The last fucking thing I want to do is leave Nicole. She’s become a drug that I am fast becoming addicted to. I have to have more of it—more of her. I’ve never been in this head space before, especially about a fucking woman and I’m unsure what to do about it. I just know I want more. I guess comparing a woman to a fucking needle, in a fucking vein, ain’t what they want to hear from a man, but that’s what she is. I just left and I already want another hit.

I have never in my life put a woman before my club or my brothers, but in that moment, I am tempted to tell Crusher to handle shit and leave me with Nicole. I couldn’t leave without kissing her. I had to.

When we get to the Pussy’s, all thoughts of Nicole manage to leave my mind. Jess is in bad shape. Some fucker had worked her over and beaten her so bad, she’s pretty much unrecognizable. Her face is swollen and mangled. Her nose is broken and the blood from it runs down and intermingles with what is seeping out from all the cuts on her face. It was enough to fucking turn your stomach. I’ve seen some fucked up shit in my time, but to know a man had done this damage to a woman? My own stomach churns at the sight.

Poncho, the club doctor, came as soon as we called, and had just finished looking her over.

“Fuck Dragon. Someone almost killed this poor slip of a girl,” Poncho says, closing the door and leaving the Jess resting on the sofa in the office. She’s peaceful for now, but I suspect that’s because Poncho gave her something to help with that.

Poncho is a little guy, really. He stands about five foot. He’s skinny, haggard and looks worn out. I don’t know for sure how old he was, but I figure him to be in his sixties. Shit, from the looks of him, he could easily be older. He’s been on the Savage payroll since the beginning and even though most of our members have medic training, a doctor is a must at times.

“What damage are we talking Doc?” Crusher asks. Which is good, since I’m having trouble forming words while fighting the anger inside of me. It takes a piece of lowlife shit to do this to a woman.

“Her nose and arm are broken, and I can’t tell for sure without ex-rays, but I’d say at least three ribs as well, with more bruised. I’ve reset the nose, taped the arm up tight, which will do for tonight. Bring her to the house tomorrow and I’ll put her in a cast. I taped her ribs too, but she needs to be watched closely for a while. She’s in a lot of pain, so I just want to make sure she’s okay. Ideally she should be in the hospital, but I know your thoughts on that. I’ve got Vera staying the night with her and keeping an eye on her vitals.”

I nod, wanting to break something, but keeping my calm—barely. This woman’s blood on my hands. Someone did this to her to get to me. If not, there wouldn’t have been that fucking note. When I find this motherfucker, heads will roll.

“Anything on the cameras?” I asked Bull, Irish, Crush, and Gunner who have gathered around.

“Fucker took them out,” Irish speaks up.

That wasn’t entirely unexpected, but Bull and I know something that the others don’t.

Bull had come to me a couple months back, after one of the girls had been having trouble with an ex-boyfriend. The alleyway was a weak spot in our defenses. As Enforcer of the club, security was Bull’s responsibility. Sometimes we ran stuff through the club, sometimes we didn’t and handled it between the two of us. I never thought much about it before, but this time I was glad. We had decided to install small cameras in areas that were completely unexpected and thus hidden much better. It was fucked up that I had to be happy my brothers didn’t know about these cameras. Yet, I was, especially since I was pretty fucking sure what they would reveal.

Bull had put a series of three cameras along the base of the alley on all sides. They were low to the ground, so they might not show as much as the cameras that were taken out, but they sure as fuck would show us enough.

Someone was going to a fuck of a lot of trouble to make it look like Skull was trying to start a turf war. So much in fact, they were being obvious, too fucking obvious. I might not like Skull, but he was a smart man and there was no way he’d just paint a neon sign above his head.

“Bull? Have Freak check it.” Irish and the other men looked at me, but I just shake my head. I’d talk with my brothers soon. “Church tonight! In two fucking hours, at the shed and every fucking member better be there.”

“Prospects too?” Crusher asks.

“I have Frog and Nailer watching my woman and her girl. Call Beats and the other newbie out to watch over the rest of the girls here tonight. Close the doors to all the clubs. We’re going to go on lock down boys, until this shit is settled.”

“Ok Prez,” Irish says.

“Your woman?” Crusher asks.

Motherfucker.

“Did I stutter?”

“No, was just thinking that sounded pretty permanent, Prez.”

“My fucking business, you just make sure you respect it.” The warning in my order couldn’t be clearer. I trust my brothers. The original core anyway. But, Crusher has been foaming at the mouth over my girl too damned much.

Crusher frowns, but nods. Message fucking received.

