A loud whistle sounds, and Vender leaps up onto the bar beside me, Mex doing the same on my other side a moment later.
“LISTEN UP!” Vender yells, and the violent shouts dull to a whisper. “There you go, Abs. You tell them how it is.”
I blush at Vender’s words, wanting to ask him to do it for me, but I need to do this. I need to help put an end to this since it mostly came about because of me.
“You need to stop fighting!” I call, trying to dig deep and remember the tips I got from having to get up in front of the class and talk at school. “Ringo challenged Smitty the right way according to your bylaws. The fight was fair, and Ringo won. He’s alive, and when he wakes, do you really want him to find the men he’s been fighting to protect at each other’s throats?”
A rumble of chatter floats through the crowd of men as they glance at each other, but their eyes still come back to me.
“I understand a lot of you are confused. I know losing Nate will be painful for many of you, but the club has rules for a reason, and according to them, your new President is Ringo. So stop being a bunch of babies, shake hands or hug it out, and then clean up this mess, because when Ringo comes to, he’s going to be the best damn President this club has ever had!”
“Damn right!” JD yells from the centre of the room.
“You fucking heard her!” Mex bellows. “Get this shit cleaned up!”
And just like that, the club brothers around the room start bro-hugging and smiling at each other like they weren’t just punching the living hell out of each other.
“My God, I don’t think I’ll ever understand the way you men think.”
Mex and Vender chuckle at my words before Vender leaps down, reaching up to help me down too.
As I weave back through the crowd, this time not fearing I’ll catch a stray fist, I get small smiles and nods from the men, and it warms my heart a little at how safe I feel despite the fact these are all very dangerous men.
Lewy is already working on patching up Ringo’s wounds, and JD and Jols are there on the floor beside him, staring down at my husband, who still isn’t moving.
A flutter of panic courses through me…
What if he doesn’t wake up? What if he’s slowly dying?
I start pacing, chewing on my thumbnail, too scared to move any closer to see if my husband is still alive.
Please don’t die. Please don’t die.
“He’s awake!” JD calls, and a sob escapes me, my knees buckling, but this time, it’s Casey and Darla who catch me.
“It’s okay, Abs.” Jols half laughs, half sobs as she turns to look up at me. “This fucker is hard to kill.”
We all giggle at that, and I find my feet again as Ringo’s groan meets my ears.
“Did I win?”
“Yes, you fucking crazy bastard!” JD laughs. “You won! Smitty is dead.”
I feel like I should be cheering, but the glee just never comes.
Smitty was the crazy one, that’s for sure, but his death doesn’t make me happy.
I don’t know if it’s because there’s been so much death already, or because I know what this means.
Not that I wanted my husband to die, not ever, but now… now he’s the ruler of this club. He’s the new President of the Southern Sadists.
It’s good for the club. But for me, not so much.
“Cameron Musgrove, otherwise known as Ringo, is our new President!” JD calls, and the sound of fists thumping over hearts fills the space.
Glancing around, I find the men all looking this way. Some wearing smiles. Others frown. A couple glare.
JD and Lewy shift in unison, helping Ringo sit up before lifting him to his feet, and he wavers on the spot for a moment, pressing his hand to his head.
