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He slips around the corner, hurrying away from me.
I move faster through the crowd, shouldering people out of my way.
“Oh, hi! You’re Rock, right? The president?” the girl Rav had been talking to asks.
“Not now,” I growl, moving past her. At least she chose her costume well.
Kitchen.I bet that’s where the fucker’s headed.
“What’s wrong, Prez?” Hoot asks as I pass him. “Prez?” he calls again.
I stop and turn. “You seen Ravage?”
“Yeah.” He points down the hallway. “Saw him go into the kitchen like three minutes ago.”
I snarl and keep moving. This clubhouse has a more open design. No door closing off the dining room and kitchen like we have at the compound. I have a good view of the kitchen. It’s large by most standards. Meant to prepare meals for twenty or more people.
More barely dressed girls I don’t recognize mill around, preparing snacks and drinks. I catch sight of Rav ducking into the pantry.
Gotcha, fucker.
I don’t have to dodge the girls, they trip over themselves to jump out of my way. So close now. I reach out and grab the collar of Rav’s cut, yanking him backward.
His arms pinwheel out, scrambling for something to help keep him on his feet. Boxes of cereal spill to the floor. His boots slide in the mess, and he ends up on his ass. Keeping my hand fisted in his cut, I step around him. He stares up at me with wide-eyed panic.
“Prez.” He holds his hands up in the air. “Let me explain.”
I unsheathe my hunting knife, then squat so we’re eye-level and tap the blade against his leg. “Give me a reason not to slice off your nuts and feed them to you as punishment for walking in on my ol’ lady?”
He stares at the knife and slaps his hands over his crotch to shield himself. “It was an accident! I swear. I didn’t even realize you guys were at the clubhouse yet. You know I’d never do anything to disrespect you or Hope,” he says in a desperate rush of words.
I release him but keep the knife pointed at his junk.
“I’m really attached to my nuts, Prez,” he pleads. “And, uh, I haven’t decided if I wanna have kids one day.”
Am I really going to mutilate him? Probably not. Do I want to scare him into learning how to knock before entering? Absolutely.
“What’d I miss, Rock?” Wrath rumbles from above us.
Ravage squeezes his eyes shut like the grim reaper just arrived to collect him.
I glance up at Wrath looming over us, arms crossed over his chest. His expression’s blank. Hard and calculating. Punishments are usually his responsibility.
“Not your concern,” I say.
He flicks his gaze at Rav, then at the knife in my hand. “Now I see why the girls freaked out and came looking for me.” He taps Ravage’s leg with his boot. “What’d you do now, fuckwit?”
I point the knife at Rav’s face and cock my head, daring him to say a word.
He wisely keeps his mouth shut.
“Seems you have things handled.” Wrath turns and walks away.
I tuck my knife into its sheath and stand. Rav eyes me carefully, then slowly picks himself up off the floor.
“If I hear that you ran your mouth about what you saw up there to anyone,” I warn, “you won’t see me coming.”
“I swear. My lips are superglued.”
