Devil's Hitmen MC Pt. 02

Hey Peoples,

You really gotta read part 1. This will make no sense if you don't read the one before.

RSP

--

Chapter One

Kat smiled at Solomon, looking into his piercing blue eyes as the cry came out from inside the group. Blood slid down from Solomon's forehead, dripping onto his navy shirt, but he never stopped looking at Kat.

"You got spared, Parker," Kat holstered her gun and turned to the voice which had issued the cry.

Billy, the new hire from the bar, was pushed towards Kat. Watching as Billy stumbled and shook, Kat didn't feel an ounce of pity for the kid. He'd had plenty of time to come to Solomon's rescue and say that Solomon didn't kill the old president, but the kid had waited until the last possible moment.

It was just lucky for the both of them that Kat was a fantastic shot and she'd flicked her wrist at the same moment the gun had fired, grazing Solomon's forehead.

"You got some nerve, kid," a member sneered as Billy looked Kat in the eyes.

Kat stared into his brown eyes, wondering why he, of all people, had stepped forward and held off Solomon's execution. It wasn't that Kat wasn't grateful to the kid, she was.

Taking a life was something she'd never thought she'd have to do, but being the president of the Devil's Hitmen meant that sometimes she had to bloody her hands a bit for the good of the club. She'd seen Jamison do it, and Kat knew if she wanted to fill his shoes, she'd have to do it too. So she'd put aside her own feelings about Solomon Parker, put aside the budding emotions and concerns she had over the ruggedly handsome biker, and done her duty.

"What is it Billy?" Kat turned towards the kid and gave him her undivided attention.

"Don't say a fucking word, Billy," Solomon growled from his place on the forest floor and was met by a swift kick in the side.

Kat turned to the member who kicked him--the same member who'd kicked him before. Voice deadly calm, Kat stared at the young Latino man. "Do it again, Ryan, and you're going to lose something."

Ryan took a step back and away from Solomon. Kat smiled internally, knowing what she'd just wielded, authority. It was yet another sign of her place in the club, her position. She had it, no one wanted it, so she wielded it any way she wanted.

"Answer my question, Billy, or I put one right between his eyes." Kat warned as she touched her gun meaningfully.

"He didn't do it," Billy whispered, his hands shaking so badly it hurt Kat's eyes to watch.

Peering closer to the kid who looked like he was barely out of high school and far too pure to be working at a biker bar, Kat took her time and examined him. There was something about the kid that didn't sit right with her, something about the kid that gave her pause.

Kat watched Billy's chest expand as he sucked in a breath, noting the shaking hand he used to push back his black hair as he exhaled. "I did it. I killed Jamison."

***

The clearing grew deadly silent, as every member turned and looked at the young bartender. Billy didn't flinch away from everyone's gaze or take a step back, he stood his ground and stared at Kat defiantly.

"You," Kat drew out the word as she crossed her arms and cocked her hip in disbelief. "Killed Jamison St.John?"

Kat looked the kid up and down, trying to see the murderer underneath the scrawny arms, legs, and innocent eyes. The kid didn't have the mark of a killer, didn't give off any strange vibe. In fact, the only vibe Kat got from him was a protective one.

Billy nodded his head vigorously as his eyes darted to a still kneeling Solomon Parker. "Yes, I--"

"Shut your mouth!" Solomon barked angrily at the kid, surprising everyone. Kat turned her head to look at the dark haired rider, taking careful note of his features. The man looked pissed, like he was about to clean up a child's mess.

Turning his head to Kat, Solomon growled; "He didn't do anything. The idiot's just trying to protect me."

Kat looked between the two men carefully, and slowly realization dawned on her. They both had rain-water eyes and midnight black hair, but whereas Solomon was ripped and corded with muscle Billy was scrawny with youth. She didn't know why she hadn't seen it before, but under the bright light of the moon, the similarities couldn't be missed.

A gasp rang out among the club members as Kat as the words clearly and loudly. "You're Solomon's brother."

Goodness, things, are getting confusing. Kat thought as she rubbed her head. The Devil's Hitmen began to murmur and whisper, conspiracy theories flying across the clearing. It was hard to know what to believe with a relative that no one knew thrown into the mix. But on top of everything, it was late, emotions were running high, and Kat didn't want to make a mistake she would regret the rest of her life. She'd been about a millisecond away from doing that tonight as it was.

