I lace my fingers behind my head. What a fucking day all around—being shot at, losing Hank, the decision to go to war with the Demons. She’d clung to me during that madcap ride back to Tucson, and while the circumstances weren’t as I’d imagined for her first ride, I loved her being on the back of my bike. Her arms tight around me, her breasts squashed up against my back.
But she’d been scared, terrified. While I’d been running on the endorphins triggering my flight or fight response, pushing my bike to its limits, feeling the exhilaration which comes along with that, she’d been petrified, hanging on for dear life. Then she’d found out about Hank and Peg, and I’d laid on her the reason for the attack. While none of my brothers would put the blame at her door―they’d answer to me if they did that―the truth is, if it wasn’t for that fucking contract on her, Hank would still be alive. That’s one fuck of a lot of guilt for her to be saddled with. And I’d just thrown the old lady label in there as if it weren’t nothing at all.
Unlocking my hands, I wipe them over my tired eyes, then cup my cheeks. No wonder she doesn’t want to get more involved with an MC. Pushing her tonight was the worst fucking timing. My reasons? I could have seen her taken or killed today, and I didn’t want to waste a moment of our time together. But looking at it from her side, asking her to be my old lady when she’d watched one of my brothers die might just have been a stupid fucking thing to do.
But she hadn’t said any of that. She’d told me she wanted me for nothing more than entertainment in bed. As I run over our conversation, although the night carries a chill I begin to sweat, my heart rate increases, and my hands start to shake. How fucking dare she say the things to me that she did? My emotions tonight are swinging like a pendulum as rage sweeps through me once again.
As my teeth start to grind, I know right now I could kill someone, or fuck. My cock’s still rock hard, as I’d expected to be inside her by now. Expected to claim my old lady in every way I could. Getting to my feet, deciding I’ll find another whore to address my needs, with just a few paces I weave around the firepits and enter the clubhouse, which by now is fucking empty, not one single bitch is hanging around to scratch my itch. For Christ’s sake, this has been a total fuckup of a day.
Briefly, I consider waking one of the sweet butts―it’s nothing more than they’d expect, they’re well compensated for their services―but suddenly it seems too much bother. Electing on a different solution, I reach behind the bar and grab a bottle of Jack, not bothering to get a glass. Taking myself off to my room, I throw myself on the bed and lift the bottle to my lips, knowing the only thing left to do tonight is to seek oblivion.
The next thing I know, I’m being woken by a banging on my door and the empty bottle falls off the bed. My head is throbbing, and I feel like shit, and immediately I regret the remedy I chose last night. Why does drowning your sorrows seem like such a great fucking idea until you wake the next day?
The banging comes again, and then the door opens.
“The fuck you doing here? Thought you’d be with your ol’ lady? That was the first place I looked… What the fuck’s happened to you?”
Wishing he’d speak a bit more quietly, I answer Peg with a snarl, “Ain’t got no fuckin’ ol’ lady.”
Peg’s eyes widen and he takes a step into the room. He gives me a long hard stare. “What happened? You fuck it up, Brother?”
Right at this moment I can barely remember my name, let alone the details of last night. “Just leave me alone, Peg.”
But he doesn’t go. Instead, he steps closer, invading my personal space. “What did you say to her? You hurt her and I’ll…”
As his voice trails off, I realise how protective he is of her, bound as they are by a common disability.
A quick shake of my head, which I immediately regret, I get my rebuttal in quickly before he starts using the fists our sergeant-at-arms is famed for. “No, Peg. She wasn’t the one to get hurt.”
His mouth drops open as the penny finally drops. “She turned you down?”
“Yes.” Saying it is less painful than nodding.
His head cocks to one side as though shocked, and his hand comes up, cupping his chin. “Well, fuck me. You two were tight back in Utah. I thought she was into it as much as you. What did she say?”
“That she only wanted me for a one-night stand.”
A laugh bursts out of him. “Thought that was your line.”
The bright light is hurting my eyes. “Seems all she wanted was a good fuckin’.”
