Chapter Twenty-Three
Vic
Vic was helping Hurley and Pinto close up the club’s back lot after a long night when trouble rolled in wearing familiar eyes.
Conner Montrose stepped out of a blacked-out SUV like he owned the fucking pavement.Same height as their father, same sharp jaw, but he was harder now.His posture was military straight, his gaze cold, and the chip on his shoulder was the size of Wyoming.Two guys flanked him; their stances shouted they were clearly hired muscle.
“Well, shit,” Hurley muttered.“This ain’t good.”
“It’s my brother.”Vic shook his head.“Nope, I don’t think it’s good at all.”
Conner’s eyes locked on Vic immediately.A cruel smirk tugged at his mouth.“Little brother.Heard you were playing house with these biker boys.”
Vic stepped forward, shoulders squared.“Conner.What the hell are you doing here?What does it matter to you who I hang with?”
“Came to see what kind of trash my baby brother’s been running with.Everybody in half a dozen states knows who the Rebel Wayfarers are.I wanted to come see how you’re spending my inheritance.”Conner’s gaze slid to Hurley.“This the one who thinks he’s hot shit?”
Before Vic could answer, Conner shoved past him and deliberately shoulder-checked Hurley hard enough to make the big man stumble.
“The fuck?”Hurley’s eyes flashed.“You got a problem, asshole?”
“Yeah,” Conner said, grinning.“I got a problem with my brother thinking he’s better than the family he came from.Hanging around these pretend tough guys.They’ve been a pain in my ass about some of my money routes, something about not allowing dope on their turf.Assholes trying to run me out of business.If there wasn’t a demand, then I wouldn’t have the supply.”
Things escalated fast.
One of Conner’s guys swung on Pinto.Hurley grabbed the other.Vic went straight for Conner.
Fists flew.Vic landed a solid hit to Conner’s jaw, but his brother was quicker than expected.The experience of years of whatever life he’d been living had made him mean.Conner countered with a brutal elbow that split Vic’s lip.
Then someone pulled a baseball bat from the SUV.
The crack of wood against bone echoed across the lot as one of Conner’s men swung at Hurley.The big Rebel took the hit across the ribs with a grunt but didn’t go down.
Vic saw red.
He tackled the man with the bat, wrenching it from his hands and cracking him across the knees.The guy dropped, howling.
Conner laughed, and it came out as a bitter, ugly sound.“Still playing hero, huh?Always were Dad’s favorite little savior.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Vic snarled, breathing hard, blood dripping down his chin.“You don’t get to show up here and fuck with my people.You aren’t anything, Conner.Nothing I want to be associated with, that’s for sure.”
“Tell Mason we’ve got trouble in the back forty,” Pinto said into the phone, and Vic silently thanked him for being the one to make that call.
“You don’t get it, little brother.You’ve got something of mine, and I want it now.Grams said there wasn’t anything Rosie left me, but you couldn’t be living the way you are without some extra green.Way I see it, that’s my green.”Conner lifted his chin, staring down his nose at Vic.“Do you comprehend, Victor?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Before Vic could say anything else, Mason arrived like a storm.
The Rebel Wayfarers MC national president stepped into the chaos with several patched members behind him.His face was thunderous as he took in the scene—Hurley holding his side, blood on Vic’s face, Conner and his men looking worse for wear.
“Enough,” Mason barked.His voice cut through everything.“You”—he pointed at Conner—“got ten seconds to explain why the fuck you’re on my property starting shit.”
Conner wiped blood from his mouth and sneered.“Just catching up with family.”
Chase pushed through the crowd, eyes wide.“Dad—”
