“You okay?” Ironside asked.

 

“Yeah,” Peyton replied.

 

“You need to get out while you can.”

 

“I haven’t found out where they’re keeping Melissa. I can’t leave, not yet.”

 

“Peyton, listen to me,” Ironside said gently. Since Peyton came to them with the news of the attack, she looked more and more defeated every time he saw her. “You need to face the fact you may not be able to save her.”

 

“I have to save her!”

 

He admired her loyalty. “You’ve had four weeks to find her. Maybe she can’t be found.”

 

“I can’t give up!” she cried. “I’ve been out at night, driving around where they run their girls. I haven’t seen her, but she has to be there.”

 

“Or she’s dead,” Ironside said softly.

 

“I can’t – won’t – believe that. Not yet.”

 

“What have you got for us?” Whiteshirt asked softly. He appreciated her loyalty, and the danger she was in while pumping the Saracens for information then coming to them like this, but he still didn’t fully trust her. She had passed some good intel to them, and they’d used it to screw the Saracens every chance they got, but she hadn’t given them anything that was a true knockout punch.

 

So far they’d passed an anonymous tip to the cops about a major drug shipment that resulted in a bust that made the front page of all the papers. They’d also arranged a shipment of guns to be “lost” on the docks. That was his favorite move so far. The thought of the frustrations the Saracens must be feeling while battling the red-tape, knowing their guns were somewhere on the docks but unable to get their hands on them, made him smile every time he thought about it. Because the docks were in Knights’ territory, they couldn’t even send a representative to look for them and had to do everything over the phone. The first, and last, member they sent to try to cut through the red tape didn’t return home.

 

Not everything had gone their way. The Saracens were becoming more and more violent as their frustrations grew. They’d shot up one of their strip clubs, killing twelve, nine of their girls and the three brothers who functioned as bouncers. Whiteshirt had pressed her on why she hadn’t told them until Ironside intervened on her behalf.

 

Ironside was right that she could only report what she heard, but it was clear to him that he was becoming protective of her. He wanted to trust her, but he was wary after she failed to report the hit that had cost the lives of their brothers and girls.

 

“Pogo hinted that the cartel was leaning on them.”

 

“Why?” Dolch asked.

 

“I don’t know exactly. I think it’s a drugs for guns kind of thing. The cartel delivered, but the Saracens haven’t. I’m guessing the guns were payment for the shipment I told you about. Losing the load of drugs to the cops probably didn’t make them popular either.”

 

“Do they know we’re the ones holding up the guns?”

 

“I don’t think so. I know Pogo and Andrew are both pissed at the union.”

 

Whiteshirt smiled. Their instructions to the union had been simple. Stall as long as possible, then let the guns go. He had no idea they could tie the guns up for almost three weeks, but he loved every day of it. “How does that help us?”

 

She shrugged. “I’m just reporting what I hear.”

 

“If we can keep fucking up their deals with the cartel, they may solve our problem for us,” Ironside pointed out.

 

“Wouldn’t that be great?” Dolch muttered. “Have them out of way and not having to get our hands bloody to do it.”

 

“Anything else?”

 

“No. I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up. Andrew is becoming paranoid.”

 

“That’s why you need to come in,” Ironside pointed out.

 

“I have to find Melissa.”

 

“You can’t help her if you’re dead.”

 

“Is there nothing you can do to help?” she pleaded.

 

Ironside looked to his Vice President and Sergeant at Arms. Whiteshirt shook his head and Dolch gave him a small shrug. “I’m sorry. You’re our only source of information. I wish we could help. You’ve earned it.”

 

“Just keep your promise.”

 

“We will. You have my word.”

 

Peyton nodded and rose to her feet. “Do you mind if I grab a beer before I leave?”

 

Ironside snorted as he grinned. “Help yourself.”

 

They walked to the bar and he pulled two beers, handing her one and keeping the other for himself.

 

They settled into a pair of chairs. “I’m beginning to worry about you,” he said, taking a sip of his beer.

 

She smiled. “It’s okay for now. I’m stroking Andrew’s cock and ego at the same time. He thinks he’s a fucking God, and by that I mean a God at fucking.”

 

He grinned. “Is he? I heard he has a little dick.”

 

She grinned. “I used to think he did okay, but then I got a taste of what a real fucking God was like.”

 

“Anybody I know?”