Taking her hand away from her eyes, Kat looked out at the sea of bikers in small groups. Kat could see the dissension in the group and knew that it needed to stop. The Devil's Hitmen needed to stay together and stay strong, and Kat needed to remind them of that.

"Everybody be quiet!" Kat shouted over the voices, pitching her voice high so she could be heard.

Heads whipped in her direction with lips curled in anger and distaste. "I suggest all of you go home. It's late, emotions are high, and no one wants to do anything they might regret in the morning."

Mindy broke from her small group and walked towards her, arms spread wide in anger. "Solomon did it, Kat! The monster killed my husband! Now put him--"

Kat's voice was deadly low, her eyes so hard that they stopped Mindy's tirade immediately. "I suggest you go home."

There were a few more tense moments before members finally began to get on their bikes and leave the grove. Kat turned to the men surrounding Solomon and called them each out by name. "Joseph, Dominic, and John stay."

Once the other bikers were gone, Kat turned to the few men still left. "Dominic takes Billy. John takes Solomon. Joseph you're riding in front and I got the back." The orders were issued with speed and certainty. Not a single man protested as they did what she ordered, nor did a single one question her authority. It was at that moment Kat realized she hadn't needed to kill Solomon to become a leader, she just needed to overcome a challenge. She'd done it, and now she knew she was the president.

Climbing on her sleek and shiny crimson biker, Kat nodded to the men as she tugged on her matching red helmet. "Let's head to the bar."

***

It was a little past two in the morning, and the bar was all but dead. No patrons turned their way as Kat and her men pulled Solomon and Billy into the back room and locked the door. It was a biker bar, the men had seen plenty worse.

Kat nodded to the round table and chairs in the middle of the room. "Put 'em in the chairs."

The back room of the bar was cramped, smelly, and cold, but it served its purpose. This was where they had their private meetings, where only the higher ups were allowed. Kat couldn't remember when she'd been invited to the back room, but she knew that when the members had started looking at Jamison and her for answers, she'd turned from member to leader.

And now president, Kat reminded herself as all eyes turned to her. Pulling out a chair herself, Kat propped her legs up on the table and leaned back, trying to assess the situation rationally through eyes clouded by sleep.

Taking a deep breath around a wide yawn, Kat spoke. "I want you both to explain what is going on."

Billy looked around ready to pee himself, while Solomon had a sardonic smirk on his face. It was crazy to see them look so similar, but act so differently. Whereas Billy was wet-behind-the-ears and trying to play it off with bravado, Solomon was a hardened criminal, a man who'd earned his scars through blood, sweat, and tears. It was the difference between a boy and a man.

"I-I killed Jamison." Billy stammered as sweat far down his face, mixed with tears.

Kat swung her head to look at the kid at the same moment Solomon backhanded Billy and sent him flying from the chair onto the floor. Everyone was quiet, stunned as they looked at Solomon's calm face and Billy's shocked wide eyes staring up at him.

"Y-you hit me," Billy whispered shocked and hurt.

Solomon just ignored the kid and turned to Kat, seeming to ignore the three hulking Devil's Hitmen in the room with them too. "Call off your dogs, Kit-Kat and let's talk."

Tense seconds stretched into minutes as Kat regarded Solomon through half lowered lid. I know it's not a good idea, but... Where Solomon was concerned, rational flew out the window. "Everybody leave."

Four heads snapped her way, and a few jaws dropped. "But Kat..."

A grin split Solomon's face. "You heard the lady."

"Kat don't let him--"

"How many of you think Solomon or Billy did it?" Kat interrupted as she took her feet off the table and planted them firmly on the ground.

Looking every member in the eye, Kat raised a questioning brow. "Seriously, who thinks these guys murdered Jamison?"

John, Dominic, and Joseph all looked at each other, then at Kat, and finally to Solomon and Billy. Solomon lounged in a chair, completely at ease, while Billy remained on the floor, hand covering his swollen cheek. It was a few more seconds of awkward deliberation from each man before they shook their head.

John stroked the back of his neck and regarded Kat. "I don't think they did it."

A murmur of agreement came from the other two men. Thought so. Kat had known early on that Solomon wasn't the killer, but he'd been willing to take the blame, surrender his life because it would have made them all sleep better. Kat had been willing to put an innocent man down, a man that her most trusted guys didn't even think did it.

