Bjorn: Teutonic Knights MC (2 page)

“I’m just saying this is going to be trouble, that’s all,” Whiteshirt said as he spun the beer on the table. Their contact on the docks had just left, $250 richer, after informing them the Saracens had lost a load of guns. A
major
load of guns.

“We didn’t have anything to do with it,” Ironside pointed out.

Hafdan Gustaffson, Whiteshirt to his brothers, shook his head. “I
know
we didn’t have anything to do with it, but that doesn’t mean they won’t think we did.”

Bjorn Lothbrook grinned. He appreciated his best friend and VP’s caution, but sometimes Whiteshirt worried
too
much. “You’re worse than an old woman. They know we’re pulling out of guns. Hell, we
handed
them our drug business. If we’re trying to get out, why would we bother stealing their guns?”

“And you don’t worry enough. Maybe they’ll think we did it just to fuck with them.” Ironside was a good man, and a better leader, but he sometimes forgot the leader of the Saracen’s wasn’t as logical and level headed as he was.

The Teutonic Knights and the Saracens were the two major outlaw clubs in Cleveland. The Knights were formed in 1951, the Saracens five years later. The two clubs had fought viciously over territory and the gun and drug trade until the ‘80s when a stalemate was reached. Under Ironside’s grandfather’s rule, the Teutonic Knights had taken over the lakefront and the downtown, from the town of Rocky River south to I-90 in the west to Euclid and Cleveland Heights down to highway 322 in the east. The Saracens controlled the territory south of I-90 to the 480 bypass, from the banks of the Rocky River in the west to Highway 176 in the east.

Since then, the territories hadn’t shifted much and the two clubs had settled into a Cold War mentality. After Ironside’s uncle and father were busted in a drug deal gone bad, Bjorn had taken his place at the head of the table and immediately made aggressive moves out of their illegal activities. Under Ironside’s leadership, the Knights had gotten out of the drug business already, and were working their way out of guns, moving aggressively into bars and strip clubs, taking them over as they came up for sale or, when necessary, opening one from scratch.

They weren’t completely clean. They still ran three escort services and a half-dozen happy ending style massage parlors, but even those were on the docket to be phased out as their upstart porn studio, Black Knights Studios, or BKS as they called it, came online. Before, their income had come from guns, drugs, and whores. Now it came from supplying the hard men of the docks and the tie-wearing pansies of downtown with booze, naked broads, and, for mostly for the tie-wearing set, upscale pussy.

Since they were no longer directly competing with each other, things
had
improved with the Saracens in the last five years, but there was still a lot of bad blood between the clubs, and the standing death warrant if you were caught on the wrong side of I-90 was still in place.

As they moved out of the guns and drugs, the Knights had started turning a blind eye to the transportation of contraband passing through their territory, so long as the goods stayed on I-71 and no patched member of the Saracens crossed the I-90, but that left the Saracens exposed until their goods were in their territory or loaded onto a ship. It was an unspoken agreement that had stood for two years, but it looked like someone got greedy and took advantage of that exposure.

Nothing happened on the docks the Knights didn’t hear about, and they’d just heard that a load of guns coming in from Europe left the docks on schedule but never made it south of I-90 where the Saracens were waiting.

“What do you suggest we do?” Ironside asked. “It’s not like Andrew and I can get together over a beer and sort this out.”

Whiteshirt grimaced. “I’m not suggesting we do anything. All I’m saying is we should be ready in case the Saracens decide to make trouble.”

“Okay. That sounds like a good idea,” Ironside agreed. “What do you suggest we do?”

Whiteshirt began to squirm and Ironside grinned. “That’s what I thought. You’re going to give yourself an ulcer worrying about everything all the time. If you have an actionable suggestion, we’ll move on it, but until we know when, where, or even
if
,
the Saracens are going to come at us, there isn’t a lot we can do.”

“Yeah, okay,” Whiteshirt agreed. Ironside was right, but it worried him they could be sitting on a ticking time bomb and Ironside was acting like it was business as usual.

