Cullen (Steel Cobras MC #2)

By: Evie Monroe

Chapter One


Just what I liked. Sitting around a table across from the rest of the club, with our thumbs up our asses.

That wasn’t how I usually operated my Steel Cobras. We were fierce. Made big plays with high risks. Kicked ass and took names.

But we sat there now, giving each other stupid looks, because no one wanted to admit it. We didn’t know what our rival motorcycle club, Hell’s Fury, was up to.

They’d been quiet for the past few weeks, ever since we offed Blaze, their leader, and tore them new assholes. They’d run for the hills, crying for their mamas.

But their silence was suspicious.

“I tell you, they’re planning something,” Phoenix, the VP of our club, and my best friend, said. “We need to act. Crush them. This won’t be over ‘til they’re all dead.”

Easy for him to say. He’d wanted to destroy our rival club ever since they’d snapped up his girl, Olivia, to use for bait. They nearly killed her. For the last two weeks, he’d been preaching No Mercy when it came to Hell’s Fury.

His bloodthirst was beginning to spread. Now Jet, Phoenix’s little brother, and Drake, both officers in the Cobras, were starting to echo those sentiments.

Which meant I, as President of the Cobras, needed to shut this shit down before it got worse.

I held out my hands as the men raged around one another, jumping off their seats, at each other’s throats. I didn’t raise my voice. I found that I didn’t need to. “Men. Sit the fuck down.”

Phoenix—also known as Nix—was as loyal a motherfucker as there could be, always listening, respecting the club. Once he sat his ass down, the rest of the men fell in like dominos.

I pulled up off of the chair I was backwards-straddling and took a drag of my cigarette. I moved to the front of the room in the warehouse we’d recently moved into as our clubhouse. For the past two years, since I’d become president, we’d been having the meetings at my house. That all ended about a month ago, when Hell’s Fury decided to pay us a little unfriendly visit.

A month later, and I was still pulling bullets out of my fucking hot tub.

The warehouse was good. Quiet. On the end of the pier in Aveline Bay. We could park our bikes out there, make all the noise we wanted, and not have to worry about the Fury sneaking up on us.

“Guys,” I said, pacing in front of them. “Just because they’re quiet doesn’t mean they’re not planning something. And we can’t just go in there, guns blazing. They showed us they had the numbers. Even if they’ve lost half their guys, they’re still bigger than us.”

Drake shook his head. “They’re planning something. But we need to strike while their numbers are down and put an end to them for good.”

Hart looked up from his computer. “I haven’t seen any chatter at all online. Not a single one. But I don’t want to dare think they’re done.”

“Hell, no, they’re not done,” Zain said. “They’re biding their time. You can bet on that.”

I looked at Zain, who was holding his side, having just recovered from a serious gunshot wound. Zain was one of the newer members of the club, but a man I could trust. He had the most intelligence on Hell’s Fury, because he’d almost been a part of them. That was, until Blaze fucked him over by stealing his girl. After that, he came to me. Though I’d kept his dealings with the Fury secret from the other Cobras, I trusted his point of view on them.

“Right. But it doesn’t mean we got to go out and fight without knowing what we’re up against.”

“Yeah, it does,” Nix said, not looking up from the text he was thumbing in. I’d bet a thousand bucks he was texting his girl Olivia. “We get ‘em now, while they’re weak. We made the mistake last time of not stamping them out, and they grew. We need to take them out.”

“I’m not running out there blind,” I said. “We need to know what we’re dealing with. Come on, assholes. Let’s vote.”

They all gathered in the circle.

I said, “All in favor of retaliation right now. Show of hands.”

Nix, Jet and Drake all raised their hands.

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