“I follow my prez, that’s what,” Pipes said breathlessly, blood spilling out over his chin. “His orders are the only orders.”
“Nah, that’s not how it works, not in my club,” I spat the words at him. “Brothers for life,” I started.
“And my life for my brothers,” Casa, Dom and Rider finished for me.
Hardy laughed bitterly in the background and I swung the butt of my gun at his head opening up a wound that started to pump blood straight away. “Shut the fuck up!”
I nodded to Casa and Dom stepped back, letting Pipes fall backwards. Casa aimed at Pipe’s forehead and fired, and Pipe’s blood pooled under him, spilling out and tainting the quarry ground red with blood.
I looked back at Hardy and let out a heavy sigh before standing upright again. Casa, Dom, and Rider were waiting for me to do something, anything, but the moment felt like it was more than just me. Bigger somehow. Like my whole life had been leading up to that moment.
“Want me to do it?” Rider asked as he came to stand by my side. “Be my fuckin’ pleasure, too, Jesse.”
I turned and looked at him, my gaze going to his arm. “Fucked you up real bad, brother.”
“Ain’t nothin’ that a couple of beers won’t fix,” he growled out, but both of us knew that weren’t true. His arm was hanging limply by his side. Casa had tied some material around the top of it to stop the blood, but if there was nerve damage he’d never ride again.
I patted him on the opposite shoulder. “I got this one.” I turned back to Hardy, his glare burning holes in my skull. “Now now, Prez, no point looking like you just got wrongly shot the fuck up. This is all your own doing. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure it’s over and done with quick enough.”
Dom lit up a cigarette, and fuck me if I didn’t wish I still smoked. Laney had asked me to quit, so I had, but fuck it, if there was ever a time to start up again, it was now.
I nodded to Dom. “Gimme one of those.”
He nodded and handed me his before lighting another for himself, and I took a long drag on it, feeling light-headed as the nicotine hit me. Goddamn, that was good—not as good as other shit, but I’d missed smoking. Probably the only good thing about being single again.
“What the fuck are you waiting for, son? You waiting for me to beg? You think I’m gonna break down and plead you for my life? Fuck you, that ain’t never gonna happen. If I was on fire I wouldn’t beg you to piss on me and put out the flames,” Hardy snarled out.
I barked out a laugh, a calm settling over me that scared me more than it should have. I wasn’t a believer in God, or any other higher power, but it felt to me like Butch was right there with me—standing by my side and aiming his own gun at our father.
‘Son? That’s a joke,’ he laughed with me.
I smiled. “Firstly, don’t call me son. You’ve never treated me like one, so let’s not go throwing names around that we don’t mean,” I said, staring down at him, a strength I’d never felt before alive in my muscles. In every fiber of my body.
“You’re right, you ain’t never been a son of mine. Bastard boy of a crack-whore. Never a truer word spoken there, Jesse.” He laughed without humor, but fuck me if he didn’t have my attention now.
“Secondly,” I continued, because fuck him; I wouldn’t give him that power over me. Not anymore. “If you was on fire, I wouldn’t piss on you anyway, not even if you begged me, so you don’t need to worry about that,” I said, using his own words against him.
We glared at one another, and I threw my cigarette on the ground and put it out under my boot. Then I aimed my gun at his head.
“And thirdly, don’t ever call my mom a whore!” I bellowed.
Butch clicked off the safety on his gun and looked at me with a smirk. ‘You ready, little brother?’
I nodded in response, knowing I was either going insane or I had one foot in the grave already because I could feel the heat from Butch right next to me. The anger pouring from him in waves.
“All right, enough fucking around.” I flicked off the safety on my gun.
Hardy lifted his chin. “You don’t even care, do you?”
“Care?” I snapped. “Why the fuck should I care? After everything you’ve done, everything you’ve put your club through, your own sons. No, I don’t care. I don’t care at all.”
“I meant, you dumb fucking bastard, you don’t even care that you got him killed.”
Dom was too quick for me to stop as he dove at Hardy, slamming his fist into his face over and over until Casa managed to drag him back off. And the whole time Butch laughed from next to me.
Casa let go of Dom and dragged Hardy back up to his knees. Hardy spat blood on the ground in front of him. “Always had a good right hook. Would have made a good sergeant at arms one day.” Hardy rubbed his jaw, and Dom looked like he was about to dive at him again and punch a hole right through his fucking face. “Shame you’re too weak to stand as one.”
“Yougot him killed! No one else, just you,” Dom roared in anger. “And I would never stand under you, so go fuck yourself!” Dom kicked out, slamming his boot into Hardy’s ribs repeatedly, and I could have sworn I heard the snapping of bones. But I got it. I did—that same anger had been my driving force since Butch died, fucking up my life on every level. But not anymore. I saw all too clearly now exactly what I needed to do.