Pushing away from her chair, Kat turned her back on the group and steeled her voice. "When I asked if anyone thought Solomon Parker was innocent, I got silence." She stretched out the word, forced it through her teeth. "Fucking silence."

In a whirl of black leather, Kat spun around and slammed her fists into the table, tears shining in the corners of her eyes. Every man flinched except Solomon, who didn't so much as twitch a muscle.

"I'd been ready to kill a man tonight, stain my soul with his blood--" she paused and looked at Solomon, things she couldn't say shining in her eyes. "Leave. Get the fuck out."

Her most trusted men had almost sold her soul to the Devil--she'd almost sold it to the Devil. And for what? it all seemed meaningless now. A man's life for a motorcycle club. How the hell did then even itself out?

Scuffling shoes and the click of a lock were the only indications that the men had gone, and the silence meant they'd taken Billy with them. Kat held her body stiff as she heard Solomon's chair scrape against the wood floor, but when he touched her she flinched back.

It wasn't a harsh touch, he didn't grip or grab her, his fingers were soft on her arm. But Kat would have liked it if he'd been rough, gotten angry, screamed, and hit her. She would have been able to call it even, or at least felt a little less bad about taking his life. But that wasn't how Solomon Parker worked.

Another gentle caress on her arm made her flinch back harder. "Don't touch me!" Kat bit out harshly as tears poured from her eyes like a faucet had just been turned on.

Strong arms closed around her with more steel than a cage, and Kat raged. "Don't touch me!"

She screamed the words, anger and despair making her voice hoarse. She thrashed in his arms as he held her, kicked and clawed in her attempt to get away. She couldn't handle him being gentle, treating her like porcelain when she'd nearly killed him. It was too much.

Calm rain-water eyes met hers, and in her own chaos she found a safe place. Though it shouldn't have been safe. Solomon Parker wasn't a safe man, he was dangerous and seductive.

"Get angry at me!" Kat pleaded, her anger calming down. "Rage at me! Hit me! Just don't--don't try to protect me. Please."

I can't... Kat hated herself. She'd been hiding it, sugar coating it, and calling it by a different name, but she'd been the one with the gun, the one with her hand on the trigger. What had made her think that it was life or death? No one had held a gun to her head and made her choose. It had all her internal, her own actions, and she knew that she, alone, would have faced the consequences.

"I'm so sorry." Kat sobbed, finally lowering her shield and doing something she hadn't done in years, apologize.

Through bleary eyes, she watched Solomon smile gently at her. "Shh. It's okay, Kat."

The sun was beginning to come up, rays shining through the slits in between the roof. But Kat knew she wouldn't care, she was drained, exhausted.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, ashamed as the world began to tilt, taking on a grayish hue.

Kat couldn't remember the last time she'd slept, the last time she ate. It had been a hectic day, a traumatic night--and that was just for her! She could only imagine what Solomon was going through, what she'd put him through.

He wasn't a murderer, and neither was she. Yet, they'd played the roles because neither of them had thought there was a way out.

"I forgive you, Kit-Kat," Solomon whispered against her hair, the words half smothered.

She didn't deserve it, Kat knew that. But it helped her release, he'd the pain in her head and in her heart. Darkness surrounded her, pulling her in, pulling her deep. At the moment before exhaustion claimed her Kat knew that she'd been an idiot, knew that Solomon's life couldn't be measured by her, only God had that power.

Chapter Two

Jamison's funeral was quiet but crowded. Every biker in the Devil's Hitmen was there along with a few other members of neighboring Clubs who'd known Jamison. Mindy was a nervous wreck, crying and screaming, sobbing on whichever shoulder was nearest to her. Kat happened to be that shoulder.

Patting Mindy's back, Kat was at a loss of what to say, so she decided on nothing. Jamison hasn't been murdered. No, he'd been stupid. He'd hidden his drinking from Mindy and none of the Devil's Hitmen had tried to stop him because he was that leader.

It had come as a shock to Mindy, but not really anyone else, when the police had called and told her that Jamison had died because he'd been drinking, driving, and not looking where he was going. No one had tampered with his bike, there wasn't some big conspiracy behind the incident, it had all been an accident.

Kat could still remember when she'd gotten the call. It was two days ago,the morning after the grove incident and Solomon had carried her home from the bar and tucked her into her bed. She'd been comfortably wrapped in his arms, when her phone rang.

