Anarchist

Chapter 9: LAW

I didn't have to rush to do anything about Dana's situation now since I had what I needed, so now I could take a minute to deal with my own s**t.

Sam, like I said, is a relatively new member, he'd prospected for a good year and a half before moving up, and now he was a full member.

He was a nice enough kid, but he had one flaw that was about to land his ass in a whole heap of trouble.

I'd let things slide for too long because I was trying to give the kid a break, but a man's gotta be a f*****g man; otherwise, s**t happens.

Sam had taken up with one of the sheep, and it was getting serious. To each his own, if he wants to plow a field that had been trampled by other men, that was his business.

She's a nice enough girl, I guess if just a little high-strung. I don't do high-strung.

I stay out of her way as much as possible because she tends to be bossy, and I tend to not give a f**k. So to avoid petty bullshit drama, I avoid too much contact with her.

Plus, the fact that I f****d her sister once in a drunken stupor, and the two of them seem to think that gives them special license. I hate that s**t as if I'm ruled by my d**k or some f**k.

The sister's been trying to get me to f**k her sober, but she doesn't know I'd rather scald my d**k with liquid nitrogen than get anywhere near her overused cunt again.

I haven't drunk to excess since that night; too much f**k can go wrong when you do that s**t. I'm not into indiscriminate s*x, though I have been known to bed a few women in my time.

The night I'd gotten drunk and bedded the camp slut was the anniversary of my family's death. For some reason, I hated her even more for making me soil their memory between her legs.

It was f****d up thinking, but I haven't been thinking straight since I got the news in a foreign land that my life had been f****d six ways from Sunday.

No time to think about that s**t right now. If there was one thing I'd learned and learned well in the army, it was strategy. A general must always be thinking on his feet.

No situation must ever appear to catch him off guard, even if he'd been caught with his pants around his ankles and his d**k in his hand.

I knew that if I was going to do what my mind was telling me, I needed to take care of some s**t on my end first, and there wasn't much time to waste.

Out of respect for Sam, I'd already had a little talk with him about what might be coming. He'd been a little bummed, but he wanted the club more than he wanted her, so there goes that.

"Hey, Sheila, where's your boy?" She was in the kitchen when I walked in, her face sour.

"He went over to the clubhouse; you know I could use some help around here sometimes, too, ya know.

I need the leak fixed in the bathroom sink, and I have to go into town, but instead, you've got him practically babysitting some teenage runaway..."

"Oh, I see; we have a conflict of interest here. You seem to have a problem with the way I do things, and I seem not to give a f**k about what you think.

Well, since this is my place and I own every f*****g thing on it, you'll have to get the f**k out since I don't plan on sharing my position with you."

Her mouth dropped open in shock, but I wasn't done. "You have two hours to get your s**t together and be gone, and do me a favor, don't bother coming back." I left her there to think about what the f**k she'd done to herself.

She had been taken in along with her sister because they'd had nowhere else to go. A family home rife with violence and living way below the poverty level hadn't given them too many prospects for a happy future.

The guys had gone to their rescue one night when their old man had been beating the hell out of them and had thrown their s**t out on the street.

They had been fine for the first couple of weeks or so, but then they started showing their asses.

The sister, Luanne, was a slut, plain and simple. I'm not sure if she'd been one before she came here or if she had read somewhere that women who attached themselves to an MC had to be that way.

Whatever the case, she'd made herself into a sheep and seemed to like that s**t, so who was I to tell her different. She was over twenty-one.

Then came the night that I'd drank too much because memories of my parents and my baby sister and what had been done to them had been riding me hard.

I don't really remember much of what happened that night; I just remember waking up with her all over me on the pool table in the game room and my d**k out of my pants.

I'd taken my ass to the doctor first thing and hadn't gone near her since, no matter how much she tried to get me to f**k.

I'm not a biker; I ride a bike. I'm not a leader of an MC, but f**k if I don't have a team of men under me asking me what moves to make and when.

I'm just an ex-soldier who's looking for vengeance for the blood of his kin; all this other s**t just got thrown at me.

I wondered if I should get rid of the sister as well while I was at it, but I knew I would be blaming her for my own mistake if I did that because she hadn't done anything to deserve banishment. Still...

I gave myself a few minutes to get my thoughts together. My life didn't look anything like I'd expected it to. I thought for sure by now I would be married with a kid or two under my belt.

A family that followed me around the world while I did what I loved, defending my country.

Instead, I was living like an almost outlaw with vengeance as my only bed partner and hate my constant companion.

I saw her face in my mind, Dana's, and my heart twisted at what this was going to do to her.

It was good that I still had a bit of the man my mother had raised in there, but it wasn't going to make a difference.

I'm still going to do whatever I have to do, even if it means using a young innocent to get to my enemy.