Page 12 of Hades

Lessons learned.

No one would ever find Xavier.

Maybe they would, he didn’t care.

Was that wrong? Was that evil?

He’d stopped an evil man in his evil tracks, he should be getting a damn medal or a corndog for fucking free.

Crossing a field, he jumped over a wall, walked down a dark street, felt like he owned them. He could wait another year and then his life would really begin.

He loved his plans. Kyle grinned up at the moon.

And let Satan stand at his right hand.

CHAPTER FOUR

“Prospect…”

Thank Christ. He had his foot in the MC door.

It wasn’t much, but Kyle, over the last year had seen to it that whenever he was around one of those Renegade Souls members they saw what kind of character he was, that is whatever they wanted him to be. They wanted a polite kid? He was fucking polite like he was in church, allyes, sir, thank you, sir, whatever you want, sir.He said thank you and please so often he swore his shithead father would be glaring up from Hell and shaking his bible.

Hangaround. That’s what they called those who were allowed in the door but still weren’t taken on as a prospect. That title went to those who the club members thought had potential. He still had to make it that far, to get to that golden year of prospecting and then he would patch into the club as a full brother. He couldn’t wait.

Impatience stung through his blood and he was so close to telling everyone to go screw themselves, but he could wait. He could wait a while longer.

Potential. He’d heard that so many times. What potential were they looking for? Just tell him and Kyle would give it. He tried to act like the others, but the goodie-goodie act got old quick until he wanted to vomit blood out of his eye sockets. Kissing ass wasn’t his deal.

He would rather be himself, at least it seemed far as he could tell he was doing as he was told, even the horrendous jobs of scrubbing out the stinking toilets and playing bitch-maid fetching and carrying for one lazy bastard after another, they seemed pleased with his work.

One biker had even given him a fifty-dollar tip for delivering a package a few nights ago out of the blue. Kyle got all over that with his chest stinging with pride.

He’d stolen a look inside and saw it was a whole brick of weed. Excitement made him chuckle, not just because he was holding thousands, but it meant they trusted him, right? Temptation swirled in his belly for a second, to steal a corner of it, surely, they wouldn’t know. Instead he’d closed it back up and followed orders by carting it across town, dropped it off to a broken-down cul-de-sac house and brought another envelope back.

Only one of the patched in members didn’t seem to like Kyle.

They called him Mad-Dog. A man in his forties, a thick Texas accent and shrewd eyes, he’d yet to talk to Kyle or even issue him with a job to do, but his eyes watched him. Kyle shrugged, as long as he toed the line he was gonna be fine, he reckoned.

It took nine long crummy months of being a hangaround, coming to the club every single day, rain, hail and shine, no matter, even when he was sick last fall with the flu he dragged himself out of his pit and got there before anyone else, doing the shitty jobs even the prospects didn’t want to do, Kyle did it all and didn’t complain, not once, not even when one of those asshole’s had him waist deep in the sceptic tank unblocking shit,actual shit, he’d puked for an hour afterward.

Nine months of that and more and then Rex called him into his office, stared at him with those mean old-man eyes of his, a thin cigar dangling from his mouth, plumes of smoke filling the room, Kyle’s lungs fighting to take in something clean, he absolutely refused to look weak by coughing. He stood, steel-rod straight spine and waited to be addressed, his skin crawling with apprehension, expecting the worst.

Fucking say it, dude.

His mind frantic with what he’d do if they rejected him.

“Looks like you got balls, kid. No one thought a pretty-boy like you would stick it out, two weeks tops, gotta say you shovelled that shit.” He barked a laugh. “Fuck, that was something dumb, kid, but you see, my boys like that, means you got the stuff.”

Hope rose in Kyle’s chest, he felt it pound hard.

They were going to take him.

He knew it.

He felt it.

Don’t fucking smile, not yet.This could all still go belly up and he would have wasted nine months. Nine months of listening to his mom beg for her drugs, complaining about every little thing under the sun, bitch about what he’d done and hadn’t done. He needed out of that house.

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