Jesus, what did he want me to be, a martyr that killed them and did so by going back in time?
“I couldn’t have,” I said. “It was me against all of them. I was the only one who didn’t want to do anything to her.”
“How fucking convenient.”
“Mason,” Cole warned. “That’s enough. We talked about this.”
“We didn’t talk about how much of a fucking liar this guy would be.”
I shook my head. I tried to tell myself this would be like practice if I ever got close to one of the King’s Men, but I knew better than that. The King’s Men would just torture and attack me. They wouldn’t be dancing around the subject like this.
“I will say it once and then I’m done. I am sorry for what happened to your girl. I did not want anything to do with it. I did not have anything to do with it. But I could not have fucking stopped it. It’s like getting mad at a single American for not stopping Afghanistan or Iraq. OK? It’s fucking madness.”
“Don’t tell me what fucking madness is!”
But I’d said my bit. I said nothing more.
“Don’t you dare fucking ignore me, Spawn.”
Ego told me to strike back, tell him to shut the fuck up, maybe even fight him. But club harmony told me to stand up and walk outside so Cole could handle him. So that’s what I did.
Right up to the point that I turned just in time to see Mason tackling me against the bar top. I kicked him away, giving me space, and I snorted in his face.
“I said I’d say it once and I’d be done,” I growled. “Didn’t fucking mean I wouldn’t kick your ass if you came after me.”
Mason charged. Better prepared this time, I turned to the side as he slammed into the bar. I delivered a hard blow to his back, grabbed him by the jacket, and spun him around. I punched, but he dodged it and kicked me hard in the gut, knocking me over.
“What the fuck are you guys doing?” I heard Cole yelling, but that was all background noise.
A fight had started that I was involved in. I was going until Mason was dead or until it was very clear he wasn’t fighting anymore.
I stood up just in time to block his punch, which I countered with a punch of my own. I briefly heard the doors to church swinging open, and suddenly, Brock and Lane had their arms around Mason. But so, too, did Satan and Sonny have their arms around me.
“You two wanna fight like fucking kids, take it outside!” Satan said.
“We cannot be having this shit!” Sonny said. “Now, more than ever—”
“Come on, pussy, you started this; let’s fucking finish it,” I said, ignoring the protesting shouts.
I could feel Sonny sink behind me. If he’d come out before the fight, sure. Too late now.
I went outside into the parking lot, turning around just as Mason emerged. The other four stood on the perimeter, forming a sort of boundary that we would not cross while we took out our anger. I could see them talking, but I didn’t hear a fucking word they said. And even if I could, I sure as shit wouldn’t be listening closely.
Mason and I walked to each other. I threw the first punch. Mason ducked and tackled me to the ground. He got in a strong punch to the face that left me dazed and blurry eyed. I had enough sense to buck my hips up and knock him off, but my vision was still blurry even as I moved in. I punched him in the face, but he also knocked me off. The two of us rose, and I saw a chance. I came after him and tackled him to the ground. I mounted and punched.
And then Mason slammed his fist into my gut, doubling me over. He rolled over me, punched me some, and got one good lick in the face before I got him off, kicked him away, and made space.
In just that short period of time, both of us were bleeding badly. Mason’s face was already swelling, and blood dripped from my chin and my forehead.
“You fucking idiot,” I cursed at him. “You want to fight me because I wasoncea Bandit? And now I’m on your side? Some work you’re doing.”
“You didn’t fucking stop it!”
“Yeah, and there’s not a goddamn thing I can do now!”
I couldn’t fucking say why, but of all fucking things, that seemed to be the thing that finally got Mason to pause and step back. I caught my breath, but I was careful not to lose my edge—if I did that, I worried I’d at least fall to a knee from exhaustion and pain.
“I didn’t fucking rape her,” I said. “I’m sorry that happened. I stopped partaking in Bandit activities after that. But I’m not sorry for who I am. I’m the goddamn sergeant-at-arms of the Devil’s Patriots, and I am not taking shit from anyone. Most especially someone who is attacking me at a time when we should be allies.”
