No doubt now. This was a tail. The sport bikes screamed every time they hit the throttle. I’d started blowing through yellow lights, lucky that Tombstone was a small town with little traffic. Stopping wasn’t an option. Not if I wanted to keep breathing.
I could see the bikers in my side mirrors. Full-face, black helmets. No patches. No identifiers. Bulletproof vests tight against their chests. Ghosts on bikes.
A crack tore through the air. Not a firework. The biker on the left fired at my tires. I ducked, zigzagging in the middle of the street as more shots rang out.I won't make it past forty.
I’d stopped looking for death to find me. It was inevitable, but this was a fucking shitty way to go. Shot in the back. During a gunfight. In Tombstone. It was a coward’s way to die, but at least I wouldn’t be the only one going down.
I sent up apologies to Roxy and my family, in case there really was some higher power. I'd done what I could for them, leaving them enough money that they would never go without. It was the least I could do.
I had just accepted my fate when the two bikers made a U-turn, speeding off in the opposite direction.
Was that supposed to be a scare tactic?Were they afterme,or had they seen my patch? It didn’t matter. Message received. Loud and clear.
My stomach churned, fighting the urge to puke as I mounted the clubhouse’s front stairs, still processing what had happened on the road. The adrenaline still coursed through me, the line between rage and passion blurring with each step. I could hear the moans as soon as I opened the front door.
There’d been a time when I would have walked straight into the main room, picked whichever girl I wanted and fucked her until I had my fill, especially after dodging death. Now, there was only one woman who could light a fuse in me, and I wouldn't fuck it up for some cheap, meaningless thrills.
Leaning against the inside of the main door, I counted on the noises ending soon. I’d rally the troops, preparing for the battle that lay ahead. We hadn’t had a club meeting in months, and I had a better chance of corralling the brothers if they were in between rounds. They needed to know what we were up against.
High-pitched shrieks stabbed at my skull, each one pulsing behind my eyes. Sweat thickened the air, the stench so bad it would take days to forget. Every piece of furniture had a woman bent over it, an offering nobody had to earn. No one was going to clean up the mess. The brothers would bitch, finding questionable fluids. I used to lose myself in shit like this until there was nothing left but silence. Tonight was different.
The patch always drew women in. It didn’t matter what they looked like. There was always more, but we’d chased pussy over club protection. While I'd been swerving, dodging bullets, the brothers were ball-deep in distraction.
Aces had two women tied to the pool table. He rolled a billiard ball between their thighs, letting the smooth surface glide across their skin. They begged him for more, but he was busy giving the redhead between Eights’ legs pointers. “Dude’s not even moaning. You know how he likes it. Use your teeth.” The executive team was following its leader.
I scanned the room, looking for Scorpion. My president was busy with his own set of blondes. He was sitting in his corner of the couch, letting Blonde A bounce in his lap.
“I’m next,” Blonde B said, sitting next to him and rubbing her breasts in his face. “Come on, baby.” She shoved his hand between her legs as she rubbed her nipple against his lips. “I know what you like,” she moaned. It was all fake, but he didn’t call her out on it.
“Hey,” I said, my voice tight as I dropped onto the arm of the chair next to them. I’d prospected for loyalty. Brotherhood. Not this. We’d sold it all for pussy. “We need a club meeting tonight. Now.”
“I’m busy.” He continued to bite the blonde’s tits. She’d wear bruises in the morning like a badge of honor.
I wouldn’t talk club business in a room full of club bunnies. There could be spies, and it wasn’t worth the risk. “Put your dick away for a second and be the president.” I wasn’t spelling it out for him. I’d seen the signs. The bikes. Theclothing. It wasn’t a coincidence. “The wrist tattoos. The phoenix has risen.”
He pulled away from the blonde sitting next to him. “Don’t stop,” he said to the one riding his dick. “If you do, I’ll kick you out, and you’ll have to deal with the in-town dick.”
My gut twisted as he pointed to the corner, crooking his finger. He was calling someone over. I followed his line of sight, and my chest clenched. This had nothing to do with her, but she’d become Scorpion’s punchline. Eights had saved us the first time, letting me know to enter the clubhouse from the back. She wouldn’t get lucky twice. There was nowhere for me to run.
She strutted across the room, her high heels clicking against the wood floor. A skirt too tight. She dressed like the other women, but something about her seemed too good for this. A year ago—hell, six months ago—I would have flipped up her skirt, bending her over the arm of the couch without a second thought. Now, I wasn’t even hard. I’d outgrown casual sex.
“Don’t make her the butt of your joke. I’m not interested.” This was going to end badly for her. He wouldn’t listen, continually feeding her lies to keep her chasing. Scorpion wasn’t trying to win her. He was trying to get under my skin, so he’d have a reason to get rid of me.
“You need to get laid,” he said to me, smirking. “Delilah actually gives decent head.” The room laughed. This was exactly what I’d been trying to avoid.
“No,” I barked, but she tried to straddle my lap anyway. I stood, the shift in my legs bucking her off of me. She landed on the floor with a loud thump. Laughter cracked around the room, louder this time. She didn’t move, her arms crossed over her legs, as her eyes glistened. She never lowered her gaze, trying to let the room know this wasn’t affecting her as badly as they wanted it to.
“You alright?” I asked her, holding my hand out to help her up. The entire room had gone silent, watching this exchange. This wasn’t about Delilah. It wasn't about when Scorpion had tried to use her as a larger substitute for Roxy, or any of those other asinine things. This was about Scorpion reminding me of my place in the club.
She said nothing, eyes locked on mine. Delilah was another pawn in one of his games.
“He knows I’m not interested. He’s using you to fuck with me.” I left her where she was, heading towards my room.
“I’m thinking about having lunch at the saloon while you're gone. My dick might be diseased, but so is yours, considering where you’ve been.” He was talking about the girls at El Sombra Roja's warehouse. Roxy had just arrived, but I hadn’t accepted the cartel’s gift. No one knew that, but he’d do anything to fuck with her mind. She was another person who would unwillingly play his games.
“I’ve never gone against you as my president. I’ve always been a good soldier, but if you lie to Roxy, I’ll take your Butterfly away from you. You won’t be able to find them.” I turned to face the room. “That goes for all of you. Don’t fuckwith mine.” I strolled to my room, not giving them any sign of how much I was fucking fuming.
Chapter twenty-three
