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Shadow lets out a high, strained laugh. “Your girl was all hot for my dick until Stitch walked up on us.”
Stitch? Which one is he? The prospect? Great. I bet there’s some rule about his word not being as good as a full-patched brother or some shit.
“That’s not what it looked like to me, Prez.”
“Rooster?” Z lifts his chin.
Oh, thank God.
He’ll believe me, right?
Chapter Thirty
Z
The guys who don’t know me might think I haven’t asked Lilly directly what happened because her story doesn’t count as much as a brother’s.
They’re wrong.
Something bad happened to her.
Something that should never happen in my clubhouse.
The only question burning in my mind is how many people do I need to kill?
The scene I walked up on made it clear.
Murphy with his arms protectively around my woman, looking like he was about to murder anyone who came near her. Lilly, barefoot and clinging to him like he just saved her damn life. The way she’s trembling all over.
Those few observations told me all I need to know about what I walked up on.
Shadow’s in for a vicious beating, one way or another. Simple as that. Hitting on a member’s old lady is grounds for a beat down in our world. Hurting one? I’m within my rights to gut the motherfucker.
Do I want the backing of the brothers’ in the downstate charter before it goes down? Yeah, it’d be nice. It’s not necessary as far as I’m concerned. Let ‘em try to strip my patch.
Rooster crosses his arms over his chest and widens his stance, blocking Shadow’s only option for escape.
“Looked like she was trying to get away from him, which is why I yelled out instead of pulling up a chair to watch.”
I’m not in the mood for his jokes. I grunt at him and turn my gaze on Stitch.
Stitch may only be a prospect, but he speaks up and shows no fear. “She punched him in the balls, Prez. Unless that’s his fucked-up version of foreplay, it looked to me like he attacked her.”
“Fuck you, prospect,” Shadow spits. “She ain’t patched.”
“That’s the excuse you’re going with?” Rooster shakes his head. “You do remember her being introduced to everyone in this clubhouse as his old lady, right?”
“Nah, Shadow here thought he’d get even with me for telling him he can’t do whatever the fuck he wants to the girls around here, didn’t ya, bro?” I ask.
The corner of his mouth curls up.
“Too much of a coward to come at me directly, right?” I shift Lilly to the side and behind me a second before Shadow launches himself at my midsection.
The hit to the gut drives me back a few feet.
From the corner of my eye, I see Teller hustling Lilly away.
Now it’s on.
I shove Shadow back and take up a better stance.
His fist comes flying at me and I easily duck it.
“Get him, brother,” Murphy says from behind me, his signal that he has my back and no one will interfere.
Confident this won’t take long, I throw some of my own punches. A sweet burn rips through my knuckles as I collide with Shadow’s cheek.
Something crunches under my fist, but I don’t take a second to enjoy it.
I weave in closer and take two more shots. One to his face. One to the chest.
Shadow’s a bit smaller than me, but mostly muscle and a strong motherfucker. I don’t buy it when he stays down.
A few seconds later, he comes at me, attempting to slam his skull into my chin. I avoid that hit, but the momentum takes both of us to the floor.
Shadow lands a shot to my jaw and my head bounces off the rough carpet.
That’s enough of that.
Adrenaline rockets through my veins. Wrapping my legs around his torso, I twist and flip us where I can pound the ever-loving shit out of him.
I might not have visited Wrath at the new and improved Furious Fitness for lessons recently, but years of that big bastard tossing me around the ring in the name of “training” doesn’t fade overnight.
Blood sprays from his mouth and nose, coating my chin and dripping down the front of my shirt. Still, I don’t slow down.
No, I’m just gettin’ started.
No one touches my girl.
Shadow twists to the left.
Yeah, I’d duck these shots too.
A flash of silver reveals he wasn’t attempting an evasive maneuver. Someone yells out and footsteps thunder closer to us.
A line of fire sizzles over my thigh and while I’m processing the pain, he manages to roll us over.
He pulled a knife on me! A brother. His president.
Even though I’m on my back, I’m acutely aware of every movement. I block out the pain from the slash to my leg because I’m also aware that if he manages to take me out, Lilly and my brothers are in danger.
He jabs forward.
I catch Shadow’s hand an inch before he sinks the blade into my chest.
Hanging onto his knife hand for dear life, I seize a hold of his wrist and angle the sharp steel away from my ribcage.
Unfortunately for Shadow, I twist his wrist until the tip of the knife pointed at his liver. The fucker keeps coming at me, all of his weight bearing down.
His wide, surprised eyes when the knife pierces his skin aren’t as satisfying as you’d think. My brain’s running on pure survival instinct as I shove harder.
He grunts but keeps coming.
Or the momentum carries him forward.
Either way, he ends up impaling himself on his own damn knife.
Chapter Thirty-One
Z
Warm, slick blood gushes over my hand. Steer ends up pulling Shadow off me, throwing him to the floor.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he roars.
Shadow rolls to the side, clutching his side while blood seeps through his shirt.
Exhausted, I lay on the floor, staring at the ceiling for a few breaths. Blood and sweat drip off my forehead and into my ha
ir.
That escalated quickly.
The sounds of the clubhouse come rushing over me. I tip my head back, trying to pick Lilly, Murphy, or Teller out of the crowd, but all I see are a bunch of dirty boots and jean-covered legs.
I groan and sit up.
Rooster offers me his hand and pulls me off the floor. “You all right, brother?” he asks quietly.
“Better than he is.” I nod at Shadow.
Steer turns and stares at me. “Your call, Prez.”
I take in the shocked looks on the faces around me.
In some clubs, this is probably no big deal. Too many men with no respect for brotherhood who think they’re top dog in one club. A fight like this could be just another regular Friday night.
Not my club. We’ll spar with each other for fun and profit occasionally. Or to blow off steam. Hand out a beating when a brother’s earned it.
But pull a weapon on a brother?
Never.
Not since Rock, Wrath, and I took over the upstate charter years ago.
I need to make an example of Shadow. Every brother in this charter needs to understand challenging me or disrespecting me will result in harsh punishment. I also need to do it with a level head and with the support of the rest of the brothers so this doesn’t happen again.
I could pull a gun and blow a hole in Shadow’s skull—which honestly is my preference at the moment. While that might make everyone fear me, it won’t necessarily make them respect me. It’ll only be a matter of time before someone steps out of line again.
“Call the doc to patch him up.” I give Shadow’s injury a more serious inspection. “If he lives, we’ll vote on him immediately.”
“Prez, everyone saw him pull the knife,” Hustler says.
“Yeah, but Z jumped him.”
I turn, seeking the brother who uttered that bullshit.
My gaze lands on Smoke.
Figures.
“He touched my ol’ lady.” I growl out the words and consider punching Smoke.
“Women don’t come before brothers. You can’t strip his patch—”
“Are you drunk, old man?” Rooster says. He points two fingers at his eyes. “I saw him attack Z’s woman. That’s grounds for a beating every day of the damn week.”
