AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Take all the time ya need, brother—all the time.
When our VP doesn’t respond, I check to see if he’s left to deal with the fuckers. “Hey, Kai, you still out there?”
“Yeah.”
I push off the wall and tidy up the floor with a random rag. Big’s got bloodied nails scattered all over the place. Not wantin’ a brother to get one through the foot, I toss them into a rusty bucket that sits on an old milk crate in the corner. “You wanna swap me places in here? Keep an eye on Prez?”
“Keep an eye on wh—”
Not in the mood for questions, I cut him off. “Clean up his messes, keep Bink out, make sure he drinks water… shit like that.” Double checkin’ the place is half presentable, I skim over the shed, bypassing Big’s form and the fresh blood beneath our captive’s feet. It runs down his legs in rivulets, thanks to the small holes Big inflicted. Kai hasn’t been in here yet. Might as well give the man a good first impression. Torture has a way of making even the strongest men queasy. Let’s hope Kai’s military background has toughened his gut.
Satisfied with the presentation, I flip the eye-in-hook lock open and kick the door wide on its hinges for Kai to get his ass inside so I can handle the men in the basement. I gotta check on Niki anyhow, my favorite club whore. She’s in my room. Been there a while and is probably pissed at me for making her wait so long for dick.
Liftin’ my chin at Prez, I gesture to our VP. Not that Big’s payin’ a lick of attention. He’s too busy snarling at the hanging cunt. “Big, Kai’s gonna stay here. You get tired or need somethin’, ask him.” Bet he didn’t hear a damn thing I said.
I look at Kai. Gaze meets gaze, so he knows I mean business. This ain’t a joke or some immature game. “If he starts to act weird or anything, you call me or get him to bed. No matter what comes outta his mouth, youdon’ttake him home tonight. He can sleep in his bed in the clubhouse. Got it?” Almost all of us brothers got our own houses in the back half of our compound, plus rooms at the clubhouse. For you newbs, I’ll explain the finer details later. Ain’t got time for that now.
Kai glances around me to eye Big and frowns. “Can’t he make his own choices?”
What did I just say?
“No.” I lay a hand on Kai’s shoulder and squeeze, hopin’ to imbue some sorta brotherly wisdom. “You’ll learn this real quick. When Big gets in this mode…” I gesture to my best friend with a head tilt. “Where all he wants to do is kill, especially for his old lady, he’s gonna need to wind down. If not, he’ll worry her more by smotherin’ her, and she don’t need that.”
Sometimes you gotta handle our prez with kid gloves. Ya stand back and watch him do his thing, violent or otherwise, and clean up the mess when he’s through. Sometimes, you gotta step in and save him from himself. That’s what brothers do.
Kai offers a single nod. “What I gotta do, then?”
“You take him to his room without his phone. Make him drink water. Get him into the shower and wait for him to finish. Then put him to bed. Club whores are always sniffin’ ‘round, so you gotta post someone outside his door, or one’ll end up in his bed.”
One of Kai’s brows arches to his hairline. “Doesn’t his door lock?”
Smartass.
I punch him in the shoulder, my eyes rolling. “Yes, genius. But there are keys, and bitches have their ways of gettin’ what they want. You know how it goes.”
Pickin’ up what I’m puttin’ down, Kai nods again. “Yeah. Just didn’t think they’d be so stupid.” A hand drags through his long locks.
“They are.” All of ‘em wanna piece of Prez, even more so now that he’s with Bink. The behind-the-scenes club whore stories Niki tells me are hilarious. Big finds them amusing, too. We won’t tell Bink about ‘em, though. Don’t want her any more pissed than necessary.
“Right. Think I got it.”
“You’d better. Later.” Delivering a final thump to Kai’s shoulder, I exit the shed. It sits behind the brick clubhouse. Our treasurer, Blimp, is pissing in the blackened firepit as I pass by. We exchange chin lifts as I head to the only door out back—a steel-enforced fucker that opens into a rear hallway of the clubhouse where the bedrooms are.
Malcolm’s waitin’ on me inside, wearing his signature cowboy hat. The man used to be a drug dealer. Now he rolls with us. Sometime, in the next century, when Big gets over his snit, Mal will become a full-fledged brother. Until then, he’s our bitch.
“Lead the way.” I follow Mal through the halls lined with closed doors—each belonging to a brother. We’ve also got ourselves an infirmary and three offices—one for Big, one for our VP, and the other’s mine.
Passing Mickey, he lifts a hand in greeting as his shadow, Gypsy, carries two overflowing plates of food behind him. They’re probably going back to their bedroom for dinner. When we brought Malcolm on, we needed the extra space. Since they already housed together, sharing a room wasn’t a big deal. Mickey’s real fucked in the head. Got himself an eviler sexual deviant livin’ in that skull of his than I do. Gypsy’s his anchor. Been that way for years. That’s why we don’t make ‘em go anywhere without the other.
I greet them with a shallow nod as Malcolm reaches the far door that leads to the basement. Catching up, I gesture for him to stay here while I take my time descending the steps. Everythudof my boot heel hitting an old wooden step sends an omnipotent echo through the hellhole, alerting the prisoners of my presence. This ain’t a place you wanna be strung up.
In the center of the old, dimly lit room are two naked men. The twenty-something, skinny bastard has a bullet hole through his side that we didn’t bother stitching up. It still oozes blood. His eyes are closed, his body swaying on piss-covered feet. The ancient, fat fucker beside him stares straight at me. Those deep-set brown eyes shoot venom with little effort. There’s no doubt about it, this is the one who wanted to talk. His comrade’s too busy dying to ask for anything but a bullet through the brain to ease his passing.
I stop close enough to feel the surge of anger from the big, hairy asshole. He’s larger than me in both size and height. Got more hair than I do, too. Not that it takes much. I’m bald. My beard’s better, though. More kempt, less gangly. Not like any of that matters. I’m biding time, waiting for him to speak first. I’ve got all day.
Seconds twist into minutes as we stare the other down.
Bullet Boy moans in pain, and I crack a closed smile, chewing on my empty sucker stick.
