Page 2 of Enforce This

“So, you’re ditching your stepmother’s funeral to go to class?”

“Stepmother? She was damn near the same age as my brother. I met her twice. The day you introduced me to her and the day I was forced to smile at your biker-infested wedding. So, yes… I’ll be sitting in Med Surg class. I intend to graduate and begin my nursing career after this semester. I refuse to risk my future for a day of pretend mourning over my father’s trophy wife. You know, the woman who lost her life because of your drug dealing… You’ll forgive me, I’m sure.”

“You’re my little girl, Oni. There is nothing I could ever hold against you. Not in this life, or the next…”

I didn’t have to try very hard to deliver a heavy, bored sigh, “I’d love to have a father-daughter chat and spend my morning venturing into emotional pretenses, but as I’ve said…”

“Enjoy your class, baby girl. I love you.” He hung up in my ear, like he always did.

My mother says he did that because he was afraid that I wouldn’t say it back, but ever since I was a child, I’ve wondered if it was because he didn’t care. I sighed and looked down at the phone.

05:40

“Shit.”

I grabbed the eyeliner and tried to quickly slick some on, but my lashes were wet with tears that I was too proud to spill over a biker, making the mission much more difficult than it should have been. I looked like shit, and I didn’t have time to correct it or straighten my hair.

With a defeated growl, I grabbed my keys and rushed off to Med Surg class.

into them on my way to the exit.

Chapter Two

Eric

The compound was packed and so was the parking lot. The usual line of bikes out front was accompanied by grocery getters that belonged to various old ladies and those who intended to follow the Steel Disciples in a procession to the cemetery that lay on the edge of town.

The compound had served as the headquarters for the Steel Disciples ever since Mark built up enough money to require laundering. The building used to be a car dealership. The entire front of the place was glass. Mark had it set up so we could see out, but nobody could see in. A few dozen people lingered about the room. All of us were waiting for Mark to come out of his office.

He’d gone in there to call his daughter hours ago. We could see the outline of his tall chair and his head through the open blinds on the door, but his back was to us, and nobody was brave enough to go inside and rush him.

“How long do you think he’s going to sit in there and contemplate their next move?” My brother Anthony grunted to his best friend, Makaveli.

Mak was Mark’s son. They were exact opposites. Where Mark plotted, planned, and stressed over every delicate detail, Mak lived up to his name. He often encouraged his father to lead with an iron fist.

“We should have just sent a group of enforcers up to Chicago. This is bullshit,” Mak grumbled, under his breath. “I can’t believe we’re just sitting around waiting to see what these assholes are going to do.”

He was surveying the room, staring down anyone who dared to make eye contact. He wasn’t just the President’s biker brat; he was the Vice President of our one percenter club, and he had the patch for a reason.

Mark was good at what he did, but when he couldn’t get reasonable results, he wasn’t above sending his personal Pitbull in to force hands. Mak was proud to be that Pitbull. He was raised in the lifestyle, after his mother, Janice, divorced Mark and fled with his sister.

“Do we really want to antagonize a situation with the Valentino Crime Family?” I groaned, feeling like the only one with patience and a brain.

Maybe it was because they’d never served, or maybe it was because they’d been swallowed by the club at such an early age, but the pair were notorious for reacting before they thought things through. Anthony and Mak were two peas in a pod. If it were up to them, we’d be up to our necks in street beefs.

“Nobody is going to war with the Italians.” Big Vick scoffed, leaning against the other side of the bar. “That shit ain’t good for business. It ain’t good for anybody. You hear me?”

He looked between them until Mak and Anthony were both rolling their eyes and cursing under their breath.

“Speak up, girls, I didn’t hear ya?” Big Vick goaded.

He was the Sergeant at Arms, and he didn’t back down from anybody. Big Vick wasn’t afraid to call Mak on his shit, and he’d issued more ass kickings to Anthony than any of us cared to count. Anyone else would have been promptly told off, but not Vick. One little question from him and my brother was suddenly concentrating on his beer like it had the answer to life, staring into the neck of his bottle and swirling it absently in his hand.

“Listen, if you start smacking your tongue and telling us that damn thing has hints of cinnamon and rhubarb, I’m gonna tell Old George to cut you off.” I grinned, unable to help myself.

“I’ll fuck you and Old George up,” Anthony quipped, hopping off his stool.

Vick and Mak laughed, until the door to the office sprang open and Mark slowly made his way out. The noise in the room instantly dropped to a dull whisper and all eyes were on our fearless president.