BRONX:

The Executive Board meeting had already begun, and the question on the table was should the Guardians actively recruit more members outside of Pennsylvania, Maryland and New York area, re-establish connections with some of the other clubs or continue as they were.

Razor was the one to bring up the question. It was posed to the ten men he kept on the board. This included me, Apollo, Dash, Shiz, Wolf, Uno, Bear, Bird, Snoop and Rep. They all held status ranging from Treasurer, Secretary, Road Captain, Sergeant at Arms, Honorary Members, and one Prospect. They all had various professions, nationalities, and backgrounds but they all shared one common thing. They lived, breathed and believed in the Guardians. Razor trusted them to do what they felt was best for the Guardians and to adhere to his leadership, even when they disagreed. There were a couple of them who had been members longer than Razor, but they believed in the vision. And then there were ones who were sold out to the Guardian’s and did not always agree with Razor’s methods. They rarely caused trouble, but the Pres thought it was good to keep a balance at the table.

He was right, but a couple of times, like today, I wanted to put an end to some of their authority.

“Why the fuck do we need to recruit actively, when we have a laundry list of prospects running around the damn compound every goddamn day?” Bear huffed.

“Be-cause,” Apollo said slowly, “those prospects are in their late teens and early twenties. We need to continue to broaden our reach to professionals. We are good at what we do because we have seasoned, trained and mature men that have life experience and have dealt with shit.”

Bear grunted.

“I say we keep looking,” Wolf added. “It won’t hurt any and you’re right.” He pointed his toothpick towards Apollo. “I don’t want a twenty-year-old hot-head on a search and rescue waving around a gun.”

“That’s why they are prospects,” I noted. “They wouldn’t have guns.”

Razor looked at me, probably because my tone was curt and I was normally the cool-headed one. I continued my thought, “I also think we should expand because shit gets ugly everywhere and I get the mail every day. Folks are requesting our help from as far as California and Texas. So, yea for me.”

“Let’s call it to a vote.” Razor projected his voice, “All in favor?”

Hands went up, and Shiz, the secretary, recorded the yeas.

“All not in favor?”

A few hands went up, and Shiz recorded those as well.

“The yeas have it. We’ll start recruiting outside of PA.”

The president hit the gavel, and everybody stood up to leave.

“Brother,” Razor called after me. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” I answered.

He nodded his head and said, “Come over tonight for a beer and let’s watch the stars or something.”

He was worried.

“I’m on a run, tonight. Maybe next time,” I said and turned.

“Sunday?” he asked.

I turned a little too quickly, and Razor raised an eyebrow. Our eyes locked as he yelled, “Clear the room.”

My arms automatically folded over my broad chest in defense. Razor’s eyes never left mine when he said, “You don’t have to say anything and believe me, I’m not one to hound you. I never have. You’ve always had my back when nobody else did. I don’t just call you brother because we’re Guardians, but I think of you as one. Saying all that to mean, when you hurt, that shits hurts me. You are fucking torturing yourself for something that needs to be put to bed. I will help you dig the mother fucking grave if that’s what you need to do, but brother, I need you right now. I need you at the top of your game, focused and ready because I’m hearing some shit coming from Lancaster and I want to be prepared. I need to be prepared.  This shit,” Razor’s index finger pointed to the ground and circled around once, “doesn’t work without us. It doesn’t work without you. We all got our shit, Bronx. Fucking believe that, but the thing about us is we got brothers to help carry our shit. This is me offering. What can I do? What do you need from me? Digging graves, sitting on the porch while you trash your house, taking you home so you don’t wrap your bike around a guard rail. You fucking name it, and it’s done.”

I shook my head because he meant every word of it. He’d do it, but what needed to be done, I had to do it. I never thought I needed to because I thought it should have kept me hostage until the day I died, but now it was starting to consume me.

“I’m handling it.” I unfolded my arms and sighed. “Fuck, I just didn’t know where to start with that shit.”

“Maybe talk to her?” he suggested.

“Shay?”

“No, the other one.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “I think I need to talk to her brother first. He’s the one fucking Shay.”

Razor whistled loudly.

“Holy shit,” he muttered. “You think he said something to her?”

“Don’t know,” I guessed, “but I don’t want it coming from him.”

“Right. Need me to go with you?”

“Naw. Appreciate your words, brother. But this shit, I need to handle myself. I know you get that. It’s why you were mad at ya old lady for intervening with your family. Good intentioned and all, but some shit you just got to handle on your own.”

