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We pulled into a reasonably quiet clubhouse—thank fucking God.
Ham said that most of the guys were out finishing up a security job in Huntsville, but that they should be back soon. I was pretty happy we wouldn’t have twenty pairs of eyes watching me ride in on the back of his bike, but it didn’t stop Levi from raising an eyebrow at us as we passed through the gates. We hurried inside the clubhouse grabbing a couple of bottles of water from behind the bar before heading out to the patio.
“How’s the hand feeling?” Ham asked, reaching for it and gently pulling it up to his face for inspection.
“It’s not so bad. The swelling’s almost completely gone,” I explained as I opened and shut my fist with very little pain.
His thumb brushed across the back of my knuckles, rubbing gently, soothingly. It was something I’d found him do more than once in the time we’d been together this afternoon. Perhaps it was a habit, something he did which maybe was more for him than it was for me. Either way, though, I liked it.
The roar of motorcycles filled the air around us as the club came flying down the street like usual and into the compound.
“Gotta admit…” Ham started, taking a step back and letting my hand fall between us, “… I’m impressed. And I meant it when I said I was real proud of you.”
“Yeah, I went from that quiet tormented girl to the crazy bitch who punches people in the face.” His laughter surprised me. I was still getting used to seeing this other side of him, the side that let loose and joked with me. The Hamlet I usually saw was dark and broody, always on some kind of mission, his mind focused on something else.
“Do you really care what any of them think?” Ham asked as he unscrewed the lid of his water.
I shrugged.
Did I really care what they thought?
“I guess not,” I admitted. I had a small group of friends at school—extremely small—who stood by me even through all the bullshit that Nick tried to spin. While gossip was often floating around about me, it was really only Nick and his friends that went out of their way to be douche bags and torment me in the hallways. The rest of the student body was guilty by silence. No one ever bothering to step in to say, ‘Hey, she doesn’t deserve that.’
“You know, sometimes we have to do things we aren’t entirely proud of to keep our sanity intact. You stood up for yourself. Who gives a shit if people start calling you Meyah the destroyer.”
My eyes shot up in horror only to find him with a smug grin on his face. “That’s not even funny, Hamlet,” I snorted, pursing my lips.
“Okay, okay.” He chuckled, holding his hands up in a defensive position. The way his eyes were lit up playfully sent a jolt of excitement tingling through me, and I tried to hide my face as I felt the electric current light my cheeks on fire. “What about the nose crusher? Fury Fists?” This time, he raised his hands in a fighting stance protecting his face with one and playfully jabbing at me with the other.
I tried to mirror him and hold my hands in the same position. He instantly stopped and placed both hands on his hips, narrowing his eyes on my fists and the way my body was placed. “Wow, we need to teach you how to throw a punch,” Ham noted as he scrutinized me closely.
“You punch one kid in the face, and suddenly everyone is a damn critic,” I groaned.
A deep familiar chuckle came from behind me, and I looked over my shoulder to find Uncle Leo shaking his head in amusement. “He’s right, girl. That’s fucking awful.”
I threw my hands up in the air and rolled my eyes. “Seriously, one punch and you guys are trying to prepare me for an MMA fight. Trust me, I don’t plan on punching any more kids in the face.”
“That’s disappointing,” Emma interjected as she slipped past Leo with a satisfied smile on her face.
Eagle followed after her with an amused smirk. “A coupla months at a real school, and she’s already turned into some bloodthirsty teenager.”
Emma had become one of my best friends over the past few months since her sister, Skylar, and Eagle took her in after she escaped this crazy cult. It was nice to have someone around the club to hang out with given there weren’t many club kids our age.
Emma rolled her eyes dramatically at Eagle’s smart remark before turning back to me. “You’re basically a hero at school. At least half the football team want your number. Apparently, they’ve all been wanting to knock our friend, Nick, out for a while, but the coach threatened to suspend them if they touched him.”
“Why?” Ham asked before I could get the question out myself. “The kid sucks at fucking football. I don’t know why the coach keeps putting him on the damn field.”
The club often did the security for the varsity football games. Our team did reasonably well, and things could get a little crazy at times between opposing supporters when we had home games. So while they were mostly there to keep things calm, most of the boys at the club had become quite invested in the team.
“He keeps getting put in because Nick’s mommy and daddy have the coach under their rich little thumbs,” Eagle explained, dropping his huge frame into one of the patio chairs and popping the cap on the beer in his hand. “Money speaks. I think we’ve all learned that by now.”
“Hey, Shake,” Wrench called as he stepped outside. He had a deep frown on his face which I noticed had Ham’s body instantly standing a little taller. “Can I speak to you for a minute?”
I looked up at Ham, and he offered me a smile. “Sorry, sounds important.”
“It’s okay. I’m kind of glad my mom won’t have a chance to lay into you,” I told him honestly, and he gently squeezed my hand in a show of support.
“Keep out of trouble, Fury Fists,” he murmured so no one else could hear before jogging back inside the clubhouse.
