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“That’s one fine piece of ass,” Squirrel utters.
I whip my head in his direction and narrow my eyes to slits.
“Take a walk, brother,” Salem barks, and by the tone of his voice, it’s not a suggestion but an order.
The skinny little shit, Squirrel, looks clueless. He has no idea that Salem just saved his ass. I want nothing more than to put my fist through his teeth. Instead, I mask my building anger and turn on my heels, leaving my brothers and guests behind.
The fresh air hitting my face isn’t enough, so I take off toward my usual spot, plant my sorry ass on the bench, and fire up a joint, hoping the weed will take the edge off just a little. Something brushes against my leg. The clubhouse cat, Nimbus, rubs against me, then looks up at me.
“What the fuck am I doing, anyway?” I ask the damn cat.
He ignores me, then slinks across the yard toward the people, where he’ll snag some food scraps.
Sukie doesn’t belong to me. She sure as shit made that clear the other night after I crashed her date with that fuckwad.
I take a long drag from the joint. The smoke fills my lungs, and I hold it there before exhaling slowly, watching as it dissipates into the cool night air. After another toke, the rush hits, and a sense of calm washes over me.
For a long time, I sit underneath the tree, hidden in the shadows, watching everyone gather outside and fill their plates and bellies with food. It’s not long before they gather around a huge bonfire. Feeling mellow, I get up and join them, sitting in a lawn chair opposite the fire from where Sukie sits with Juniper. The entire time, I keep my eyes on Sukie, watching her laugh and smile while Mystic tells the story of when we stopped in the middle of nowhere during a long ass road trip and decided to rough it under the stars.
If you ever want to experience how dark a night can get, sleep on a blanket in the Arizona desert. I chuckle when he gets to the part where he ran out of toilet paper, wiped his ass with one of his socks, and then stepped in his shit. We didn’t let him live it down for some time.
Sukie stands and says something to Sage, who is sitting on Salem’s lap. Sukie walks away, disappearing into the clubhouse. I focus on the open clubhouse doors, waiting for her to return. After several minutes, she doesn’t. I scan the yard, counting heads, and realize I don’t see Squirrel anywhere, and his absence doesn’t sit right with me. I get up and walk across the yard. When I step into the clubhouse, I see Squirrel’s back. He has Sukie boxed in against the bar.
“Come on, sweet thing. I’ll be more than happy to give you what you need.” Squirrel slurs his words.
I charge toward them, ready to murder the stupid motherfucker with the balls to fuck with what’s mine.
“Get off me!” Sukie’s voice is full of panic.
I fist Squirrel’s hair, wrenching his body away from Sukie, and drag him backward.
“What the fuck?” he shouts, pulling at my hands, trying to free himself.
I toss him out the door. The son of a bitch loses his footing and tumbles to the ground, landing hard on his knees. Before he can stand, I ram the toe of my boot into his ribcage, causing the fucker to double over.
“What the hell is goin’ on?” Wolf’s voice carries as he stomps across the yard, a slew of bikers heading in the same direction.
I pick the bastard off the ground, unfazed by his President’s approach, and slam my fist into his face.
“Salem, get your man before I lay hands on him,” Wolf warns.
I don’t take kindly to his threat. Dropping Squirrel, I focus on Wolf.
“Stand down, Harlem,” Salem warns, stepping in front of me.
I breathe heavily through my nose, clenching my fists at my side.
“You son of a bitch.” Squirrel spits blood on the ground and wipes his mouth with his hand.
Sukie steps outside into the thick of things. “I’m okay. It was…” She takes a deep breath, visibly shaken. “It was a misunderstanding; that’s all.” Her voice trembles as she downplays what happened.
“The motherfucker put hands on my woman.” My chest heaves. I don’t miss the gasp from Sukie’s mouth at my declaration.
“This true?” Wolf asks his man.
“She ain’t wearin’ a brother’s name, and I haven’t heard no man here declaring otherwise.” Squirrel coughs, holding his side, trying to catch his breath.
“She. Is. Mine,” I declare in front of everyone.
