“Oh God!” I bang repeatedly on the steel door as my gaze shifts left to right on the street.
My heart beats a thousand miles a minute as I wait for someone to come to the door. Tears continuously trickle down my face and cause my vision to become blurry. But my hand bangs on the door, desperate for someone to help me. I almost fall when the door suddenly opens, and I’m met with hard eyes and a deep snarl.
“Shit! Yo, Righteous,” the man says and looks over his shoulder.
His distraction is my access as I push through the door, and my eyes bounce left to right in search of my man. The minute Righteous’s tall frame comes into view, I run and jump into his arms before a loud sob from my diaphragm echoes around the room. All conversation ceases, but all I can do is hold ontoRighteous and pray that he doesn’t let me go. I guess the threat was real. God, help me!
I finally got Jariyah to fall asleep, and now I want to fuck some shit up. Jariyah not only told me about the people following her, but also about the people who tried to ram her vehicle and then she mentioned the discussion she overheard from her mother about her plans for Baxtown Iron. The back-to-back shots I’ve had don’t settle the fire in my blood or the murder on my mind. While there’s little that can be done about the mayor’s attempt to shut down our clubhouse, I have to do something about Midnight Eagles. I have no doubt that they were the stupid mothafuckas bold enough to come after my woman.
“Are you calm now, bro?” Boston asks.
“Fuck no! It took me thirty minutes to get Jariyah to stop crying. Then another twenty for her body to settle from jumpingas she whimpered like a frightened kitten.” The reminder has me ready to spit fire.
I can handle the Midnight Eagles, but going up against the mother of my woman is a whole other level of finesse against a tricky adversary. I’m happy that Jariyah is invested enough in our relationship that she let me know what’s on the horizon. But damn if I didn’t have to swallow the words I wanted to say. It would have been less painful to cut my tongue out than to not call Mayor Owens a cockeyed bitch who needs to rub her pussy on a cheese grater. But keeping my thoughts to myself is best to avoid being in Jariyah’s doghouse.
Loud voices snap me out of my thoughts, and I turn to see the members walking through the door. Nothing is going on at the clubhouse today, which is why the door was locked when Jariyah got here. However, the double threat prompted Diesel to call for a full-body church meeting. The sight of Squeak’s frown beside a sleepy-looking Deacon lets me know that Diesel had disturbed their sleep.
“What the fuck is going on that we had to get up from our bomb ass dream fuck session?” Deacon grumbles.
“Blame your cousin and the woman his ass refuses to let go.” Shadow smirks.
My eyes drill into Shadow, and my hands ball into fists before I speak. The last thing I have time for is Shadow’s jokes and bullshit when the urge to rearrange someone’s face clouds my vision.
“Don’t make me fuck you up, bro. My hands are already itching to school a mothafucka on how not to come for what’s mine.”
“Now that everybody is here, let’s call church to order.” Diesel’s voice bounces around the walls before Shadow can reply.
I hop up on the bar with my eyes on Diesel and Gunz, who make their way to the center of the room. The meeting is called to order, and Diesel takes a few minutes to tell everyone about both situations as he knows them from me. It pisses me off even more to make him and Gunz aware of what Jariyah told me simply because of their resistance to her presence. I know that it will only feed into their need for Jariyah to be far away from the clubhouse. But at this point, it’s too late for that shit.
There’s no way I’m going to subject my woman to the lion’s den. Either they can get with the program, or I’ll walk away from here with my lady in tow.
“I see the murder in your eyes, Righteous. Just so you know, I’m on whatever time you’re on. It’s family over everything,” Deacon says.
Before I heard his voice, I tuned Gunz out because the information wasn’t new to me, and I didn’t need to digest it again.
“Now hold up, bro,” Gunz says before Deacon speaks again.
“Nah. I said what I said. What I ain’t about to let go down is my cousin feeling like he’s on a solo mission,” Deacon says.
Various voices speak either their concerns or their rebuttals about the club going to war with two entities, and it all pisses me off. Before I can catch myself, words leave my mouth again.
“Look, every mothafucka in this room who wants an old lady has one. That’s fine for me and doesn’t make me shit one way or another. But if y’all think I’m going to let my woman be on her own with any of this shit, you’ve got another thing coming. Jariyah Owens is my woman, and she’ll be under my protection, no matter what. Either y’all can get with the program, or I can wake her up and bounce.”
“Before you do that, with your dramatic ass, let’s bring it to a vote,” Shadow says before he shakes his head as he smirks.
Shadow’s playful ass is our enforcer, so I understand his need to attempt to bring some order to this meeting. But my word is my bond, and I stand on everything I said. Either I’m gonna continue as a member of Baxtown Iron or I won’t. It’s as simple as that.
“All in favor of putting Jariyah under Baxtown Iron protection, do so with a show of hands,” Diesel says.
I hang my head so as not to react or show any later animosity to anyone who votes against Jariyah’s protection. My damn chest feels tight as pain radiates across it. I have never been in this position, and the shit is uncomfortable as hell. One thing is for sure though. No matter how the club moves forward, Jariyah will be under my protection, and that is all she’ll ever need. Whether my brother backs me or not, I will die trying to keep my woman safe.
“Alright, I’m glad you mothafuckas picked the right side, or I was gonna be walking out with my cousin.” Deacon’s hard voice causes me to lift my head and lock eyes with Smoke.
The subtle nod he gives me not only settles me immediately but it makes my pride surge.
“Nigga, we ain’t letting you or your emotional ass cousin leave the club. Clearly, you fuck niggas forgot how we’re coming behind our family,” Gunz says, which causes a boisterous charge to echo around the room.
“Blood In, Death Out.” My brothers chant our mantra.
