuck,” I murmured, rubbing my face. “Did someone let Savage know?”
“Yeah, Lenny got em’ sprung about an hour ago. He’s pissed cause he’s gonna miss it, but happy he’s gonna be an uncle.”
“What about Bullseye?”
“Well, that’s what Healer wanted me to ask ya. He wants to know if he should call him?”
“Up to Kitty. If she wants him to know, she can ask Healer to make the call. If she does, someone needs to babysit Savage. Not gonna like it if one of my enforcers kills the other.”
“Fucked up situation, man.”
“Yeah, well, Kitty didn’t help matters.”
About a year ago, while Savage was on an assignment, Kitty and Bullseye hooked up one night in Vegas. It was odd, considering Kitty hardly ever came around the club, and only if necessary. How she even met Bullseye in Nevada, none of us knew, and Bullseye wasn’t talkin’, but when Kitty came up pregnant and informed her brother Savage who the father was, well, shit hit the fan. Took three mother fuckin days to calm the beast down, and even now, none of us could mention Bullseye’s name in his presence without him punching a funking hole in something. So, to settle the drama, I sent Bullseye to Tennessee to help with another chapter. What Savage or the other brothers didn’t know was that Bullseye was already back in Purgatory, just laying low until I needed him.
Bullseye came to the club through me. Met the rotten bastard while I was in Mississippi helping take down a ring of unmentionables. At the time, Bullseye was with the US Marines at Camp Lejeune as a sharpshooter when his childhood friend came up missing. Apparently, they were close. Close enough for Bullseye to go AWOL and hunt the fucker who took her. That’s when we met. Come to find out, we were looking for the same asshole. Needless to say, we did find the fucker, and a couple girls. However, Bullseye's best friend had already been sold and was in the wind. Bullseye lost it. That man became a one-man killing machine. After it was all said and done, it took my resources and the FBI to keep Bullseye out of jail, but there was nothing we could do about his military service. He was dishonorably discharged and given his walking papers. That’s when I asked him to help the Golden Skulls, and he jumped at the chance.
“What are we gonna do about the kid? By-laws state that unless Bullseye claims the kid, Kitty’s gotta go. If that happens, Savage is going to lose his shit man. He loves his sister.”
“I know,” I replied, adding the drama of Savage, Kitty, and Bullseye to my never-ending fucking list of shit to deal with. I oughta’ kick Bullseye’s ass for fucking a brother’s sister, Savage’s ass for costing me a brother for the last year, and Kitty’s for not keeping her fucking legs closed.
“Got a call from Darrin,” Player said before taking a drink. Darrin Reynolds was my FBI contact and liaison to the special task force a select few of us were part of. I hated keeping information from the brothers, but most of them couldn’t stand the pigs, and asking them to work alongside them would be asking too much, so only a small handful was aware. I knew the day would come when the whole club would find out, and knowing most of them, I would lose a fair few, but those who stayed would be able to help, even lighten the load to where we could eventually send out more teams and save more people.
That was the primary goal. It always had been. To make the streets a safer place for kids, women, and men without fear of being kidnapped and sold into slavery. No human being needs that kind of life, ever.
“He confirmed the meet next month and said he has another recruit he thinks would fit well with us. Also, he gave us another file. Fucker is close to us, Reaper. In our backyard. Reynolds wants us to investigate and send him our findings. However, he did say that if the fucker has a kid, we are authorized to snatch and grab.”
Snatch and Grab. Code for taking the kid, kill the fucker.