Marek knights corruption.., p.1

Marek (Knights Corruption MC #1), page 1

 

Marek (Knights Corruption MC #1)
 



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Marek (Knights Corruption MC #1)


  Marek

  Copyright © 2016 S. Nelson

  Marek/ S.Nelson.—1st edition

  ISBN-13: 978–1530516018

  ISBN-10: 1530516013

  Editing by

  Hot Tree Editing

  Cover Design by

  CT Cover Creations

  Interior Design and Formatting by

  Christine Borgford, Perfectly Publishable

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the publisher’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Marek

  Dedication

  Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Thirty-Three

  Thirty-Four

  Thirty-Five

  Thirty-Six

  Thirty-Seven

  Thirty-Eight

  Thirty-Nine

  Forty

  Forty-One

  Forty-Two

  Forty-Three

  Forty-Four

  Forty-Five

  Epilogue

  Coming Soon

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Other Books by S. Nelson

  This book is dedicated to my husband. Thank you so much for being patient with me while I lock myself in the office, writing for countless hours on end. I love you!

  This book touches on the subjects of rape, violence, and hard situations that may trigger bad memories for those who have been in similar situations.

  Not suitable for anyone under 18.

  Marek

  Too many voices shouted demands, hands shoving me roughly forward until I was no longer standing on my own two feet. “Get on the ground!” was the one I heard the most. My knees hit hard off the gravel, my stomach kissing earth while my hands were jerked behind my back before I could utter a single word of protest. People in uniforms clambering to throw me and all my brothers down like we’d done something wrong. Don’t make any mistake, we certainly weren’t boy scouts, but the sudden invasion was most definitely unwarranted.

  The DEA agent towering over me was none other than Sam Koritz, the most crooked motherfucker I knew, and that was saying a lot since I was the furthest from a straight arrow myself. He was forever trying to nail my club, even though it was because of us that his pockets were fattened to not only look the other way, but to forget we even existed.

  Running my club, the Knights Corruption, was profitable but extremely dangerous. We were accountable for two-thirds of the cocaine supply smuggled into central California. The ports we utilized were run by us and people we paid handsomely to keep the profit high and the risk low. But every now and then, someone became greedy—hence Koritz busting in like he owned the joint.

  Fuck him if he thought he was gonna get away with this shit. I’d put one of my boys on him just as soon as we were able to. Maybe pay a visit to his house, have a little chat, remind him who paid for his kid’s private school.

  While I sucked the dirt into my lungs, my arms aching from the tightly coiled position, I dreamed up ways of paying back exactly who I knew was responsible—besides Koritz, of course.

  The Savage fucking Reapers.

  Koritz was most likely in bed with them as well, and whoever paid more won out every time. I had no doubt Henry ‘Psych’ Brooks, the president of the Savage Reapers, had put the DEA agent up to it. And why not? Killing two birds with one stone. If they found what they were looking for—drugs, guns and money—they’d profit. And if not, they’d been able to send a message by allowing us to witness Koritz’s betrayal.

  The continual war between our two clubs was coming to a head very soon. We’d already had casualties, and it would be over my dead body if any more of us were gonna meet the Devil any time soon.

  “Where the hell is it, Marek?” Koritz shouted, stomping his boot down on top of my neck. I’m gonna kill this sonofabitch as soon as I get the chance.

  Trying my best not to give him the reaction he wanted, I spit the soil from my mouth and laughed. As soon as the sound burst forth, he kicked me in the ribs before I could change positions to protect myself. I should have known it was coming, but I was too preoccupied with pissing the bastard off.

  A rush of air flew from my lips, a low groan escaping before I could stop it. “Touch my prez one more fuckin’ time, and you’ll be meetin’ your maker real soon,” my VP, Stone, yelled. We faced each other on the ground, and as soon as his eyes met mine, I shot him a warning look for him to shut his mouth and lock it up. His reddened face told me he was seconds away from exploding.

  Luckily, he did as I’d silently cautioned.

  Loyalty.

  Plain and simple.

  His mouth and hot-ass temper were gonna land us in more trouble if he kept going. While I appreciated his undying allegiance to me and to the club, we needed to let this all play out.

  Koritz didn’t even pay Stone’s threat any attention, keeping his focus on me the entire time instead. I saw his foot leave the ground, cock back then swing forward. I braced myself that time, but it didn’t do any good—the fucker came wearing shit-kickers, and my ribs certainly felt the brunt of it. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d broken a couple in his attempt to make me talk. But that’s okay, because when the opportunity presented itself to pay him back, I’d make sure to return the favor.

  “I’m not gonna ask you again, Prez,” he gritted, pacing back and forth, waiting for me to divulge the location of what they’d come here looking for—the product. But if he thought he would find it on our own goddamn compound, he was even stupider than I thought. We never kept that shit on site. The worst thing they would come across would be a few illegal handguns. That’s it.

