Soulless (Lawless #2) by T.M. Frazier
How well I have learned that there is no fence to sit on between heaven and hell.
—Johnny Cash
PROLOGUE
Bear
I was mad at the world, at the whiskey for not being strong enough, at the drugs for not lasting long enough, at the f*cking whores I banged for not getting me off when it was my fault my dick was f*cking useless after a bucket of f*cking blow. I went so far as to be pissed at random people on the street for laughing or smiling when I felt like I’d never be able to smile or laugh again.
How dare they?
How f*cking dare they move on with their lives like my friend hadn’t just died.
I was on the verge of losing what little sanity I had left when I rode out of Logan’s Beach and set off to find a place, or places, where I could numb myself against the feelings that followed me from town to town, cheap motel to cheap motel, girl to girl, high to f*cking high.
Then, this pink haired girl from the past came barreling into my life and it was like for the first time, I’d found a purpose. A real genuine purpose and not just some shit Chop spewed out as orders, that I and every other member of the Beach Bastards took as bible, but a true reason to live again.
To WANT to live again.
Someone to live for.
Ti was my chance at some sort of real happiness when Lord f*cking knows I had no idea what that really was before her. The only glimpses of real genuine happiness I’d ever had came courtesy of Preppy, King, and of course Grace. Like when King tattooed us for the first time and we loved them? even though they were crooked and downright f*cking awful. Like when Grace made me my very first birthday cake. Like the time King, Prep, and I sat at the top of the water tower and thought the world was ours to take.
Because at that time, it was.
Then there was Ti, and my new happiness became the first time I saw her smile. The first time I kissed her. The first time I tasted her * by the fire. The first time she let me inside of her, shamelessly pushing through her virginity in a frantic need to make her mine.
Because that’s what she was.
That’s what she would always be.
And I will kill every motherf*cker who dares to try and take her from me.
Mine.
CHAPTER ONE
Bear
Thirteen years old…
I went into my old man’s office to let him know that the shipment he’d been asking about for the last month was finally at the gate. The second I opened the door, I instantly regretted forgetting to knock. Chop was leaning back on the faded green chair in the corner of the room with his jeans down around his ankles, a beer in his hand. A redhead BBB named Millie, or Mallie, or Jennie, was on her knees between his legs, her head bobbing up and down on his dick. “Shit,” I muttered, remembering how much shit he gave me the last time I interrupted him with a chick. The black eye took two months to go away, and after that, he’d put me on gate duty for an entire f*cking month.
Grabbing the door handle, I slowly retreated backwards, hoping he hadn’t noticed me.
I wasn’t that lucky.
“What the f*ck have I told you, boy?” he bellowed. I froze. “You f*cking stupid or something? You remember what happened last time you showed me disrespect? I tell you to f*cking knock and you just walk in like you own the f*cking place?” The girl lifted her mouth off his dick with an audible pop and I cringed. “Don’t f*cking stop, bitch. Did I tell you that you could f*cking stop?” Chop grabbed the back of her head and shoved her back down on his dick, holding her there.
“Sorry, Pop,” I said, a slip of the tongue and something else that was sure to set him off.
“Pop? Pop!” This time he yanked the girl’s head off his lap and threw her to the side, she landed on her hip and winced. He stood, tucking himself inside his jeans, zipping up as Jodi ran past us out the door. “What are you supposed to call me, son?” Chop spat, getting in my face. I could smell the beer on his breath.
“Prez,” I answered, looking to the floor as I’d been instructed.
“That’s right. Prez. The Daddy and Pop shit was for when you were a kid, and you ain’t no f*cking kid no more,” he said. “Why do I want you to call me Prez?” he asked, poking me in the chest.
“Because you are the Prez,” I said, reciting the words he’d made me say ever since I’d officially turned prospect, and he’d decided that Pop was somehow a term of disrespect.
“That’s right, prospect. Me. I’m your f*cking Prez. I’m not your dad, or your pop, or your f*cking old man.” Chop grabbed me by my blank cut and tugged me down the hall and then down the stairs into the common room. A few of the brothers were sitting on stools at the bar. Most of the others were playing pool, their bets stacked up in high piles on the rim of the table, indicating the high stakes of the game.
Although it didn’t really matter how high the stakes were because the second Chop entered the room they put down their cues and turned their attention to us. He stood behind me and pushed me forward. I braced myself on one of the tables to keep from falling, sending a stack of bills scattering to the floor.
“Tell them. Tell your future brothers who I am, prospect,” Chop ordered, taunting me like he was waiting for me to snap. I was pissed but I wasn’t f*cking stupid. All I had to do was bide my time as a prospect because once I was a patched member he’d have to show me some respect.