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“Bane, go sober up. This has nothing to do with you.”
“This has everything to do with me. Because of you four fuckers, my sister is dead. All because that little pissant fucker couldn’t keep his dick in his pants,” he said, pointing a finger at Kansas.
“Jesus,” Arizona groaned. “Is fuck nut still butt hurt because of what happened twenty years ago?”
“Yeah,” Kansas replied angrily, crossing his arms over his chest. “Fucker can’t let the past go.”
“That’s rich coming from you. How many women have died now because of you?”
Before we could grab him, Kansas tackled the drunk fucker to the ground. Punching the bastard repeatedly, it took me and Arizona to get Kansas off Bane. “You sick motherfucker! You say another word and I will fucking gut you!”
Bane laughed manically. “Like your club brother did to Katie?”
Fuck me. This was going to be a long night.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Montana
It was damn near three in the morning before my brothers left. Dad tried to stick around to talk some sense into me, but I wasn’t interested.
I was fucking bone tired. Tired of dealing with family drama, tired of dealing with fuckers who didn’t know how to stay dead. Tired of greedy bitches, snitches and fucking whores. I was tired of fighting with my woman. I was just plain fucking tired of it all.
I needed a moment to myself.
In order to find the peace I desired, I needed to locate Petrovitch and Graves and take them out of the equation, fast and efficiently. Mainly, I wanted their bodies at the bottom of the harbor as fish food.
My life wasn’t like most men. I didn’t get up every morning and work some nine-to-five job in some corporate industrial complex, losing my sanity one fucking day at a time.
Fuck that shit.
Life was meant to be lived, and I lived it on my own terms.
While the world was all about their political correctness, conspiracies and the need to make everyone feel included, I did what I wanted. Fuck everyone else. I didn’t give two shits about who I pissed off, offended or made to cry. They didn’t like me. I didn’t give a fuck. They weren’t living my life.
I made my own rules. Always had. Didn’t like them, then walk out the fucking door. I wasn’t here to hold anyone’s hand or mend their fucking delicate sensibilities.
Life was hard.
It was cutthroat and only the strong survived. The sooner they learned that, the better off they would be.
I knew early on that a normal life wasn’t for me. It wasn’t because my dad ran the Soulless Sinners. It wasn’t because I watched as people respected and feared my dad. No. It was because of a split-second decision I made that changed the outcome of not only my life, but the life of my brothers.
In that split second, I knew who I was, and I owned it.
I would never apologize for that.
Never.
If my brothers couldn’t understand that, then fuck them. I didn’t need them. I’ve survived the last twenty years without them by my side. It was no skin off my back.
After August ran his mouth, I gave up stopping Kansas from beating the hell out of the fucker. As far as I was concerned, August got what he deserved. In the end, Dad and the Rejects pulled Kansas off the prone fucker before he snapped his neck. I wouldn’t have cared if my baby brother had or not. He would have taken care of one of my problems for me. Instead, August was recovering and sleeping off his drunken stupidity in his room under lock and key. Kansas was once again refusing to speak to me, and my other brothers wanted my blood.
What else was new?
What I didn’t get was why Arizona and Dakota were angry? I got Kansas’ anger. He was in love with Amy. The fucking bitch lied and told him she was pregnant when she wasn’t. But the other two? That made no fucking sense.
Sitting on my bed in the clubhouse, I looked up when I heard a soft knock at the door. I should have known she would show up.
