Ace Of Spades (Complete Raw First Draft, Unedited)

Six: Bad Blood

"That's what they all say." He smirked, and Bonnie stopped tattooing to tilt her head questionably. Only she could look that innocent as she was about to roast someone.

"Do girls often tell you they'll never fuck you?"

Ricky stuttered and stumbled over his words for a reply, but came up with nothing, and Bonnie finished the piece in silence while I smirked over my beer. She was right; I really didn't need to babysit her.

"Ace."

I turned at the sound of the gravelly voice and grinned as Beast made his way toward the bar, pulling up a chair beside me. He was as tall as he was wide, wearing a sleeveless blue shirt which showed off the faded tattoos covering his beefy arms, matching the ones across his bald scalp.

He was the president of the Specters, and had been for as long as I could remember. He'd been close to my dad, and to Marcus, I knew, but things had gotten weird between them when Axe went away.

I didn't know what happened, but Marcus rarely spoke to him and never seemed real happy when I told him I'd been around the club.

Beast was a good guy, even with a criminal record as far as the eye could see. He'd helped mum out with making payments after dad went away, despite her firm protests, insisting she wanted nothing to do with him, Axe or the club. He had always looked out for me, even after mum remarried and my family split apart.

I asked Marcus about it one day, thinking maybe he felt sorry for me because I grew up without my dad, but Marcus just told me that there was more to it, and that he'd tell me one day, when I was older. I was still waiting for that day.

"Long time, no see, kiddo," he said as Kelly poured him a beer and refilled my empty glass. "What you been up to?"

"Just the usual," I told him, laughing. "Nothing much changes around here."

"You're not wrong," he agreed. "How are all the old boys?"

"Good," I answered, trying to think if anything worth talking about had happened lately. "Rob's a grandpa again, and the charity ride that Graham put on raked up over seven hundred. But yeah. Not much else really."

Beast laughed, good humored, and slapped me on the back.

"You're wasting your potential in that club, kid," he said. "You're the youngest by probably thirty years, in with a group of old blokes reliving the glory days."

"I'm not the youngest," I protested, eager to defend the club. "There were three other guys my age who are third generation Reapers, now, and we even have a few new prospects."

Beast nodded, but didn't say anything for a while. I knew that he meant nothing by it, but the guys in the Reapers had looked out for me my entire life, especially when it fell to shit, and I wouldn't hear a bad word spoken about them.

And, as much as I loved everyone in the Specters, when it came down to it, they were criminals. They made a living running and dealing drugs, getting drunk and fuxking up rival gangs. There were even rumours that they'd played a part in taking down some gang lord in the city. Honestly, I wouldn't have been surprised

"You know," he said, finally. "If you ever get sick of hanging out with old guys and organising charity rides, you can always join this crew. We could use a young gun like you."

I grinned, staring down at the bar. Honestly, the thought had crossed my mind, way back when I first got my motorbike licence. Marcus was dead set on me joining Hell's Reapers, like him and Axe and their father, when he was still alive, continuing the tradition, and had immediately hated the idea when I mentioned the Specters.