“The fuck he isn’t!”
“Everyone out!” I roared. “Kronos and Zeus, stay. The rest of you, get the fuck out now.”
“Not leaving,” Cash growled, standing firm in front of Ravage.
“Me neither,” Nav firmly stated, as he remained seated. He rolled his eyes at Ravage. When the door closed, I turned, pushed Cash out of the way, and slammed Ravage up against the wall.
“Reaper is looking for you! Do you know the shitstorm you created? Where the fuck have you been?”
Narrowing his eyes at me, Ravage grinned. “Reaper can get fucked.”
“Big words from a brother who wears the same fucking patch.”
“Yeah, well, allegiances change all the time.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I snarled.
“My club outed me. The underworld knows who I am!” he roared, pushing me away from him.
Shaking my head, I frowned. “Reaper didn’t out shit. No one knows who you are.”
“Bullshit!” Ravage snapped. “Then why is there a bounty on my head? Why are the Death Dogs hunting my woman?”
I heard Nav growl, “Fuck,” as he opened his computer and reached for his phone, placing a call before he started typing.
Hearing the ringing tone, Ravage glared at me. I stood my ground, glaring right back at the little shit, when we all heard Cerberus say, “He there?”
“Yeah,” Nav groaned, typing fast into his computer. “Just strolled in. What the fuck is going on?”
“Nothing for you to worry about. You just make sure he stays there. A package should be arriving shortly for him. You tell that fucking dick of a president of yours that if he knows what’s good for him, he better sit on the two of them until this shit gets sorted out.”
“That’s going to be a problem,” Nav clearly said, looking at Ravage.
“Then fix it!” Cerberus snarled before the line disconnected.
“Fix what?” Ravage seethed, taking a step toward Nav, who turned his computer around so we could see the screen. “This.”
There in black and white was my little brother, along with a dollar amount. One million dollars to the person, club or organization that apprehended or killed Jackson ‘Ravage’ Baudelaire, son of Morpheus, president of the Brotherhood of Bastards MC.
“Holy shit,” I cursed, raking my hands through my hair as I asked, “Has Reaper seen that?” Before anyone could answer, my phone rang. Reaching for it, I looked at the screen and groaned, holding up my phone for Ravage to see.
It was Reaper.
Connecting the call, I placed the phone on the table and pulled out a chair. “I take it you saw?”
“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Reaper roared, just as something crashed against the wall. “When I find the motherfucker whoouted my brother, I’m going to fucking gut him from asshole to pie hole!”
“Boss, Sypher ain’t picking up,” Massacre said in the background, and Ravage stiffened.
He grabbed my phone and snarled, “Who the fuck was that?”
“Oh!” Reaper scoffed. “Now you want to talk to me, asshole?”
“Who was that?” he asked again, his body shaking with barely controlled rage.
“It’s Massacre,” I offered, looking up at Ravage. “He didn’t die in the warehouse. He’s back in California with Amber and the rest of the Golden Skulls.”
“WHERE YOUR ASS SHOULD BE!” Reaper shouted, then took a deep breath. “I can’t deal with you right now. I’ve got a missing old lady and shit in Oklahoma to handle. You deal with him, King.”
