Devil's Sons M.C. (Manxman)

01

Hunter

You don't know what you have till you lose it. Utter bullshit. A chuckle bubbles from my lips as I remember the saying. More like you do know what you have but sometimes, losing it is necessary for the greater good.

I grab my wallet from the prison guard and pocket it.

I don't miss the dirty looks from them either but what can I say? Oh yes "So long motherfuckers." I yell loudly while throwing the middle finger. Another 17 months stint in county jail has only made me stronger. The ADA had seen all her case crumbling apart, and so she'd settled for the measly illegal weapons charge which had landed me and two other members of the club here.

Freedom is nice and all but sometimes losing it is necessary to protect the club.

Devil's Sons M.C. is all I've ever known. My pops was the former president and now I'm the Vice president. Of course with the way things were proceeding, there's no contending that I was going to be the next president.

"It's all fun and games till you find yourself back here Wilson." Officer.... I don't even remember his name snarls while handing me the paper of release to sign.

I give him a lazy smirk "Tsk tsk no need for the bad thoughts now officer Cox." I outline my signature in the box before sliding the board back to him. Technically this wasn't my first rodeo either, a previous 13 months stint at barely 21 years of age had introduced me into the system. "But since you're already thinking about seeing me again, we could meet up sometime for a drink or two." I turn up the boyish charm, the innocent facet that always got people to lower their guards around me. "Checks on me."

He visibly swallows and I fist bump inwardly. I reach for his palm, he jerks back. I widen my eyes innocently, the lazy smirk still on display. I reach for his hand again and this time he lets me. I graze my thumb softly against his before picking up the pen and writing my number on his palm. "Call me, Officer Cox." With a gentle squeeze I drop his hand and turn around to the exit of the penitentiary. 

"The sun is shining and the day is bright fellas!" That deep baritone voice, I could recognize anywhere anytime. Luke Winslow, the president of the Devil's Sons Stocker Chapter stood outside the county penitentiary alongside the welcome committee. "Y'all look well." He states teasingly.

"Well the Yardie boys came through on protection." The Latino next to me replies.

When the feds had come sweeping through, guns blazing at the clubhouse about two years ago, it'd been three of us caught up in the shit. 'Concealing illegal weapon with intent to sell' was the bullshit charge. To be fair, the ADA was on to something but she just couldn't prove her case and that's mostly because we ran a tight and impenetrable network.

Mule the drugs in for the Armenians to Los Santos and the proceedings from that was used to buy the weapons from the Russians to sell to the Yardie Boys. Of course none of us could be tied to any of this because cash and goods were never at the same spot. Plus we had a pretty sleek cover.

"Of course they did, I guess we owe them a free shipment for goodwill now." A laugh sweeps across all lips at the dramatic eyeroll from the president. "And the guard?"

"Hell bruiser already charmed the pants off him, that's a go-for-one." Cheers and ooh's go around the group. I guess ADA Cox didn't know what she got herself into.

Although I considered myself more of a lover and not a fighter, I opt to outwit instead of outweigh. Hurting for fun just wasn't my thing. Not to say I wouldn't fight back if pushed, Lowell Bisping from 7th grade math class was a testament of that. That also began the nickname 'Bruiser' for me, his face and my knuckles had a homecoming dance.

"He's a rookie, make it painless." I interject. He's an innocent party in all these, just bearing the sins of his family member. Absolutely no need to stretch out the misery.

"You have my word VP." Luke replies, confidence oozing from him upon every word from his mouth. A little sense of relief washes through me at the assurance knowing full well that his word was his bond. "It's good to have you back." We pull into a tight hug.

Nothing greater like the smell of freedom.

I sight my baby sitting quietly next to the truck. So radiant and exquisite, her natural aesthetic beauty always has me wanting and panting day after day to ride her to infinity and beyond. She's the one girl who wouldn't give in to my charm like I'm fallen to hers. She wouldn't put out to me but I didn't mind at all, her love and loyalty is enough for me. I take quick steps towards my Harley Davidson Street 750 with customized body parts done specifically to fit my riding style. She's so perfect for me.

"I took her out for a ride two times a week as you requested, she's a good girl." I chuckle softly at the older man, one of the only two people I could trust with my life. "Here you go." Luke throws my patch and I grab the leather cut jacket easily. The cut was a symbol of brotherhood, a shared identity, a family. It's like the Devil's Sons M.C. was the military and the cut was the camouflage.

I don the jacket, reacquainting myself with the forgotten material after these long months. It felt a little foreign but nothing too bad, far from that as the feeling of belonging envelopes me. I am a part of this club, I've paid my dues and earned the right to line up among my brothers.

With that repeated mantra, I slowly weave my way through the bikes lined up, making my way up front to my spot as the Vice president. Slightly behind the president in formation.

"Wanna do the honors bruiser?" Luke asks.

It's been a while but without much thinking I issue the command "Celebration at the house fellas."

Loud cheers go around as the loud jerking noise of motorcycles begin and the drive to the warehouse begins. The penitentiary way behind us now as we join the long road to Stocker, the breeze hits my face and the soothes my soul. No burdens or grueling thoughts as I maneuver my Harley down the path.