“Jesus.” I know Peg will understand, offering to make her my old lady was a fucking big step for me to take. That she turned and threw it back in my face hurts. A lot. He glances around him, then grabs the chair and sits down. Leaning back, he crosses his feet at the ankles and folds his arms. I sigh. He’s settling himself in for the long haul, and I don’t feel up to this right now.
“I’m sorry, Wraith.” He sounds sympathetic.
I believe he truly is, but I’m dreading the reaction of my other brothers, knowing they’ll be mocking me. The VP turned down by a woman―fodder for one heck of a lot of ragging.
After a moment, Peg speaks again. “Yesterday must have been fuckin’ hard for her,” he starts. “Perhaps you shouldn’t have pressed so soon.”
That’s the hope I’m clinging to. What the fuck? As the thought hits me, I realise at least one part of me is willing to go down on my fucking knees and beg if it meant I had the chance to be with her. And I don’t do that. Someone fucking rejects me, throws the biggest compliment I can ever pay them back in my face? I don’t go back for fucking seconds.
“Get yourself showered and dressed, and get a prospect to clean that puke off the floor.” Puke? Leaning over, I see the drying puddle on the carpet. Shit! My arm goes over my head—I really laid one on last night. Why the fuck won’t Peg just go and leave me to wallow? “I’ll keep my fuckin’ mouth shut until you go and have a fuckin’ conversation with Wheels. If you want her, don’t let your pride get in the way. Last night, fuck…” His hands run through his shortly shorn hair. “She might think differently now that she’s slept on it. Losing Hank hit her hard. Give her another chance, man.”
Give her another chance to turn me down? I don’t fucking think so. “No, she’s made her choice. I don’t go back, Peg. Ever.” Uh-uh.
He leans his head back, closing his eyes briefly before turning back. “If I’m reading her right, there’s something she’s not telling you, something that’s behind her rejection. Find out what it is before you slam that door for good.”
“I don’t fuckin’ care what’s in her head. She’s made her choice.” I’m repeating myself, but he’s not getting the message.
Another long assessing stare, then he shrugs as if dismissing the subject. “Came to tell you fuckin’ Chrissy’s just turned up, sweet as pie and acting like normal. Drum wanted me to come get you.”
Shit! The last thing I want to deal with this morning is that fucking bitch. Or is it? My lips curl up into a parody of a smile that would make grown men turn and run. Perhaps dealing with a traitor is exactly what I need. I’m not in the mood to be forgiving.
Telling Peg I’ll be there in a few, he at last leaves me alone. Dragging myself to a sitting position, wincing at the pain in my head, I grab a couple of ibuprofens from the bottle I keep in the drawer for just such occasions as this, and swallow them dry. When I can cope with being vertical, I stand, swaying, still slightly drunk. I run through the shower and dress, careful not to step in the pool of vomit on the floor.
My head finally clearer, I’m ready to deal with the business of the day. Fuckin’ Chrissy―if she’d been the one to betray my club, to betray my… No, not my, the woman, I’m not going to be merciful. Fuck knows how everything would have turned out if we hadn’t been ambushed, if Hank hadn’t been killed, and if Wheels hadn’t become terrified of her association with the club.
The first sign for Chrissy that she might have fucked something up comes when Peg drags her wi
th a tight hold on her arm into the meeting room we use for church. Prospects are rarely invited in, club whores, never. He stands her at the end of the table, not offering her a seat, and with a terse command to stay there, comes to take his seat opposite me at the right hand side of the prez, throwing a nod to Blade, who’s already in his customary place. As I speculate how Drummer is going to play this, I watch her, my eyes cold. Any man would tremble being called in front of his prez, sergeant-at-arms, enforcer, and VP. Chrissy’s gone from cocky to terrified.
“Sit down.” Drummer gives her the permission which Peg hadn’t. I keep my expression neutral but am surprised at the softness in Drum’s voice—he’s even dredged up a smile for her from somewhere. Peg raises his eyebrow at me.
“Sweetheart,” Drum starts, the endearment sounding strange, but it seems to relax her, “we’d like your help with something.”
