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“We will follow whatever our leader decides,” he tells me, wrapping his arm around her waist. I don’t miss the way she flinches, and it causes a slither of a smirk from me that I’m sure he’ll notice.
“Well then, I hope for all your sake he makes the right one.” I turn my attention to Shaniya. “You eaten since this morning?” I narrow my eyes at her and watch her cheeks flush pink. We may be worlds apart on the cultural front, but she finds it impossible to lie to me, and I like that.
Her head shakes subtly and I pull the sandwich Marilyn made from my cut pocket.
“Here,” I pass it over, and when she reaches out her hand and takes it, her fingertips brushing against my knuckles causes the hairs to lift from my skin.
“There’s plenty of food at the club,” I tell Tawk, who’s staring at me like he’s about to pounce.
“I can provide for myself,” he tells me brashly, adding to the tension between us.
“I need to get back to the club, I’ll be seeing you later.” I tip my chin at Shaniya, stepping past them both to head back to my bike.
When I get back to the club, I head into the smaller bar room where most of the brothers are hanging out. In here we pour for ourselves, the room is strictly members only and as I sit quietly in the corner, I try to distract myself from thinking about Tawk's hands on Shaniya. The way he’d pulled her up against him pissed me off and I can feel the frustration building up inside me. Just as I’m about to head off to relieve it at the gym, Nyx’s eyes flick up to the monitor up on the wall.
“Looks like we’ve got a delivery, boys.” He reaches forward to put out his smoke in the ashtray, and all our heads turn to watch the screen that feeds from the CCTV at the front gates. A black transit has pulled up and when the side door slides open, Shaniya’s uncle is kicked out onto the gravel.
“Well,” Prez pours himself another large measure of scotch from the bottle beside his glass. “Let's see if a little time away has changed his opinion on the outlaws,” he sniggers.
Squealer and Skid return a few minutes later, carrying the chief into the bar and sitting him in a chair opposite Prez. His hands are still bound behind his back and he looks as though he’s taken a few jabs to the face, but there don’t seem to be any serious injuries.
“So you wanna rethink that offer we made you?” Prez opens the conversation with a smug grin on his face. The chief looks pissed. He’s been made to look weak in front of his people and worst of all, his only hope of saving them from ruin is to accept help from the men he hates.
“Am I your prisoner, Jimmer Carson?” the chief asks calmly.
“No, you ain’t my prisoner, you’re a free man. Free to make your own decisions,” Prez answers, knocking back what’s left in his glass.
“Then would you show me the respect of untying me?”
“Of course.” Prez gives the nod to Skid, who steps forward and pulls out the knife from his belt. He slices through the ropes with his blade and frees the chief’s hands.
“I made a wager with the man who took you, one we can both benefit from,” Prez starts.
“A wager?” The chief looks horrified. “You have balanced the future of my people on a wager?”
“I freed you and gave your people a little hope back,” Prez corrects him. “Troj here will fight against the opponent Ivan puts forward. He will win, your land will remain yours and you will allow us passage whenever we require it,” Prez lays it out, and silence falls in the room.
The chief is out of options, relying on us is the only way he can save his village.
“And how can we be sure that your man here will win the fight?” The chief eyes me up and down as if I ain’t fuckin’ worthy, and the cocky grin that spreads on my face is accompanied by the low chuckles and snorts of Prez and all my brothers.
“Trust me, he’s a safe bet. Ain’t ever let us down before.”
“I too have a warrior, a strong man who would be proud to fight for his people.” The chief holds his head up proudly.
“Jesus Christ,” Squealer speaks under his breath. “This guy’s gotta be kidding.”
“Your warrior…” Prez leans forward in his seat, “…tell me how many fights he’s won?”
“He has had no fights.” The chief keeps his head high, despite how ridiculous his answer sounds.
“And you expect me to put him in the ring, over our champ?”
“My man could be the best fighter this world has ever seen, yet you would never know if he hasn’t had a chance to prove himself.”
“Well then.” Prez stands, rubbing his hands together. “Let’s go meet your warrior, Chief.”
I ride up with Prez, Jessie, Nyx, and Grimm to the tree line. Screwy, Squealer and Skid follow in the cage with the chief, and all of us make the rest of the journey on foot. When Shaniya spots her uncle, she runs toward him and greets him with a huge hug.