“Honey, you ready to go?” Ironside called. He’d excused his squeeze while he conducted business, but the business was over now.

The big-titted blonde sauntered over, beer in hand, and slid into the table beside him. “Any time, but can I finish my beer first?”

Ironside nodded. “Sure. I’m in no hurry.” He still had more than half his beer to go, too, and he knew from experience that once Honey Mettle got a couple of beers in her, she got hornier than usual. She’d also been on the rag for the past several days, but she’d informed him on the ride over she’d stopped spotting, and he knew she was always got super horny for a few days after her cycle. The one-two punch of hormones and beer? No, he didn’t mind waiting for her to finish her beer a bit.

They were finishing their beer, Honey slowly stroking Ironside’s cock under the table, when the woman walked in, a small duffle slung over her shoulder. Ironside grinned and nodded toward the door, causing Whiteshirt to turn. He looked the woman over and turned back to Ironside with a smile. The woman was definitely Ironside’s type.

Tall with big tits, she was a big girl, but in all the best ways. Whiteside’s grin widened as Honey glared at the newcomer as she moved toward the bar and settled on a stool. She obviously knew the newcomer was Ironside’s type, too.

Peyton settled on the stool and looked over what was on tap. “Warsteiner Dunkel,” she ordered before she pulled out her phone and dialed. As agreed, Melissa didn’t answer. “I made it!” she said softly. “The Teutonic Knights bar on the Mall. I’ll wait here.”

They’d picked the bar because it was the flagship bar of the Teutonic Knights, named after their club, it was well inside the Knights territory, and it was near the train station. Andrew, or the Saracens, would have to be crazy to try anything here. In a few hours, when Melissa could get away, they would walk the three blocks to the train station, buy their tickets, and be on their way out of the Cleveland and try to start someplace new.

She hung up the phone and dropped it back in her duffle as the keep sat her beer in front of her. She nodded her thanks and tossed a five on the bar before taking a small sip, closing her eyes at the rich smooth taste. She would have to nurse the beer because they needed to save every penny, but it sure beat the swill the Saracens seemed to prefer.

“I think I know her,” Honey said as she stared at the woman.

“Who is she?” Ironside asked.

“I don’t know her name, but I swear, I saw her at a party with a bunch of Saracens.”

Whiteshirt and Ironside watched the woman. The women of the two clubs hated each other as much as the men did, and while the men of the clubs spent their time trying to gut each other, the women had become their respective clubs eyes and ears.

“Are you sure?” Ironside asked. The woman didn’t act like a spy for the Saracens, and if she was, why was she here, in a bar?

“No, not sure. But I’m going to find out.” Honey smiled as she slid out of the booth. This was her chance to prove herself to Ironside. She was letting him fuck her stupid, but she hadn’t yet gotten him to make her his old lady. If she turned up a Saracen spy bitch, and kicked her ass right here in front of him, that would be another feather in her cap and prove to him she was more than just a place for him to stick his cock.

She’d been after Ironside since she joined the Knights as a club girl almost a year ago. She’d finally gotten his attention four months ago when he took her to bed, and she’d made sure he didn’t forget her. She’d worked hard to make sure he didn’t get tired of her by threatening to kick the ass of any woman who showed even a passing interest in him, and fucking him at every opportunity. Not that she minded the last bit, because, my
God
could he fuck.

“What are you doing here?” Honey demanded as she stopped by Peyton.

“Having a beer. What’s it look like I’m doing?” Peyton replied, turning to face the woman, then turning her back on her. “What business is it of yours?”

Honey couldn’t be sure it was the same woman, but how many six foot tall amazons could there be in Cleveland? “You’re out of your territory, aren’t you?”

Peyton felt her blood run cold. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Honey smiled as the other woman stiffened slightly. “Yes you do, you fucking bitch. I saw hanging on a bunch of Saracens at a party. You know what happens when a Saracens comes into Knights territory? We kick their ass.”