 

She giggled. “You might. He’s got his really awesome car that he won’t give me a ride in, but the other rides he given me?” She paused as she fanned her face.

 

“You have a lot of nerve coming here,” Honey snarled as she approached.

 

“Hey, Honey! How’s the face?”

 

“You want to go again? Just say the word.”

 

Ironside rolled his eyes. “Honey, just shut the fuck up.” In the last month, he’d fucked a several of other club girls in addition to Honey, trying to find the spark he felt with Peyton. It had royally pissed her off and she’d become snarly with the other girls, not that he cared. It was up to the girls to take care of themselves, until it got out of hand. This was the first time Honey had been around at the same time as Peyton since she’d gone underground, and she obviously was harboring a grudge.

 

“I’m not going to stand around and watch while you stick your cock in this Saracens bitch!”

 

He rose from his chair. “Who I stick my cock into is none of your business,” he growled, stepping in close, his voice low and threating.

 

Peyton smiled at her.

 

“Come on, you bitch, you fucking whore! Let’s settle this, just the two of us!” Honey challenged. “I’ll fucking take you apart!”

 

“Like you did the last time?”

 

“You got lucky!”

 

“Knock it off!” he snapped, staring at Honey.

 

“Fine!” Peyton said at the same time, rising to her feet.

 

“Sit down,” he barked, pointing at the chair.

 

“She’s calling me out. If she wants to get her ass kicked in front of her whole club, I can make it happen.”

 

Honey started to charge in, but Ironside caught her and shoved her hard back. “I said knock it off!”

 

“You’re taking that Saracens bitch’s side over mine, over a member of your own club?” she cried.

 

“Let her come,” Peyton said softly. She was tired of laying on her back, tired of getting fucked, tired of having to take everything that came her way like a good club girl. She was tired of pretending she enjoyed their little cocks and fat asses. If Honey wanted to go, she would enjoy kicking the shit out of her, taking all her rage and frustrations out on that big-titted bitch.

 

“You don’t have anything to prove.”

 

“I think I do,” Peyton replied. “I’ve done more for this club than this bitch ever has, and I’m tired of her mouth.”

 

He turned Honey loose. “The pit,” he growled. “Five minutes.”

 

Honey smiled. “After I kick this bitch’s ass, I’m going to fuck you while this whore watches. You like an audience, right?” Honey smiled again, then pulled his mouth down and kissed him passionately until he pushed her away. She glared at him. “So that’s how it is? She gets a lucky shot, and you throw me out on my ass? I’d have taken her if you hadn’t stopped it the last time.”

 

“Keep telling yourself that. Someday you might even believe it,” Peyton smiled

 

“Don’t stop us,” Honey sneered. “Give me my chance. Promise me you won’t stop us until one of us gives up or is unconscious.”

 

“It’s your ass,” Peyton added helpfully.

 

“Will that shut you up about her?”

 

“Yes, Babe. I just want my shot.”

 

He nodded. “You’ve got it. Nobody will interfere.”

 

Honey smiled. “I’ll show you, Babe. I’ll show you,” she said as she turned and walked away, giving her hips extra swing.

 

“The pit?” Peyton asked.

 

Ironside nodded. “The pit is a twenty by twenty square behind the clubhouse with about eight inches of sand it. It’s where members go to settle their differences. If you get called to the pit, rank doesn’t matter.”

 

She swallowed hard. “Are there any rules?”

 

“Just those the people fighting agree to.”

 

“You ever been in the pit?”

 

“A couple of times, but not in the last six or seven years. It doesn’t get used often any more. I think the last time we had a pit fight was three, maybe four years ago.”

 

“What was it over?’

 

“What do you think? A woman.”

 

“What happened?”

 

Ironside smiled. “They kicked the shit out of each other. The winner fucked her right there in the pit, then never touched her again.”

 

“Some more of that bros before hoes shit, right?”

 

He snorted. “Something like that. Are you sure you want to do this? I can stop it.”

 

“I want this.” She grinned. “I have a lot of pent up anger. If I can’t take it out on you in the bedroom with my pussy, I’ll take it out on her in the pit with my fists.”

 

He grinned, his cock beginning to harden. “You could stay the night.”

 

She smiled. “I’d like to, but I haven’t got the time. I’ll need to fight and run.”

 

He stroked her ass. “You could fuck and run.”

 

She giggled. “That would take a lot longer than this will.”