Razor nodded, “Yeah, I get that. In hindsight, if my Kylie hadn’t intervened, we wouldn’t be where we are today. Re-united. So, I’m not going to go knocking on any doors, but I’m asking, brother to brother, friend to friend, come over, let Kylie cook for you and yap about the latest book she’s read.”

I nodded.

“Sunday?” he asked.

“Sunday,” I agreed.

We shook and pulled each other in for a one shoulder embrace. I went to pull back, but Razor didn’t and said, “Always got your back.”

I knew he did, and that was how we rolled.

Snoop, also known as Theo Lemond, did some research for me and found out that Greg Pruis lived in the next town. Theo was a police officer for the Manor County Sheriff’s office. He’d been working there for about three years, and he had been a Guardian for at least five years. The brother had been a great asset to us, and he was loyal. He believed in justice and also knew that bureaucracy could get in the way of real justice.

Before I went out of town, I stopped by the Home Depot to get some more furniture like a coat rack, side table, plaster, and sheetrock so that I could fix the shit in my foyer. I never drank to get drunk. I only drank on a social level, because my mother was a damn drunk and she did stupid shit when she tied one on.

This was one of the reasons why I started to fight when I was younger. The crazy ass guys she brought home in a drunken stupor would want to stay the next day by will or force. Then she’d apologize profusely and do the same thing over again the next week. I had to grow up quick and be able to defend not just me but my mom. She never abused me or let anyone do anything to me; I just had to see a lot of shit way before my time. The woman was damaged, but she was my mother, and I loved her. She passed away ten years ago, due to liver failure. I had her remains cremated, and they were in my living room over the fireplace.

There were many things to hate about her, but she had a disease. Drunk or not, the woman came to my boxing and wrestling matches until I started competing underground. She had enough shit to deal with than worrying about watching her son possibly die in one of those death matches. That was a time in my life when I was down, and nothing mattered.

Nothing and nobody.

After I filled the truck with my tools to fix the furniture, a rumbling of motorcycles shook the ground as they passed. The club patch didn’t look familiar, but usually, when the motorcycles rolled through, they gave a heads up to the main club territory. Unless they were rogues. The last thing we needed were more of those. Those bitches didn’t live by any rules or code; they just did whatever the fuck they wanted, and that was no way to live. I’ve known some to rape, kill and mutilate women, children, and pets.

No fucking boundaries.

As I was riding by Cedar Street, I saw the five bikers had pulled over, and the cuts read ‘The Devil’s Vipers’ with a skeleton’s face covered with blood and a knife through the top of the skull. Two were still on their bikes, and the other three were talking to someone, but they were too short to see. Immediately, I slowed down because out-of-towners did not come into our town to interrogate anyone. Hitting the one button on my phone, it dialed Razor.

“You hear anything about another club running through here?” I asked.

“Naw, where you at?”

“Cedar Street, near the townhouses.” I looked around. “Almost dead around here with only a few people on the streets, but five guys on Harley’s have cornered a guy.”

“On my way,” Razor growled.

I hopped out of my cab and the closer I got, the louder I heard the voice I should not have.

“Move out of my fucking way, you big ass beast,” she yelled.

Oh, fuck no.

Fuck no!?!

It was Shay.

“Problem,” one of the guys that were atop his bike asked me.

“Yeah,” I nodded.

All three guys turned to face me, and one of them had Shay by the upper arm.

“Boys, this one here has a problem.” The bigger guy got off of his bike, looking like he consumed way too much beer over the years and had too much sun with his orange complexion covered with lighter blotches.

Assessing the guys surrounding Shay, one had to be a leader and the others would follow him. Two were husky like they were football players and the other was short but bulky. They did not seem like the active types, so counting the odds, I would have to take them before Razor came.

One of them stepped forward, he had a braided beard, with beads on the end, and greasy unkempt hair. That was the leader.

“You are?” he asked.

“This is Guardian territory.” I did not answer him.

“Ahh, heard about you angels, walking around trying to keep the streets safe.” The rest of them laughed. “What business you have here?”

“This is my town. What business do you have here?” I asked.

“We’re just passing through. Came to collect some information.” He pointed to Shay, who was surprisingly quiet. “And we’ll be on our way.”

I nodded my head and assessed my boots before I spit on the ground.

“Problem is, she’s mine.” I pointed to Shay.

Her eyebrows rose, but I sent her a quick look of ‘shut the fuck up.’