  Lifting my head off the ground, I craned my neck to look up at him. Words fell from my lips, but he couldn’t hear them. Which was done half on purpose, because I wanted him to squat down to my level. The other part was because I was having a hard time breathing. Finally, he did exactly what I wanted him to, leaning down so he could hear me.

  “What was that, you piece of shit?” he yelled.

  “Nothing,” I replied, a drop of blood spraying from my mouth and hitting the dirt.

  “What?” He was losing whatever patience he had left, and if I wasn’t careful my ass was gonna really be hurtin’ come morning.

  He knew enough to make sure I was tied up and on the ground before he attacked me, otherwise, he’d have
an up–close-and-personal relationship with my fists. He was no match for me, and the coward knew it. The man was in his late forties and ate too much garbage, the pot belly hanging over his belt proof of his overindulgences. His receding hairline was noticeable even though he tried to hide it with a laughable comb-over.

  I was everything he wasn’t and he knew it, so he exerted his authority, or whatever authority he thought he had. Once I found my opportunity, we’d see who the big man was then.

  “Nothing,” I said louder. “There’s nothing here, so you assholes are wasting my precious tax dollars,” I goaded.

  “Tax dollars? As far as I’m aware, criminals don’t pay taxes, or did that change? Oh, wait, I forgot all about the little strip club the Knights own,” he chided. “Maybe that’ll be our next stop. Maybe it accidently gets torched,” he threatened, nodding as if he was truly pondering it.

  I’d been venturing out to legal businesses, my main goal to turn my club legit. Simply put, the way we were doing things was way too dangerous, and I was tired of it all. I was only twenty-eight years old, but most days I felt twice my age. Physically, I was as fit as could be, but mentally, I was drained. Stressed the fuck out. Sick of the bloodshed. I’d seen more in my short life than most men saw in their entire existence, and enough was enough. But there were debts which had to be repaid and vengeance that needed to be carried out before I called it legit for good. Once we went straight, we weren’t gonna teeter back and forth between the two worlds, so we had to be sure everything was taken care of first.

  Realizing Koritz wasn’t gonna get anything out of us, he straightened up and yelled to his men, “Search it! Tear it apart if you have to. We have all night,” he promised, his foot coming dangerously close to my face.

  “Don’t you need a warrant, asshole?” Ryder, my Sergeant-at-Arms, yelled, an outburst which earned him a swift blow to the stomach. He was fortunate—or unfortunate, depending on how one looked at it—to not be lying down. He was on his knees with his fingers interlocked and resting on the top of his head, his hands bound while one of the agents held him in place so he couldn’t move. Cuffed or not, my men would run off at the mouth without a second’s hesitation.

  “Nope,” Koritz’s lapdog said, pulling back and sucker punching Ryder, that time in the face.

  All these fuckers are goin’ down.

  After two very long hours, they finally deemed the compound all clear, only finding a few dime bags of weed. Nothing they were gonna waste their time over. They kept us locked in the same positions, my arms screaming in pain along with my possibly broken ribs. Koritz stalked my way, beyond pissed that he wasn’t able to pin anything on me. For as crooked as he was, he wasn’t stupid enough to plant evidence, though, probably out of fear of retaliation. Little did he know I was already plotting my revenge.

  All in due time.

  Reaching down, he took hold of my upper arm and pulled, but he was so weak he needed another man to help lift me. Once on my feet, I staggered a few steps, trying to find my footing all while doing my best to breathe. I masked the pain by clenching my teeth and trying to appear as pissed off as possible—which wasn’t hard to do, given everything that’d happened.

  “You lucked out this time, Marek,” Koritz said, swiftly patting my side. The pain radiated through my entire body, and I held the air in my lungs, waiting to see what he was gonna do next. With my hands still cuffed behind my back, I knew I wasn’t capable of doing shit until he released me. Roughly grabbing my wrists, he jerked them back, the muscles of my arms hollering in protest. “If you make a move on me or any of my men, I’ll shoot you where you stand. You understand?” His putrid breath hit the side of my face, and I almost threw up.

  When I nodded quickly, he withdrew the key to the restraints and popped them open. Normally, I would rub my wrists because of the tight pressure of the cuffs, but I simply flexed my fists at my sides, reminding myself that he would make good on his promise of killing me if I dared to strike back.

  As soon as all my men were released, and all of the DEA agents left our compound, I vowed then and there to never be put into that situation ever again.

  Everyone would feel the wrath of the Knights Corruption MC before we turned to the other side.

  Sully

  Turning his head in my direction, the man leading me down a dark, narrow hallway practically spit at me in anger. “If you don’t hurry up, Sully, you’re gonna regret being so goddamn slow.” I knew that tone. I was petrified of that tone. But I was used to it and unfortunately, I was used to him and the way he treated me.

  My tired legs tried to hurry, but I was extremely sluggish. Vex had woken me from a dead sleep, forced me to pleasure him, then tossed me out of bed. Throwing some dark-colored clothes at me, he ordered me to dress, hauled me from the compound and shoved me in the passenger side of a beat-up gray truck.