Of course, he’s not the president for nothing. His welcoming approach and encouraging smile put her at ease. I’d have just interrogated the bitch, but taking the lead from him, I lean back, folding my arms and making every effort to gentle my features. I don’t think it’s working, but for once her focus isn’t on me.
“Of course, Drummer, anything,” she simpers in reply. She pulls her back up straighter, and her lips curl up. Stupid whore.
“Last night, Hank was killed.” Drummer frowns as he gives her the bad news.
Now her lips turn down. “I heard. What a shame. Still, he was only a prospect.”
My fingers are curling into fists, nails digging into my palms. Only a prospect? How dare she disrespect a man who gave his life for the club? It’s hard to keep my temper under control. Throwing a look at Drummer, I see his leg impatiently bouncing under the table, and can see he’s just as angry as me.
“He’ll be buried a fully patched member,” Drum informs her, still managing to keep his voice even.
“Oh. That’s good.” The inadequate statement shows she’s stumped for anything to say. “How can I help you?” The moronic bitch is puffing herself up with importance. Club whores do not get called into this room. If we need their input on anything, we’ll fuck it out of them.
Now Drum starts to get down to business. “It seems we’re up against the Rock Demons, and you might be able to help us with that. Heard they’ve been coming into our territory and you might have seen them at the Running Horse.”
If I hadn’t been watching her carefully, I might have missed the flicker of fear that comes into her eyes for a second.
She takes a moment to respond. “I was there the other night. Yeah, saw some bikers there, but I didn’t know who they were. They weren’t wearing cuts.”
“You spoke to them?”
She shrugs. “One of them bought me a drink, so I sat with them awhile.”
Drum leans forward. “And what did you speak about?”
Another dismissive shrug. “We were just shooting the shit, you know? They were flirting with me.”
Now we give her board, lodging, and spending money for the services she provides to the brothers, but as long as she keeps herself clean, there’s nothing to say she can’t go with another man. But someone from another club?
Drummer’s face is growing dark, and I can see a vein twitching in his forehead. Familiar signs that any moment now he’s going to lose his shit and the whore will shortly find out what it means to be brought in front of the president of the Satan’s Devils. Both of his legs are bouncing furiously now as he leans further forward.
“We know you were talking to them about club business. Beef overheard some of it. Now you’ve got two choices—keep on pretending you didn’t let anything loose or fuckin’ fess up and tell us exactly what you told them.” As she goes to speak, Drum holds up his hand. “I’m telling you now, take the first route and you’ll get a fuckin’ bullet in your head.” To emphasise his point, he takes out his gun from his shoulder holster and lays it on the table.
And take the second she’ll end up the same way, but hopefully we’ll have got some useful intel first. I exchange looks with Peg. We both know what’s going to have to happen. Not that we like it, killing women is something we’d never normally do. In fact, I can’t remember the club ever doing it before, certainly not in my time. But Chrissy can no longer be trusted, as a club whore she probably picked up too much knowledge for us to just set her loose.
Drummer gives her time to think about her position. Apart from the automatic twitching of his legs, his physical signs of anger that she can’t see, he simply stares her down. As he does so, the blood slowly drains from her face and she goes paler by the second, and her gaze flits down to the weapon lying threateningly within the prez’s reach. As though to back him up, Blade takes out a knife and starts using it to clean his nails. Peg leans forward and puts his clenched fists on the table.
That’s enough to get her talking. With a narrowing of her eyes, she rounds on me. “It’s all your fuckin’ fault, Wraith. You should have been fuckin’ me, not that fuckin’ cold crippled bitch.” As my mouth falls open, she continues in a whiny voice, “I’ve been good to you, Wraith, so why did you toss me aside?”
Luckily I’m saved from answering as Drum slams his fist down on the table. “No fuckin’ excuses. Whatever the VP did or didn’t do is no concern of yours. You’re a club fuckin’ whore of the Satan’s Devils, and should know better than to shoot your mouth with anyone.”
“I didn’t know they were from the Demons!” But her eyes flitting away, unable to meet ours, show that she did.
“Now I won’t be asking again. What did you fuckin’ tell them?” His tone is chilling and quiet, almost worse than if he was shouting.
