Page 23 of Hades

“I have eyes, you’re off in fairyland right now. I give only once chance, dickhead. You want to be at my side you clean up or.” He didn’t need to finish that sentence. He needed men he could rely on to do things no ordinary, upstanding man could face doing, not be so preoccupied with shoving shit up his nose he let his obligations slide.

He dug fingers into T-bone’s throat, thought for a second about just ripping it out, then dropped him like a stone.

Dickheads were dime a dozen, for the most part, Kyle tolerated a few people, caring for none, giving a shit about less than that, but he had to rely on others sometimes and he did it because he was just one man, he couldn’t be everywhere, couldn’t do everything himself, but it was things like this, watching the man at his side with his jittery fingers and wild, blown pupils, that just pissed him off.

“I will. I will, boss. It was a mistake, yeah.”

Yeah, it was a mistake. One he wouldn’t tolerate T-bone to make again. He’d seen enough of the building, he walked out with the man scurrying behind him, and he nodded to the real estate guy waiting outside, telling him he’d be in touch.

Two days later he signed for that building making it final and legitimate. It was the one good thing he’d done in his life that Kyle felt proud about. With enough ready cash to buy it outright who could have said that about the whore’s son a few years ago? It only fueled his greed, his want for more power and over time that power morphed into an obsession. To best everyone who ever once trampled on Kyle and treated him like dirt beneath their shoe.

Over time he got so much payback his literal soul would never be clean ever again.

He supposed it was then he turned into the monster people alleged about. Maybe. Maybe so. He didn’t care much about anything other than surpassing everyone, being the bigger dog, the more ferocious fucking beast.

It was another year to finally put his long design into place. A year to recruit and to cajole and to manipulate bad men into joining his ranks and when he had a select few, they then told people about the new MC in town. And they joined, curious about a club that would take them in no questions asked, only that they pledge to be loyal to the boss.

That’s all he asked of them. There was no fucking initiation. No testing tasks, no probationary period to see if they were good enough. If these simple men were willing to go above and beyond on his word, then they were patched in with acceptance.

The dregs of society, the low down dirty villainous assholes who didn’t own a scruple between them let alone would think of the law or ramifications of their illegal activities.

He took men straight out of prison.

He drafted men who were not upstanding citizens by anyone’s standards. The seedier the better, because as Kyle knew, men with no moral backbone would do just about anything for money with a bastard leading the charge.

“We are fifty strong, boss.” T-bone told him that night over scotch and weed. Kyle toked slowly and puffed rings up into the air. His men, his fucking crew he supposed now, had worked for weeks making the warehouse into something more than a dump. It housed furniture, and rooms for specific purposes, the kitchen was still in the works, but soon that too would be up and running. The first to be put together was Kyle’s room, on the door a plaque that readTHE PREZ. Fuck if he didn’t love that. He walked by that room many times to stare at the adornment and feel a thump of pride in his torso.

Achievement. He’d done this.

He’d done this all by himself with no one telling him what to do.

While Kyle was busy building his own empire, he’d kept eyes on those Renegade Souls and wasn’t it just a surprise a long month brought a war amongst themselves where Kyle lurked nearby and watched them destroy each other until finally the day Rider Marinos commandeered the gavel away from Rex. That was a surprise, who would have thought the dick-brain would have wielded that kind of sneaky power play in him.

Maybe if he’d had one ounce of respect for his former fellow prospect Kyle would have sent him congratulations and admiration for what he’d achieved, it was no easy feat to usurp a leader, as it stood he couldn’t stand Rider any more than he could Rex. He no longer needed their acceptance, not now he was a boss in his own right.

“We need more men.” He replied absently. Being in charge brought its own troubles and if he were to be in a stable position to cause as much Hell for theSoulshe wanted a strong line at his back. Clusters of angst clutched his belly, calculating how many more he’d require. Hundreds, if it were possible. There was no amount of bad men around. It was just a case of finding them and enticing them to the MC way of life.

He wanted his club to be strong, powerful, a force to be reckoned with.

“Head on over to the jail, see what shit they’re tossing out of their doors. And call Jensen about those bikes, tell him the deal we struck still stands, only this time I want ten more hogs.” His men needed rides. Naturally, they didn’t come free, nah, Kyle was no fucking philanthropist, nor was he their daddy to hand over expensive gifts, he made sure, one way or another, his men paid in full for the motorcycles he provided, and it was a onetime only deal, after they were responsible for providing their own vehicles.

“Will do, boss. And that guy called for you again.”

Kyle stopped toking on his spliff, discarded it in an ash tray, lungs full of smoke, the calming affect did nothing to shroud his interest, his eyes narrowed. “When?”

“An hour ago, when you were on the phone with Ken.” Ken his dope supplier.

“What did he say?”

“Same as before. He’d heard you were setting up your own club, wanted to talk.”

Kyle smirked and ran a hand through his hair. He popped up from his chair, rounded the desk and grabbed his keys. Pleased as punch.

“You gonna call him back?”

“Nah. I got nothing to say to Rex Marinos. The loser had his chance with me before he kicked me out of his prized club. Look where he is now, excommunicated and scurrying around looking for scraps.” How the mighty had fallen. The old bastard could die in the street outside ofDenny’sand Kyle would step over him to get to the pancakes. At one time he would have done anything for that man, he’d killed for him without hesitation, completed jobs no one else had wanted to do and the thanks he’d received in return was to be shown the door. Fuck that. Rex Marinos was dead to him.

With steroids in his blood and weed in his lungs Kyle went to work out. Day by day he beefed up until one day he didn’t recognize himself. It was perfect. Not only did he feel like a new man hewasa new man.

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