Two hours later, I find myself once again staring at my brothers gathered around this big ass table, and wishing I was anywhere else. We had been through a lot of shit through the years. Things others would never experience or know about. When I say they knew where the fucking bodies were hidden...they know where the fucking bodies are hidden. I thought I could trust every damn one of them with my life. Hell, I have before and the now I’m faced with the fact that I have not one, but two fucking traitors in my club? That is bitter shit to swallow.

“Where’s Striker?” I ask Crusher, but knowing now that there are people I can’t trust, I feel my gut clench at Striker not showing.

“Twins said he left the club this morning and hasn’t been back. Not answering his cell, Prez. The boys checked and he’s not at home either.”

I nod, but don’t say anything. If it is him and the fucker thinks he can run, he’s dreaming. He might run, but he won’t get away. There’s not a rock big enough for him to hide under. I nod to Bull, he gets up and locks the door. He stands in front of it with his arms crossed and waits. Freak gets up next.

Freak is a motherfucking scary bastard. He’s tall and skinny, but between the tats all over his body and his many piercings, he intimidates everyone. That doesn’t even take into consideration the bullet holes tattooed all over his chest and stomach. It’s screwed up shit, the stuff looked so real—too fucking real. I’ve seen them for years and I still want to call 911 when I look at them.

Freak goes to the TV unit on the wall. He puts a disk into the DVD slot on the side. Guess its show time.

Fuck.

I hold the remote in my hand, look down at it, and try not to snap it in two.

“Bull came to me a few months back when one of the girls at Pussy’s started having trouble with an ex.”

“We handled that shit for you Prez,” Gunner spoke up. I nod because they had. Fucker had moved out of state after his beat down. I don’t have a lot of codes that I live by, but a man doesn’t take his hand to a woman. This rule is just one of the reasons I’m going to enjoy fucking up the traitors in my club.

“Yeah but Bull and I decided to take other steps,” I answer, letting my eyes land briefly on each of my brothers. All of them are pretty cool and calm. One had no reason to be, but I give him points for having balls. He won’t have them long.

Does he have a goddamned clue? Or is he really such a stupid fuck he thinks he can get away with this?

I motion to Crusher and Irish and hit play. The screwed up scene unravels with my men watching Twist approach Jess in the alley. Twist jumps up and that’s when Irish and Crusher grab him and slam him against the wall. Crusher holds him in place while Irish disposes of his weapons. I walk over to the piece of shit, all while the sounds of Jess’s cries are heard in the background.

“Did you really think you could betray me and my men and survive asshole?”

“Boss you got this all wrong.”

I pull out my gun and stick it in his mouth.

“Stop your excuses motherfucker,” I demand, pushing my 45 into his mouth to shut him the fuck up.

“What you should be doing is begging me to kill you now. It’s not going to be that fucking easy for you, though. By the time I’m done with you? You’ll beg me to end you. Too bad I won’t hear that shit, because after I break your goddamned ass and you sing like a canary? Your tongue will be one of the things I cut off, just for a fucking party.” I hold my hand at Twist’s throat and it’d be so easy to snap it and end this pile of dog shit. It’s not going to happen though. “Do you see your mistake yet motherfucker?” I ask, pushing the pistol in his mouth farther and to the right so his head snaps to that direction. On the TV now is a video of Twist just finishing his raping of an unconscious Jess. “After you finished getting your rocks off on the innocent woman you beat into unconsciousness, you called your fucking partner.” I bring my free hand back and punch him in the gut as hard as I can. His groan is muffled by my gun. I pull it out of his mouth and motion to the boys to let go. He sinks down to the floor. I slam my foot down on his balls and ground my size twelve steel toes even harder just to make sure I’m doing permanent damage. It doesn’t matter, he’ll never get a chance to use that shit again. It just gives me satisfaction. I reach down to grab him by the hair of his head and pull so his face is halfway up to mine. “Enjoy the pain motherfucker, because believe me, it’s just the fucking beginning.” Then I take the butt of my 45 and knock the fucker out. Hopefully just enough to make him sleep until we get him moved. I don’t want him dead—not yet anyway.

“Get him to the old meat packing plant on the edge of Skull’s territory. Time we meet up and discuss what the fuck is going on,” I order Bull.

“Yeah Boss-man, about that...” Irish interjects, and I look up waiting.

“Frog called. Your woman and that Dani chick are at the movies in Bridgetown. Skull and his crew are there,” Irish finishes and I can feel my blood literally boil.

“It appears he didn’t take your last warning seriously,” Crusher says and he has brains enough not to wise crack. He probably knows what a short leash I’m on.

“Son of a bitch!” I growl. “Load up!”