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“Sorry, babe, but that bitch, once she answers my questions, is going to be disappearing,” I inform her, knowing she knows exactly what I’m talking about. The women from the Franklin Charter, just like the other charters, aren’t stupid by any means. Some of them even get in on the act, if I’m not mistaken. Hammer’s niece, Ally, lost her shit on one woman. I don’t know much about what the others did besides giving bitches ass kickings when they deserve it. I believe Hades’s ol’ lady did something involving her dragging a clubwhore by her hair while in a towel.
I switch my focus back to Hammer. “You good with that?”
“Long as there’s no blowback on the club, I give two shits about the bitch and her leaving here breathing.”
“May I make a suggestion?” Ally asks, speaking up from where she stands in the crook of Burner’s arm.
“Firefly,” Burner mutters with a groan.
“What’s your suggestion, sweetheart?” Hammer asks, keeping his voice soft while speaking to her. It may have been years since he got his niece back, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t remember the state they got her back in.
“Let me have at her.”
“Not gonna happen.” Burner grunts, not letting her finish.
“Appreciate the suggestion, Ally, but I’ve got this. I don’t mind getting a bitch’s blood on my hands. Not when she can do what I’ve got a feeling she’s been doing,” I inform her.
“Well, the offer’s there.” Ally nods.
“That’s where it’s going to stay,” Burner mutters visibly tightening his arms around Ally as she rolls her eyes.
Giving my Prez and VP a jerk of my chin, I head toward the exit, feeling Rogue right behind me. I don’t have to look to know the rest of my brothers are behind him.
Honor means something to each and every member of this club. She’s family to them but everything to me.
For Honor, I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure nothing happens to her again. It’s why I have no problem drawing a woman’s blood if it means her safety.
* * *
“Quit wasting my fuckin’ time,” I snarl, spit spewing from my lips, my fingers wrapped around the cunt’s throat.
“Brother, you got to let her go in order for her to talk,” Rogue says, hand on my shoulder.
Slowly, I release my grip on the clubwhore’s throat. “Start talking before I choke the life out of you.”
“I . . . I . . .”
“He said talk, bitch,” Gunner growls.
“I was told about everything while in town with Frenchy a couple of days ago,” she rambles. “They came up to me and Frenchy. She didn’t want anything to do with them, walked away and left me there. I listened, and they . . . they offered to pay me. I . . . they . . . well, they wanted to toy with her. They found out what happened to her, about how she slit her wrists, they told me. Said fuck with her head, make her leave the clubhouse. One of them wanted to play with her some more . . . said she was fun.”
My blood boils with each word that comes out of the bitch’s mouth.
“I figured without her in the way, I’d get my chance. Frenchy and the others, they’d said how good . . . you know. Well, they were pissed when you turned them away and made it known you weren’t having it. If we got her gone, you’d be back to using us.”
“They pay you yet?” I ask, stepping back into her space and curling my fingers back around her throat.
“Y-yes,” she stammers.
“How much?” I squeeze just a little tighter.
“Two thousand dollars.”
“So, you’re willing to chance your life on two thousand dollars,” Hammer snaps, coming forward.
For the most part, he’d stayed silent while I handled this situation alongside Gunner and Rogue.
“I didn’t think you —”