Tears start coming from her eyes as the predicament she’s got herself in dawns on her. Lowering her head into her hands, she tries to wipe them away. “I would never betray the club,” she starts.
“But you did,” Drummer interrupts.
A loud sob, and then she starts to tell us what we want to know. “I didn’t mean to, I was just so angry. Wraith had been so awful to me.” Her voice breaks. “They bought me a couple of drinks and then started asking if I’d seen a cripple around.”
I have to breathe a deep breath to stop myself from blurting out that she’s never to call Wheels that again. She’s not even discussing her as though she’s a real person. Suddenly I find myself hating the handle we’ve given her―she’s more than that fuckin’ chair she’s been imprisoned in and is fighting so hard to get out of.
Chrissy carries on, and now that she’s started it seems she’s not going to stop. “I just told them she was here. I didn’t say anything about the club.”
“And what fuckin’ else? I want it all, Chrissy.” Drum knows there’s more to come.
“Well, I might have mentioned that she was gonna go to Utah to get her leg fixed. But Wraith,” she looks at me with a longing look, and then throws an apologetic glance toward Peg, “I never thought you or Peg would be going with her, I thought you’d just send prospects. So when they asked when you’d be coming back, I told them the stop off you usually used—”
“You fuckin’ bitch!” Drum stands and thumps both fists down on the table, making the wooden top jump. “Is that all? Did you say anything else?”
Shaking now, she points a trembling hand toward me. “I might have told them she’d stolen my ol’ man, that he was giving her his protection…”
“And put Wraith right in their fuckin’ sights! You stupid, stupid bitch!” Drum kicks his chair away from behind him and starts to storm out of the room, turning as he reaches the door. “VP, take Blade and Peg with you. You know what you gotta do?”
Chrissy goes completely white now as she realises the death sentence that’s just been passed. Fucking Ace―I’ve got to kill a woman? Much as I hate her and know it’s got to be done, I’m not sure if I can handle it. Oh, I’ll do it, my prez has told me to, and there can be no other way out of it for her. Peg is looking intently at his hands, as if already seeing her b
lood on him. I know this will go against the grain with him too. Blade doesn’t look any happier.
The betraying whore is staring at us in horror. She knows there’s nowhere to run.
Then, behind her, I see Drum take out his second gun from the back of his jeans and, without her knowing, lines it up on the back of her head. Pop, pop. Two shots and she falls dead on the table.
I feel like collapsing with relief. The traitorous bitch is dead, and not by my hand. “Thanks, man.” My grateful comment is heartfelt.
Drummer is still standing behind her body, his face drawn. “Not in any of our natures to kill a woman, boys. But my ass is the one sitting at the head of the table, so I wasn’t gonna ask anyone else to do it.” He looks down on her lifeless body for a second, blood slowly leaking onto the table. “Get the prospects in here to clean up the mess. When that’s done, get the boys together for church.” He spares me a nod. “You’re gonna have to watch yourself, Wraith. They might be coming through you to get to her.”
It doesn’t seem to be the right time to tell him Wheels has shown me the door and whatever, the damage is already done. Thanks to Chrissy, the Demons think we’re an item, whatever the truth of it is.
Peg and I leave soon after Drummer, pausing outside the room when the sergeant-at-arms puts his hand on my arm. “You okay?”
I nod. I fucked Chrissy, more than the others I admit, but I didn’t have any particular feelings for her. And anyway, apart from her recent behaviour, her betrayal would have killed any compassion stone dead.
“I’ll get this taken care of.”
I thank him, knowing he means he’ll make sure she’s buried far up in the forest where her body will never be found—just like Buster. Seems we’re digging far too many graves recently. I lean against the wall, my eyes closing as I come to grips with what’s just gone down. It’s a dark day for the club, but it couldn’t have turned out any other way.
When I look up again, Peg’s got mischief twinkling in his eyes. “You ready to see your woman, now?”
I open my mouth to refute the ownership he’s assigned to me, then shrug as I realise any anger toward her had dissipated during the unpleasant meeting I’ve just sat through. “Yeah, I’ll go see if we can talk.”
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