“I don’t want any trouble. I’m waiting here for a friend, then we’ll leave.”

Honey grabbed Peyton’s shoulder and turned her to face her. “You’ve got plenty of trouble now.”

Peyton stood. She was a good two inches taller than the other woman, but she didn’t want to fight. She could always circle around the block and wait for Melissa outside. She glanced around the bar, looking for help. It was the middle of the day and the only people in the bar were the barkeep, the bitch in her face, and the two Knights sitting in a booth watching the drama play out. There was no help to be found here.

“I’ll just go,” she said backing toward the door.

Honey closed, getting into her rival’s face. “It’s not that easy, bitch.” She wanted this fight, needed it to impress Ironside. She gave Peyton a hard shove. “You’ll go, all right, after I’ve kicked your ass as a lesson to all the Saracens bitches who come into Knights territory.”

Peyton took another step back, her hands up in front of her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Spies, bitch. You were sent here to spy.” She gave Peyton another hard push.

Peyton shoved her back hard. “I’m no fucking spy, and I’m not a Saracen!” She couldn’t catch a fucking break. A fucking
party?
She’d been to a lot of parties in the last three weeks, along with a bunch of other girls, but the only one where should could have been seen was where she and Melissa were trying to get one of the Saracens to pick them up and take them back to the clubhouse.

Honey looked to Ironside, smiling as he and Whiteshirt watched with interest.

“Should I go break it up?” Whiteshirt asked.

“She started it. Let’s see if she can finish it,” Ironside said as he motioned the bartender back when he started around the end of the bar to break up the brewing fight.

“What if Honey is right and she’s a Saracen?”

“Then after Honey kicks her ass, we’ll dump her back on the other side.”

“You don’t find it suspicious she showed up here just as we were finding out about the lost weapons?”

Ironside shrugged. “How would they know we were meeting?
We
didn’t know until two hours ago.”

***

Honey reached up and grabbed Peyton’s hair and jerked her head down and to the side. “I’m going to fuck you up, bitch,” she snarled, playing to Ironside.

Peyton grimaced in pain. She’d tried to back off, but this bitch was leaving her no other choice. “This is your last chance,” she hissed as she held the hand tangled in her hair.

“You think you want a piece of me?” Honey sneered. “Bring it.”

Peyton grabbed Honey by the hair with one hand, still holding the hand tangled in her hair with the other. Honey gasped as Peyton hauled her head back and grabbed the hand tangled in her own hair to try to relieve the pain. The two women snarled silently as they pressed their bodies together, pushing and shoving, trying to throw their opponent off balance while keeping their hands in their opponent’s hair.

***

Whiteshirt began to slide out of the booth to go break it up, but Ironside put his hand on his friend’s arm to still him. “Let it play,” he said softly. Honey had been running her mouth pretty hard for the last month, and he wanted to see if she had the tits to back it up. She was a pretty good fuck, but regardless of what she thought, she didn’t own him. Right now it was just some hair pulling, pushing, and threats.

***

“Bitch!” Honey snarled. She’d been a club girl one place or another for more than ten years, and she knew how to handle herself, but she was normally bigger and stronger than her opponent. This chick was going to be a handful.

Peyton had enough. She took a half-step back, bending at the waist slightly to open some distance between them, then fired her knee into the crotch of Honey. Honey saw it coming, and twisted, blocking most of it, but grunting in pain as the blow reverberated through her body. As Honey moved to block the blow, she loosened her grip on Peyton’s hair and she was able to jerk her head free. She released her grip on Honey’s hair, took another half step back and fired a jab into her face.

***

Ironside saw Honey’s knees wobble, then she sat down hard. “Go break it up,” he ordered.

Whiteshirt slid out of the booth as Peyton took a step to stand over Honey. “You want me to bring you anything else?” she sneered.

The larger woman didn’t appear to want to go in for the kill, so Whiteshirt only took her by the arm to restrain her. “That’s enough!”