“Oh, now the little lady didn’t say she belonged to no one. Now did she, fellas?” the leader rhetorically asked.

They all shook their heads and grunted various versions of their bullshit no’s.

“I see.” I stepped closer to the leader and said, “But I’m telling you, she’s mine.”

His guys moved in to close in on the two of us.

“I see how that could be a problem.” The man smirked. “Now, it’s five of us and one of you.”

“That’s fine. Wasn’t planning on leaving anyone standing,” I noted.

The leader tilted his head to the side, probably trying to figure out if I was bat-shit crazy or that deadly. The rest of the men burst into laughter, but he didn’t.

“Let me take care of him boss.” The first guy that was off his motorcycle called as he moved within five feet of me.

The leader nodded and took a step back. I pointed to the bold guy and said, “You get one hit, so make it count.”

“This fucker is whacked,” he laughed with the other guys.

“Bronx, no,” Shay called.

Acknowledging her comment would let them know how much she meant to me, so I ignored her as the guy stepped to me and delivered a hefty ass punch. I swear a couple of my teeth loosened as I stumbled back. Looking up at him, I nodded and said, “Good one.”

Raising my balled fists up covering my ears, I crouched low as he moved in again to swing. I quickly moved out of the way, jabbed him twice in the face, then raised my boot up to slam into his crotch.

He went down with an agonizing groan.

“Holy fuck,” one of the guys whispered.

“Take ‘em,” the leader said to the others.

Three of them came at me at the same time, leaving Shay with him.

“Sorry, guys, you already got your one punch,” I taunted.

My fists went back up to my ears, as I walked them away from Shay. The one with the beer belly moved to my right while the others spread out. Then the one in the middle advanced, attempting to tackle me to the ground. I dodged him then moved to my right and punched the big one in the throat. The one on the left advanced and I gave him two body shots and lifted my left boot and brought it down on the back of his calf, causing an ear-wrenching crack that was followed by a scream as it broke. The first guy who I pushed out of my way, saw his other two friends on the floor and advanced in the same way. This time, I grabbed him by the shoulder and brought my knee to connect with his face.

Blood splattered everywhere as he screamed on the way down. Slowly, I turned towards the leader who was now against the brick wall with a knife at Shay’s throat. The man did not look scared, but he looked uncomfortable. Shay, on the other hand, looked like she was ready for war. Her face was hard, mouth tight and the tears were rolling. I raised my hand up for her sake so she would at least look at me and calm down.

“Don’t come any closer,” the leader said.

That did not stop me as I kept moving at a measured pace. Too fast and he would strike, I could tell and too slow, he’d have time to think. I didn’t want either, but I kept moving.

“I said stop,” he warned.

I slowed down with my hand still up. Then I said, “You should know, if there is even one drop of blood drawn from her, I will kill you.”

“You’re not in a position to be making threats.” The man pointed the knife at me. “We didn’t come down here to start shit, but we can do that.”

My lips turned up, and I repeated, “One drop and you’re a dead man.”

Shay caught my eye, and then she looked down trying to signal me for something. It was too late before I realized what she was going to do.

Her fist came up and slammed into his crotch, causing him to yell out in pain, but not before he tried to slice her throat.

Thank God, he missed and sliced her shirt as he keeled over. I blacked the fuck out and grabbed his messy mane and began to slam his head into the brick wall.

It had to be about the fourth time before I realized Shay was screaming and grabbing on my arms trying to get me to stop.

Fuck.

She hadn’t bled, but I was about to kill him.

“Bronx, stop. Please, stop,” she begged.

I let him go, and he dropped like a sack of potatoes. Seconds later, Razor and about ten guys rolled up on their bikes. Shay was crying profusely, so I went to see if she had, in fact, got hurt. Her eyes were on mine, and when I pulled on her torn shirt to inspect her, she ran into my chest and wrapped her arms around me, continuing to cry.

Fuck.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured in her hair.

She held tighter, so I wrapped my arms around her until Kylie showed up to take over.

******

“SO, APPARENTLY SHAY’S cousin is in town, and she was hooked up with some prospect at a club over in Norristown.” Razor was informing me about why the drama hit our town.

“Some guns went missing on his watch, and when he was confronted, he ran and they came to take it out on her. She ran here to start over.”

That shit made me madder. Instead of using their manpower to find the actual guy, they came to confront a woman and her cousin.

