1
ALPHA
“Alpha!Ripper! Blade! Get the fuck in here!”
The three of us throw down our cards and take the stairs two at a time to Eagle-eye’s office. When the president of the Screaming Eagles MC calls your name, you fucking listen. When he bellows it out in a blast of dragon fire, you’re with him before the ash settles on the fucking floor.
“Here, Prez.” Ripper is first through the door, giving a mock salute with the arm that ends just above his wrist in an inky black tattoo. “What do you need?”
“Whatever it is, we’re on it,” I add, folding my arms across my chest.
Blade stops in the doorway, leaning against the frame and idly playing with one of the knives up his sleeve. It flicks into his palm like magic, then vanishes so fucking quickly you wouldn’t hardly think it was ever there. He gives a curt nod, his dark gaze locked on Eagle-eye.
Prez is in his early fifties. Solid as a rock, even if the silver’s just starting to win the war in his dark hair. One of his eyes is milky white, the other hard as steel as it slides over each of us in turn. “Watch.” He holds up his phone and starts a video.
A pretty, young woman appears with a taped up cardboard box in front of her. It looks like she’s standing behind a store counter. She’s holding a pair of scissors and saying something about finding out what’s inside.
Ripper gives Eagle-eye a confused look. “I’m sure this is gonna be hilarious, but you could’ve just shared it to the group chat. I thought we were about to go into fucking lockdown again.”
“Shut up and watch.”
It’s no hardship. She’s a gorgeous little thing, with that sexy librarian vibe. Thick hair that falls in gentle waves, dark but flashing red in the light, a cute button nose, nice, full blowjob lips, and a pair of big, hazel eyes that look even bigger because of her quirky, thick-framed glasses. I’ve never paid much attention to the nerdy girls, but I’d have to be blind not to see the appeal.
Ripper lets out a low whistle. “I’d take her for a ride, no question.”
“No argument here,” I agree. I don’t know if anyone’s ever caught my attention that quickly before. It’s like animal fucking magnetism.
Behind us, Blade makes a choking noise and jabs me in the side.
“What the fuck, man?”
“Keep it in your pants or I’ll fucking cut your balls off. That’s Faith, you assholes.” Eagle-eye’s voice is low, slow and deathly flat. Curled up at his master’s feet, Jupiter, his boxer dog, raises his head and whines.
Fuck. “Isn’t your daughter like twelve?” I could’ve fucking sworn his kid was still, well, a kid.
“No, sure, yeah.” Ripper’s no coward, but I don’t blame him for backpedaling like his life depends on it, or at least his balls. “You’ve got a beautiful daughter, boss. I bet she’s lovely. Would never think of touching her.”
Eagle-eye glares at us like he’s debating if he’s going to let it slide or put a bullet between our eyes. “She’s twelve in the fuckingpictureon my desk, which has been there for longer than any of you dickheads. Do some God damned math.”
“Sorry.” I nod respectfully, but maybe he should think about updating that fucking picture so the rest of us are warned before he springs shit like this on us.
The grunt he gives us isn’t gracious, but at least I figure he won’t shoot us in the back as we walk out either. “Just fucking watch.”
It’s easier to pay attention once I know she’s off limits, but it doesn’t mean I stop thinking about her. Faith’s voice is deep. Sultry, with a nice, rich tone to it. The kind that moans so you feel it through your chest. “Hey there, bookbuds!” She smiles, lighting up Eagle-eye’s screen. “Is this from one of you? I don’t remember ordering anything for the shop recently, but let’s open it together and find out.”
Wouldn’t mind finding out a whole lot of things together with her.
Fuck. Eagle-eye’s daughter. Gotta keep that in my fucking head.
Faith slits the tape and we all wince when she nicks her thumb and draws a sharp hiss of pain. “Shit.” The video shakes as she wraps a tissue around her finger. She makes the final cut a lot more carefully than the first. The box pops open revealing a bunch of old shit. The kind of stuff you’d find in an attic and wonder why anyone bothered.
She pulls out a couple of knives, some papers and… Is that a fucking VHS tape? What century is this box from?
“Hah! Talk about retro.” She picks up the tape and examines it in front of the camera, turning it in every direction. “No labels or anything. Do you think it’s someone’s home movie? I don’t think I’ve ever held one. Even Mom’s old DVDs are packed away somewhere in her basement. What’s the point when you can stream everything?” she asks the camera, then returns her attention to the tape. “It makes me curious, though. I hope it’s something fun like a wedding and not the honeymoon if you know what I mean.” Her laugh is bright, and it’s infectious enough that I feel the corners of my own mouth twitching a little. “I’ll find a player. There are always a ton of old electronics at the secondhand shop.”
She sets the tape on the counter and aims the camera back into the box. Under a stack of old folders is what looks like a black leather jacket, all cracked and folded up. Faith pulls it out and turns it over, revealing an MC patch of a skull with a snake coiling through the eyes. Pit Vipers is embroidered underneath in a faded blood red font.
“Fuck,” hisses Blade. Obviously, it means more to him than it does to me. I’ve heard the name but don’t really know shit about them