“No!” Honey said, rolling to her feet while wiping at her bloody lip. “That damn sure isn’t enough! I’m going to take that bitch apart!”

Whiteshirt stepped between the two women and pushed Honey back. “Knock it off!”

Honey tried to do an end-around on Whiteshirt to get at Peyton, but he pushed her back again. She couldn’t leave it getting knocked on her ass like that! Not in front of Ironside! She turned to her lover.

“Babe! She got in a lucky shot, that’s all! I can take her! Don’t stop me! Let me finish it!”

Ironside eyes flicked between the two women. The new woman must have a punch like a gorilla, and she stood cool and relaxed, her eyes never leaving Honey. She wasn’t bragging or egging her on, just waiting, her hands still clenched into fists.

“If she wants to finish it, let them,” he ordered.

Whiteshirt looked at him a moment then turned the woman loose and stepped out from between them.

“I guess I’ll have to bring you the full service ass-whipping,” Peyton said as she took a step back and put her hands up in a fighting stance.

The moment the Saracen bitch took a step back and settled into her stance, Ironside knew it probably wasn’t going to go well for Honey, but she wanted it, so he was going to let take her shot.

“Don’t interfere,” Honey said with more bravado than she felt. The bigger woman had hit her harder than any other woman she’d ever faced. She punched like a goddamned man, and she was going to have to get inside and get dirty.

Ironside nodded. “You heard her,” he told Whiteshirt.

Whiteshirt took another step back to get out of their way. Like Ironside, he suspected Honey had bitten off more than she could chew, and now she was going to choke on it.

***

Honey charged in, slamming into Peyton and they went to the floor in a tangle, knocking over chairs and scattering tables. She might not be able to punch like the Saracens’ bitch, but she had a few skills of her own.

Peyton fired an explosive left at Honey as she charged in, but it glanced harmlessly off her head. She wanted to stand off and punch, using her greater reach and skill to her advantage, but as they crashed to the floor she knew it was going to be a down and dirty ground fight, just like every fight she’d ever been in.

Honey had Peyton by the throat, but before she could do anything, her opponent had her under her chin with one hand, grabbed a handful of hair with the other, and was forcing her head back. She cried out in pain as the Peyton pulled her hair, straining with everything she had to prevent the Saracens’ bitch from pulling her off of her and losing her dominate position.

Peyton lunged with her hips, tumbling Honey off her, rolling with her then reared up, breaking her grip on her throat. The woman clawed at her as she drew back to punch her fucking lights out, catching the front of her blouse and pulling her down again and spoiling her punch.

Honey wrapped her arm around the back of Peyton’s neck, taking her into a headlock to hold her head down. So long as she kept her head down, she couldn’t punch.

Peyton snarled in rage as she struggled to get her head up and out of the Knights’ bitch’s tits, pushing off the floor with her hands, then flopping over, dragging that Knights bitch with her. She fired one, two, three, then four rights into the woman’s side, making her grunt and writhe, but the punches were weak and not enough to break the woman’s hold on her neck.

Honey screamed when Peyton grabbed her hair again and pulled her head back. She tried to maintain the hold, but she screamed again as Peyton raked her back with the fingers of her other hand, her thin blouse little protection from Peyton’s claws. She tightened her grip on Peyton then rolled so Peyton could no longer inflict damage on her back or pull her head up.

***

Ironside sat calmly and watched the two women tumble, first one screaming then the other. It appeared to him Honey was getting the worse end of the fight, the Saracen woman throwing punches and trying to break Honeys’ hold, but he had to hand it to Honey, she was hanging in there, taking the punishment her opponent was dealing her.

***

Back on top, Peyton jacked herself up with her legs to give herself some room and began to throw right after right into Honey’s side. They weren’t hard punches, but they accumulated. Honey cried out again then threw Peyton to the side to stop the savage blows. The Saracen bitch had put her on the defense and was wearing her down, but she couldn’t lose this fight, not in front of Ironside. As they scrambled to their feet, she went in fast, her hand low to inflict the maximum damage.