“Shay denied her cousin was here and then apparently you showed up. I talked to the club’s president. He was saying he apologizes for his rogue members. The guy with the braided beard was the one to vouch for the prospect, so he felt personally responsible when the guns went missing. As a show of good faith, I told them that we’d inform him if the guy surfaced.”

“Hmm,” I nodded.

“He doesn’t seem to have a handle on shit over there.”

“He better get it.” The anger started to come back.

“Brother, they’ll be protected until we deem it’s no longer necessary.” He was waving his finger between him and I.

“Razorrrr,” a guttural sound escaped from my throat. “They had her.” I pushed from against the wall as the guys started to get back on their bikes. The ones that could. “They fucking had her.”

“Yeah, man. I get it. Believe me that shit won’t happen again.” Razor nodded, “You good?”

The look in his eye resembled the same one when Kylie had been taken. He was just as livid but as our leader, he didn’t have the luxury of losing his shit. I usually didn’t lose it, but one way to guarantee that was by touching Sharon Russell. That would bring down fire, hell and brimstone.

“Yeah, I'm headed to take care of some business.”

“Alright, brother.”

We slapped hands and went our way.

******

“BRONX, HUH?” GREG SNEERED.

“Greg, got a minute?” I took a step back on the porch so he could come outside.

“Well, I actually did want to chat with you.”

He was a little too smug for my taste.

“Say what you got to say.” I held out my hand.

His arms folded over his broad chest and he inhaled.

“I gather, Shay doesn’t know about you leaving my sister at the altar, huh?”

Fuck.

“No, and I’d like to be the person to break it to her,” I noted.

He smiled brightly.

“Ahh, and you’d like me to keep that bit of information to myself, then?” His arms unfolded, and he placed them on his hips. “Would you also like me to stop fucking her, too?”

“Careful,” I growled.

Greg’s laugh sounded like that of a sinister villain, causing the heat on my back to return from earlier. I had already pounded one guy’s face in, and I was game for another.

“I should be careful?” he chuckled. “The way I see it, you’re the one that should be careful. Any fool can tell you’re in love with her, and she wants nothing to do with you. Serves you right. You don’t deserve happiness. My sister was devastated, embarrassed and humiliated when the entire wedding was planned and your punk ass decided not to show. Now you walk around here with your biker cut on and the army of the Guardians to fight your battles, and you couldn’t even stand by your commitment.”

And there it was, in all its shameful glory.

My cowardice was ever present before me back in a time when all that mattered was my next beat down. Shelly was sweet, kind and followed me around like a lost puppy and I was so broken that I let her. We said we’d get married and planned a small wedding to honor that. Yet, on game day, the bells started to chime, the music started to play, and I could not gather the courage to walk down the stairs and down that aisle. My groomsmen and her bridesmaids were all downstairs except Shelly and I. I left and ended up traveling for a couple of years in the underground boxing circuit and didn’t come back to Pennsylvania for some time for fear that I’d run into her or have to face that shame. The most cowardice moment of my life.

I had heard Shelly moved and married some guy from out of town. They had a couple of kids and from what I heard, she is happy.

“You’re right,” I nodded. “I fucked up royally, and I’ve been beating myself up ever since. I'm not here to rehash shit, I'm here to fix it. Like I should have sixteen years ago.”

Greg seemed surprised by my admission, but he remained silent.

“I'd like to speak with Shelly and do what I didn't do all those years ago.”

He scoffed.

“Oh no. She's married with kids and believe me, you're dead to her. To our whole fucking family.”

“That's fine, but I'd still like to speak to her.”

“Yeah, that's not going happen.” Greg’s jeering stopped, and he continued, “You're going to stay away from Shay.  I'll keep fucking her till I make her mine, and I'll keep that bit of news about Shelly to myself.” He smiled. “Well, on the other hand, it might be worth my while to just tell Shay, and then another woman will know just what a coward you are.”

My heat levels were at an orange, and all I wanted to do was bash his face in. I was in his space now and though he physically stayed in place, his eyes betrayed him, showing the well-placed fear that should have been there.

“You’d do best not to give me idle threats, Greg. Let me be clear, wearing this cut does not make me tough. My brothers will have my back, but if I strike you down right now, they'll have my back while I sit in jail. If anything, Greg, this cut limits me from unleashing all holy hell on people who cross me, like now.”

I got closer to him, our noses practically touching as I hovered over the lanky man. “I am not that guy from sixteen years ago. I’m worse.”

That was all I had to say so I turned around and left. I had a foyer to fix and some shit to figure out.