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“She was bleedin’, Hammerhead,” Deadbolt goes on. “I saw it myself.”
Hogwild and Jammer both slip off their barstools and make their way quietly out of the clubhouse. Which is fine. Not only did they not see what happened, I didn’t expect them to have my back in the first place. Their loyalty is to the club—to Hammerhead—and not to me. Or the Kings. I can’t fault them for not wanting to be part of this.
“Your boy is lying through his fucking teeth,” I say, my voice low and hard, then cast a glare at him. “And if he utters one more lie, I’m going to knock those teeth down his fucking throat. You got me?”
Deadbolt shrinks in on himself and takes a step back even though there’s a chest-high wooden bar between us. I turn back to Hammerhead who’s now standing just inches from me, the tip of his nose nearly touching mine, his disgusting breath washing over me.
I grimace in disgust. “Jesus, man. Step back or take an Altoid—”
“Shut the fuck up,” he snarls. “Now, I’m doin’ everythin’ you said to make sure this partnership stays afloat—”
“Good,” I say. “That’s good.”
“I’m even lettin’ you dictate how I run my clubhouse. I’m followin’ your rules,” he goes on. “But you fuck with my ol’ lady, and we’re about to have some serious fuckin’ problems. You ain’t supposed to look at her. You ain’t supposed to touch her. You ain’t even supposed to think about her. She’s my ol’ lady. She’s got nothin’ to do with you.”
I hold my hands up, palms out, in surrender. “You want to hear what really happened?” I ask. “Because the story your boy is telling you is about as real as the story he was telling us about fucking some nineteen-year-old debutante.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Deadbolt snaps. “He’s lyin’—”
Hammerhead rounds on him. “Shut your fuckin’ mouth,” he spits. “In fact, get the fuck out. I’ll deal with you later.”
Deadbolt opens his mouth to protest but Hammerhead holds up a finger and forestalls the argument he was about to make.
“I told you to get the fuck out.”
Glaring at me, but with a smug little smile curling his lips as if he thinks he got me in trouble and is reveling in it, he steps out from behind the bar and walks out. I’m sure he’s out there telling Jammer and Hogwild about how he stood up to me. He’ll probably tell him he knocked me out with one clean punch. Guys like him just don’t know when to stop. That’s all right though. I’ll get mine. I always do. For now, I’ve got to deal with the behemoth standing right in front of me.
I stand my ground and fold my arms over my chest. He looks at me with hatred in his eyes, his jowls jiggling with his impotent rage. I want to laugh but I’d rather not have this situation deteriorate any more than it already has.
“So?” he snarls. “Let’s hear what your version of the story is.”
“My version of the story happens to be the truth. And you can, as I’d expect, go verify it with Molly,” I tell him.
“Leave her the fuck out of this.”
“Fine. Whatever,” I snap. “She dropped some plates. I helped her clean them up. She cut herself and I patched her up. That’s it. No big deal.”
“I told you to stay away from her. She’s got social anxiety and doesn’t like being around new people,” he growls. “That’s why she doesn’t leave the clubhouse.”
I laugh. “She sure don’t seem like she’s got social anxiety, man.”
I’m tempted to ask if the real reason she doesn’t leave is because he’s essentially holding her hostage, but I bite my tongue. Getting in a verbal war right now isn’t going to do me any good, but it will do even less for Molly. Hammerhead is the kind of guy who will take out his frustrations on her—as I’ve seen. The last thing I want is for her to get hurt. She’s suffered enough as it is.
“She does if I say she does. She’s my old lady. Not yours,” he huffs. “And she falls outside our business arrangement. So, you keep your fuckin’ eyes and hands off her. You got me? Am I clear enough for you?”
I nod. It’s an unwritten rule within MCs that like our bikes, you do not mess with a man’s ol’ lady. Those relationships are sacred. Or they’re supposed to be. While I’ve never seen guys fuck with somebody else’s bike, I’ve definitely seen plenty of guys fucking with another man’s woman. But the point is taken. Whether I like it or not—and I don’t—Molly is Hammerhead’s ol’ lady. I don’t know how she got to be in that situation but that’s not my business. She’s not my business.
It just kills me, because I can see very clearly that she didn’t ask to be his ol’ lady. And she’s not being treated with the respect and love that’s supposed to come with the title. She doesn’t deserve to be in this situation, locked inside a clubhouse twenty-four hours a day, forced to service a man she obviously despises, and acting as slave labor. I hate it. I hate it for her. But Hammerhead is right. No matter my attraction to her, Molly is not my business, and she definitely falls outside the bounds of our partnership.
“Yeah, I got you,” I say quietly. “I get it.”
“Do you?” he presses. “Do you really get it?”
I raise my head and lock eyes with him, my own anger flaring as I stare into his face. I grit my teeth and narrow my eyes, doing my best to bite back my anger.
“Don’t you fuckin’ push me,” I growl. “Let me just remind you that you and the Howlers need this partnership a hell of a lot more than the Kings do. We can replace you in a heartbeat. You’d do well to remember that.”
And with that, I’m done with this conversation. I walk away from him and head for the room that’s been set up for me. I slam the door behind me and flop down onto the bed. As I stare up at the ceiling, Molly’s smile floats through my mind. I don’t know how she’s been able to keep that smile so bright and warm having to endure all she’s enduring. I’m curious as hell about her story and want to know more. I want to know everything.
