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A disgusted sneer twisted his lips. “I told you to stay put. If you fuck up this auction, I will drag you into one of these rooms and let Tiny fuck your ass raw.”
The big biker with the beard grinned. “Why not now?”
Angel glared at him. “We need to move forward with the auction and sell off the merchandise. Wanna explain to your pres why you came back empty-handed?”
Tiny scowled. “No.”
Angel released me right as my knees buckled. I dragged air into my lungs, choking as I fell to the dirty floor. “Pick her up. It’s time.”
Tiny hauled me to my feet and gripped my upper arm, dragging me from the room. We left through the door opposite the hall, winding around a long conference table and chairs to another room. Noises from inside reached us as I trembled. Shouting. Laughter. Metal music turned low enough to hear the rumble of male voices.
Angel opened the door, gesturing for Tiny to enter first.
I lifted my chin high as my feet crossed the threshold into hell.
GUNNER SANK BESIDE me on a stool, pushing a beer toward me. “You look like you got shit on your mind.”
I accepted the beer and popped the top, taking a long swig before I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “Yeah,” I grunted, thinking of Molly and her fucking abusive stepdad. But the shit we discussed in church was also on my mind. Neither was good news.
I’d known Gunner since I was a kid. He founded the Feral Rebels with our pres, Hades. My uncle was tight with his brothers, and whenever I visited Ohio, which was often, especially in the summer, I hung out with Hades, Gunner, and Grave. They didn’t put up with any shit but helped raise me into the man I’d become.
Gunner ticked his chin at me. “Start talkin’. I ain’t ridin’ with your grumpy fucking ass back to Ohio until you do.”
I glared at the man I considered my closest friend and opened my mouth to contradict him, but he leaned back against the bar and folded his arms across his chest. His scowl followed.
“This shit with the Bladed Serpents isn’t sitting right,” I began. “It doesn’t make sense to start shit with the Vegas chapter. They know how well-connected the Feral Rebels are and how many charters we’ve got. It’s fucking risky to come at us like that and not expect retaliation.”
The Serpents were pushing into our territory and sellin’ on FRMC turf. That was the first issue. The majority of the problem focused on the meth and the shit they tainted it with, resulting in increased overdoses and deaths.
Hospitals saw a rise in ER visits. There were too many calls to 9-1-1, with tweakers experiencing hallucinations, confusion, and raging emotions. They teetered on the edge of insanity, and that spilled over when they turned violent and psychotic. Crime escalated in Vegas and the surrounding suburbs.
The LVPD and the health department got involved after the news media wouldn’t let up about the story. Now, we had the law breathing down our necks, stopping our members on the road, and being a fucking nuisance even though we didn’t push that shit. The FRMC didn’t earn through drug money.
“Yeah, but that ain’t what’s eatin’ at ya.”
“No,” I growled, “it’s not.”
A hand curled over my shoulder and slid down my arm, resting on my bicep. “Hey, Slash.”
I turned my head, catching the overdyed blond hair, fate tits, and the jewel glistening in Pinky’s navel. There was a time when the sight would make my cock jump to attention, but that shit no longer enticed me. I didn’t want anything to do with club whores or the hangers-on that hung around here.
I grasped Pinky’s wrist and shoved it away. “Don’t fucking touch me.”
She blinked, fluttering her lashes. “I could help ease that tension you’ve got.”
Gunner chuckled.
I narrowed my eyes. “Get lost.”
Pinky winked at me before she spun on her heel, heading down the line of men on stools at the bar to drink. One of my brothers would take her up on her offer, and I wasn’t surprised when she lowered to her knees and began sucking off the enforcer for the Las Vegas chapter, Ironwill.
I thought of Molly again, and my cock hardened. Christ. Why the hell did I want the one woman I shouldn’t touch?
Gunner chuckled as he smacked the top of the bar. “It’s a woman.”
“What?” I asked, picking up my beer and finishing it off.
“Your problem,” he laughed.
