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“Dirt,” Dane says in a stern tone.
“What do you mean?”
I turn to stare at him.
“Dirt, let it go,” orders Dane.
King stands and leans over the table. “Let him speak. Have you got something to say, Dirt?”
Standing, I point at him. “You’re a fucking disgrace. You come in here and challenge Dane at every opportunity when your own chapter is a fucking mess.”
King strides toward me, and although he’s taller than me, I stand and face him. He’s so close our chests are touching.
“What did you say?”
“You fucking heard me.”
He raises his fist and swings. I block it and hit him hard in the kidneys. King growls and swings again, hitting me in the jaw and sending me flying backward. Quickly, I get to my feet and charge, grabbing him around the waist, then lifting him up and throwing him down hard onto the wooden floors.
“Get up, you bastard, and we’ll see what you’re made of,” I sneer at him.
“For fuck’s sake, enough!” bellows Dane.
King scrambles to his feet, and we circle each other, fists raised. He throws the first punch, and I dodge it. King throws a second punch, and I dodge that too. He moves his left shoulder before he executes a punch so I know what’s coming. A good fighter gives nothing away, and I earned my name by being able to read the signs of a bad fighter. The key is to keep out of reach and hit them hard and fast, especially when they have size and bulk on them like King does on me.
“Are we going to dance or do this?” he torments me.
Dane moves in between us. “I will not have this shit in my house.”
Dropping my fists, I stare daggers at King, whose face is so red he looks about ready to have a stroke.
“This isn’t over, Dirt,” he sneers.
“Anytime, anywhere, you just name the place.”
“Dirt, sit the fuck down before I put you down,” Dane orders. “And you? This is my house, and you respect my rules.”
“I’m a chapter president, and he just laid hands on me. What are you going to do about that?”
“Fuck off, King. Everything he said is true. You didn’t need to come all this way. Is it you who betrayed the MC?”
“What?”
“Or did you let your VP fuck you over and turn a blind eye?”
King staggers back. “What are you fucking talking about?”
A knock sounds on the door, and Salvatore Agostino enters the room. “Am I interrupting something?”
“No. I was just asking King about our ventures in Vegas.”
“The MC is my life. How can you think I’d betray it?” King’s words seem sincere. “Bulldog did this?”
Dane turns, his face a mask of anger as he stares at me. “Sit down.” Over his shoulder to King, he says, “You too.”
Dane takes his place at the head of the table, and King pulls out a chair and falls into it. All the anger from before is seemingly gone.
Sal sits, his expression one I can’t read.
