I don’t want the Prospects or the club whores to hear the MC’s business. Those bitches fucking need to go. I’ve had it. They’re not listening, and I don’t want them to cause any more issues like that bitch Dixie did with Poison. Dixie is fucking lucky that Poison didn’t slice up her face or kill her. Poison is no joke.
“Right, let’s go outside,” War says, moving his head up and down.
I walk across the clubhouse with War at my side. Diablo and my Brothers are on my other side. We walk out of the front door, down the driveway, to the Pavilion.
I stop at one of the side tables next to the bonfire. I take out my cigarettes and offer one to War and his Brothers. They take one and light up. I grab a cigarette, hand the box to Diablo, and I light up, inhaling deeply. I fucking needed this smoke to fucking relax.
I look at the motherfucker Wicked Warriors MC Prez, War. This has to be done, and it’s about fucking time.
“It’s been a long time coming,” I say, taking a drag.
“It’s fucking necessary,” War huffs, moving his head up and down.
“We have information on some motherfuckers, the Herd Boys, the gang that’s trying to take over our turf. The stupid motherfuckers don’t have the money, brains, or crew to do it. We need to fucking crush them before they become a bigger problem,” I say, lifting my chin, grinding my black leather shitkicker into the ground.
“Agree. Do you have any ideas,” War asks, lifting his brow.
“Yeah, I want the MCs to join our muscles and brains to eradicate them from our turf. I don’t want the fucking punks causing more chaos, nor the po-po, to get into our business. Let’s wipe the Herd Boys from our turf,” I hiss, taking a drag of my cigarette.
“I hear you. It sounds like a plan, but I want something to lock in our union,” War says in a low tone, looking at me.
The Brothers shift positions from a relaxed stance to a ready-to-fight stance. I grind my molars, lift my chin, and stare at him stone-faced.
What the fuck is this bastard up to.
“What do you have in mind,” I ask, in a low tone, lowering my eyelids.
“I want Poison as my Old Lady,” War says stoically, taking a drag of his cigarette.
I stare at War, the Prez of the Wicked Warriors. I can’t fucking believe what he’s asking from me.
“Why the fuck would I do that? Why Poison? Do you know her? What the fuck,” I growl, throwing my cigarette on the ground and stomping it out with my shitkickers.
“Demon,” Fiend growls, taking a few steps to talk to me.
“What,” I scoff, looking at my Brother.
“Poison has been seeing War on the down low. She obviously wants him, and he wants her. So, don’t fucking mess this up for Poison or the MC,” Fiend whispers, standing next to me.
My blood boils, my gut twists, I’m so fucking pissed off. I shouldn’t be surprised; I was just talking to Poison about this. But it still makes me fucking pissed.
“Motherfucker! You’ve been fucking Poison! You have the fucking balls to be fucking her! The only reason that I’m not kicking your ass is because she wants you,” I growl, curling my fingers into my palms into a tight fist.
“Fucker, I didn’t know who she was until after,” War yells, gathering his forehead.
“That’s right,’ Fiend says, looking at me.
I fucking feel like a fool, not knowing what the fuck my sister was doing.
Fuck me!
“I’m making her my Old Lady, so what the fuck is the fucking problem! She’s mine,” War snarls, running his hand through his short hair.
Motherfucker!
“Fiend, bring Poison out here,” I growl, snapping my fingers.
“I’ll get her out here,” Fiend hums, walking away.