Peyton had just gotten to her feet when the bitch charged in again. She hit her hard, before she could prepare, and drove her back into one of the pool tables. She screamed in pain as Honey bent her backwards over the table with a hand in her face, while clawing at her womanhood, her shorts providing scant protection. She grabbed Honey’s wrists with her hands, twisting the one away from her pussy while jerking the other away from her chin.

Honey strained as Peyton slowly forced her hand away from her pussy. She began to drive in with her legs, using her body to bend Peyton backwards, trying to try to snap her in half over the edge of the table. Peyton grimaced at her then allowed the hand she had intended to tangle in her hair to slip past.

Peyton relaxed, allowing Honey’s grasping hand to slide past her head then used her momentum against her to twist her to the side. She intended to reverse their hold, to put the Honey against the table and try to break
her
fucking back, but as she twisted her to the side, they rolled past the edge of the table and tumbled to the floor.

Honey hit the floor
hard,
Peyton falling on her as she dragged her down with her. In desperation, Honey wrapped her legs around Peyton, holding her close until she could recover from having the breath knocked out of her. Her eyes widened as she saw Peyton draw back a fist and she caught the arm, then jammed her hand under her chin to stiff-arm Peyton and prevent her from throwing the punch.

Peyton tried to free her hand, but she couldn’t, not while Honey was holding her head back. She put her free hand on Honey’s face and, with a snarl, pushed it down and sideways to try to break her leverage.

***

“Jesus Christ, they’re going to kill each other,” Whiteshirt said, starting to slide out of the booth again as the two women froze, their faces twisted in agony as they panting and strained.

“She didn’t want us to interfere,” Ironside said, his eyes never leaving the contest. He’d seen his share of catfights, but this wasn’t the normal pushing, shoving and hair pulling. These two were really giving it to each other, and he admired that neither were backing down, no quarter asked or given, and he wanted to see if Honey could battle her way out of it.

***

Peyton gave up trying to twist her way out of the hold as her strength faded. With the last of her strength, she grabbed the arm under her chin and yanked it away. She fell forward, and Honey immediately took her into another headlock. Peyton levered her ass up and began to drive her right into her Honey’s again, hitting her where she’d already softened her up, gritting her teeth against the pain of Honey’s clasp

Honey screamed as Peyton drove right after right into her side, trying to twist her head off before Peyton could punch her way out of the hold. Peyton’s blows were relentless. She could have taken any one punch, but like the stings of wasps, they multiplied until she couldn’t take it anymore.

The moment her head popped free, Peyton was ready. She threw herself off of the woman and scrambled to her feet. Honey was hurting and was slower to get up. Peyton took two steps forward and helped her up, lifting her by her hair before bending her at the waist and then locking an arm around her neck.

“That’s it!” Ironside said, sliding out of the booth, but the Saracens bitch got in two good punches before he and Whiteside arrived to pull them apart. Honey was still on her feet, but she was bleeding from the lips and nose, and was wobbly as shit.

“Enough!” Whiteshirt snarled as he pushed Peyton away.

Peyton wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, straightened her blouse, then shook her hand, trying to ease the pain from hitting the woman in the face. If her hand hurt, that Knights bitch’s face had to be killing her. “Next time you want me to bring you something, you better be ready to take it! Stupid bitch!”

“I’m going to kill you!” Honey sneered, wiping at her face but only smearing the blood.

“Honey, shut the hell up,” Ironside growled, picking her up and putting her in a chair. “Paul! Put some ice in a towel and bring it over here, along with a wet one.”

When the bartender arrived with the towels, he wiped the blood off Honey’s face with the wet towel then handed her the makeshift ice pack. “Hold this,” he said, rolling the ice-filled towel onto her face.

When the man administering to the woman turned to face her, she swallowed hard. From the look on his face, she was about to get her ass kicked.