Mindy had been at the police station, and she'd wanted Kat to come down for moral support. "I'll be right back." That's what Kat had told Solomon as she'd tugged on some close and left. "Don't leave."

Three hours later, Mindy had discovered her husband had never stopped drinking and Kat had found out about Jamison's death. She'd returned home mentally and physically exhausted only to find an empty house, a new lock on the door Solomon had broken and a note saying he'd be back soon.

That had been two days ago. But she couldn't blame Solomon, she'd nearly killed him because of an accident, because people had needed to blame someone for an accident.

Kat mentally sighed at the lives that had been destroyed by Jamison's own recklessness. Worst of all, a little part of everyone blamed themselves for Jamison's untimely demise. Kat could see it in every drawn face, in the silent tears sliding down ruby red cheeks, in the white knuckles and clenched fist of almost every member.

Casting her eyes around the funeral, Kat knew what they all were thinking, what she herself was thinking: Why didn't I stop him?

Kat had been wondering the question as she'd ridden with Mindy to the funeral, then climbed the hill to the grave sight. They'd all seen it, all seen the destruction the booze was causing him. They should've stopped him long before it got to the point where he'd gotten on his bike and ridden drunk.

Kat shook her head and drew back her dark thoughts. Her mother had been an alcoholic, and for the longest time, Kat had thought it was her fault she'd died of alcohol poisoning. At the tender age of ten, Kat had blamed herself mercilessly with "I should have been a better daughter." and "I should have tried to help, tried to take the bottle away from her."

It took a long time to realize that her mother's death was not her fault, and even though it was hard to admit it now, neither was Jamisons. People made their own choices, walked their own path. People are born alone, and they die alone. It was just the way of the world.

Kat knew there were things she could have done, small things to help, but at the end of the day, Jamison had made his choice and walked his own path.

"...Thank you for coming." The pastor ended as Jamison's closed casket was lowered into the grave, the sounds of metal grating on metal drawing Kat back.

Arms wrapped around Mindy, Kat stood looking at the grave as flowers and other mementos were thrown in. A spot of black on a neighboring hill caught her eye, and Kat looked up to see Solomon Parker. About a hundred feet away, the man stood dressed in conservative black, his hair pulled back and his shoulder resting on the trunk of a tree. Sunglasses covered his eyes and made him look mysterious, dangerous.

Kat didn't need the reminder. She knew better than anyone that Solomon Parker wasn't safe. The man didn't play by society's rules, didn't flinch in the face of death, or claim to be something he wasn't. Kat didn't doubt that whatever path Solomon Parker walked would be one he made himself, carved from broken heart, blood, and strength. It was just the man he was.

"Kat," John gently tapped her shoulder, his face just as drawn and tight as the rest of the members. "I'll take Mindy up."

Nodding, Kat turned Mindy over to John and watched him practically carry her to the edge of the grave. Turning herself away from the scene, Kat picked up her black stilettos from the mushy grass and started to walk towards Solomon. A few feet away from him she tripped on the wet grass, her the sick crack of her heel breaking in the muck, and began tumbling forward. But before she could hit the mud, he was there, picking her up and swinging her in his arms and out of the grass.

"You gotta be careful, Kit-Kat," Solomon's husky voice washed over her, settling in her gut like the harsh burn of her favorite whisky.

He was supposed to be gone, supposed to have disappeared like a thief in the night. Solomon Parker wasn't supposed to be at Jamison's funeral, picking her up like she was some virginal princess and he was some dashing knight. It just didn't work that way.

"What are you doing here?" Kat frowned when he didn't immediately put her down on the gravelly road, and her frown only deepened when she saw a shiny black SUV only a few yards away.

"Your place isn't here anymore, Kat. You know that." Solomon evaded her question and instead began to walk to the car, his black shoes crunching the gravel beneath their soles.

Kat narrowed her eyes at him, and squirmed anxiously in his arms. "Put me down, Solomon!"

"No."

Blowing out a frustrated breath, Kat decided not to fight with him on the issue. One thing she'd learned about Solomon over the few days they'd been together was that fighting with him was like fighting with a rock, she just wouldn't win.

Blowing out an exasperated breath, Kat waited to be put down. It wasn't like she had a qualm with being carried by a big, strong, sexy man. But it was Solomon Parker. The man was TROUBLE in all caps, and should have been born with a caution sign burned into his forehead