When we first moved to town, we were met with a lot of resistance. I got it; a club full of outlaw bikers wasn’t what good, religious folk wanted on their doorstep, but we all had to co-exist, so the men worked hard to be respectful, help out when they could, and donate to the town.
It was working too. The locals’ suspicion of us was fading, and we were welcomed in the stores, coffee shops, and eateries now, but we still had a way to go. We needed this bullshit like we needed a hole in the head.
Castle’s lips thinned angrily. “I’ll ask Hank Young to come in for a meet. We’ll explain a few things and get him to talk to a few key members of the community. As long as we keep things on the down-low, we can control the narrative without Huntley knowin’. We can also ask the townsfolk to keep a record of all the bullshit comin’ from law enforcement. Help us keep our fingers on the pulse and our heads in the game.”
I nodded, turning to Nox. “Call Roxanne. Tell her I need to talk.”
His face flushed red. “Can’t. She’s not talkin’ to me.”
Groans went up around the table, and Rodeo muttered, “Not again.”
“What the fuck did you do this time?” I demanded.
“She walked in when Saskia was givin’ me head,” he said sheepishly.
Wiki looked confused. “But Roxie’s not your ol’ lady. What does she care?”
“For fuck’s sake,” Castle grated out. “You assholes have lived the biker life for too long. Nice girls don’t wanna walk in on the man they’re seein’, gettin’ head from a bitch like Saskia. Roxie’s not a club girl, and she didn’t sign up for that bullshit. Civilian girls date to get married and push a couple of kids out.”
“I’m single,” Nox said defensively. “I can do what I want.”
Castle shrugged. “No skin off my fuckin’ nose. Roxie’s our best dancer and a ten outta ten. Won’t take her long to meet someone who treats her the way she wants. If you don’t wanna keep your dick in your pants, cut her loose.”
“Don’t wanna cut her loose,” he clapped back. “I like her, but I don’t want an ol’ lady yet. I wanna do my own thing.”
“Then keep doin’ what you’re doin’, and you’ll get all the space you need. But don’t whine to me when she cans your ass for good. There’s only so much shit a girl like Roxie will take.” Veep shook his head, his lips thinning as his stare rested on me. “And how was your date last night?”
My head reared back. “What the fuck do you think this is? The fuckin’Bachelor? You think my relationship is fodder for the goddamned masses?”
“Just askin’,” he returned. “Not like you to be absent from the club when there’s shit goin’ down.”
“I was five hours away when Boot called,” I argued. “Hardly a thirty-minute ride to the next town; plus, the roads were treacherous.”
“I get it,” he acquiesced. “And it got handled.”
My eyes narrowed on my VP, while my mind went over his words.
Castle knew exactly what to say to get under my skin. Letting the club and my brothers down were my biggest insecurities, and that fucker had scored a bullseye with his little dig. The more I argued with him, the more he’d know he’d gotten to me, so instead, I changed the subject.
I sat up straight before clapping my hands and rubbing them together gleefully. “Right then, boys. I think it’s time to go have a little chat with Junior. Who’s ready for some fun?”
Grins flashed, and a ripple of excitement went through the room along with a “Fuck yeah,” from Bootneck, who summed up how every man at the table felt when he grinned gleefully and crowed, “Time to bloody our knuckles.”
—————
The cave wasan eight-by-eight-meter room with concrete walls and a floor that dipped into a concave. It was designed that way to allow for blood to trickle down and escape when we hosed the place after we’d pulled some asshole in to be dealt with.
One lightbulb hung from the ceiling, where directly underneath, Junior Huntley sat bloody and beaten while strapped to a metal chair under the eerie light.
He was naked except for his underwear, which wasn’t in good shape, and his chest—overly muscular from too many ’roids—heaved as he stared up at me with one eye swollen shut.
“My dad’s gonna fuck you up,” he spat, failing to curl his lip through the swelling around his weak-assed jaw.
I stared disdainfully at the dried blood that had collected at the corners of his mouth before pulling my arm back and landing a punch across his temple.
The little pervert’s head snapped to the side, and he let out a loudyowl.
I pulled my Glock from my cut and in one smooth motion, clicked off the safety before butting the muzzle against his temple. “You got somethin’ else to say to me, motherfucker?”