  I didn’t even need to ask where we were going. I already knew. Every now and again, he would drag me with him to be his lookout while he broke into people’s homes and stole their drugs—cocaine, to be specific. He would snort as much of the nose candy as he could, then sell the rest to bring in a profit for our club, the Savage Reapers. Having a talent for bypassing even the most high-tech security systems, it was a shame he didn’t put his talents to better use, but when it came right down to it, Vex Montale was a low-level criminal, never aspiring to be anything more than he was.

  I took two more steps down the darkened space and ran smack-dab right into his back. He’d suddenly stopped, but I knew enough to keep my mouth shut instead of asking why. I learned long ago to know my place when it came to Vex, only speaking if he asked me a question. I was only fourteen years old when he claimed me from my father, Vex being all of eighteen himself. That was six years ago. At first, I was attracted to him, his sandy-brown hair and piercing green eyes were certainly head-turning. His square jaw and perfectly proportionate nose only added to his good looks, even with the slight bump in the middle. He’d broken it during one of the many fights he’d incited, never bothering to have it set properly. His lean, muscular build had enticed my awakening young hormones, but that quickly changed the first time his fist connected with my face. No matter how good-looking he was on the outside, the ugliness inside him had pushed through and repulsed me from then on.

  I wasn’t stupid enough to believe he was faithful to me either, witnessing him having sex with other girls on a few occasions. But did he care when he’d been caught? No. The times I’d accidentally walked in on him rutting like some kind of animal, he leered at me and continued on until he roared out his disgusting release.

  Vex snatched my arm and pulled me closer, snarling at me like some sort of rabid dog. Hell, even a sick dog was nicer than he was, especially when he’d been snorting that shit up his nose, which happened more and more lately. “His room is the last one on the right. We have to get in and grab what we can,” he sniffed, pinching his nose between his thumb and forefinger before starting to move again. “Don’t fuck this up. Do you hear me?” he asked, squeezing my arm tight.

  “Yes,” I whimpered. Even though he’d asked me a direct question—my cue to speak—he didn’t like it when I talked too much.

  He was the second dangerous man I knew, my father trumping him and taking the title for the worst human being alive. At least Vex didn’t keep me locked in a closet for days without food or water when I’d done or said something he didn’t like. Don’t get me wrong, I lived in Hell every single day, praying for a quick death each and every time he struck, raped and choked me unconscious. But because I was still breathing air into my lungs, my destiny obviously hadn’t been fulfilled yet.

  When we reached the room we were supposed to enter, he stilled on the threshold, peering inside and listening for anything that would tell him we weren’t alone. Although the information he’d received from one of the other brothers told him the owner was out for the night—leaving his place unattended for the likes of us—he’d been given erroneous tips
before.

  I detested being dragged into situations I wanted nothing to do with. But I had no choice, just like I had no choice in anything that happened in my life.

  It was better to go along than resist.

  I had the scars to prove it.

  Moving slower than I thought was possible while he was coked out of his mind, he shoved me forward into the dark bedroom. “Look in the closet.” He pinched his nose again, making a sound with his throat before mumbling to himself, “He told me it was here.”

  Without answering, I did as I was told and headed for the closet in the far corner of the large room. The only light I had was from a small keychain flashlight. Anything bigger would pull too much attention—at least, that’s what Vex told me.

  While I searched for the kilos of cocaine that were supposed to have been hidden somewhere in the bedroom, Vex rummaged through drawers, opening and closing them before moving on to other areas of the expansive room.

  Whoever lived here certainly had money. Not only was the house huge, but the furnishings looked expensive. The small light of my keychain had allowed me to see the king-sized bed, which took up the middle of the space, with four carved pillars the focal point. Two matching dressers and nightstands completed the bedroom set, the wood a rich mahogany color I itched to run my fingers over.

  Living at the clubhouse, which was unheard of for a female, we only had old, ratty furniture. Most of it was rigged somehow, and the pieces that weren’t would splinter apart with the slightest force. I wasn’t a materialistic person, not by any stretch of the imagination, but just once I would like to own something new.

  “Did you find anything yet?” he gritted, his warm breath hitting the side of my face while he crowded my personal area inside the closet. Before I could answer, he shoved me back into the bedroom and rooted through the space himself, cursing me every time he came up short, like it was my fault he couldn’t find what he was looking for.

  My head hung low, the tiny light slowly faded in and out while I waited for him to finish his search. Uneasiness ate me up the longer we invaded the stranger’s house, the hairs on the back of my neck sticking up with each tick of the clock. With every second that passed, we were that much closer to getting caught. And if were spotted, it was somehow going to be my fault, and I would pay dearly because of it. As it stood, Vex was probably going to punish me anyway, if for nothing other than the frustration that he couldn’t find more product to feed his nasty habit. Either way, my night was going to be less than ideal. But what else was new?

 
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