CHAPTER FOURTEEN
If a good woman is capable of soothing a man, a great one will only make him more wild and violent.
That’s exactly how I feel when a prospect from another club not-so-subtly checks out my wife.
Three days we’ve been at the rally without incident. This morning we came down to Main Street to check out the rows and rows of custom bikes lined up on the street.
And right there on the sidewalk in broad daylight, some fuckwit’s staring at Hope’s tits. As usual, my beautiful woman’s oblivious to the attention.
Next to me, Wrath chuckles. “Are we scaring him? Or delivering him to his president after a solid beating?”
“Haven’t decided yet.” I glance at him and shake my head at the murderous gleam in his eyes. “Feeling more bloodthirsty than usual?”
“Don’t like some little punk thinking he can flirt with my president’s ol’ lady right in front of us.”
It’s more than a club or respect issue for Wrath. It’s a Hope thing. As much as he loves teasing her, he won’t tolerate anyone else disrespecting her.
Hope’s strained laugh jolts me into action. My eyes narrow on the hand brushing her shoulder and the uncomfortable way she takes a step back.
My instinct to protect at all costs catches fire.
“Here we go,” Wrath rumbles.
I charge forward, shoving two bikers out of my way. Blood boils through my veins. I search the crowd for Z, but he’s already moving toward me. Farther away, I spot Teller and Charlotte. Thank fuck Murphy’s at the beach with Trinity and Heidi today. Teller pulls Charlotte away from the crowd and I nod at him.
We reach the prospect and I tap his shoulder. “You blind, motherfucker?” I ask in a low voice.
“Rock!” Hope’s eyes flare and relief softens the tension in her shoulders. Perhaps sensing my rage, she wraps her hand around my bicep and tugs. “He was just telling me about a party his club’s throwing.”
He turns to me with bloodshot eyes and a serene smile. “Yeah, man, you’re all invited.”
My gaze zeroes in on where his hand’s still resting on Hope’s shoulder. She shrugs it off and steps closer to me. I can’t tell if he’s willfully disobeying basic biker code, if he’s high, or plain stupid.
“Anyone teach you not to put your hands on another man’s ol’ lady?” My low voice attracts more attention than I intended. Or maybe it’s the sight of Wrath, Z, and I all glowering at this one lone prospect.
It finally seems to dawn on him that he made a mistake. His gaze bounces from my President’s patch, to Hope’s First Lady patch, and over to Wrath. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean no disrespect.” He holds his hands up and takes a step back, bumping into Z.
“Who are you with?” I ask.
“Dark Venom MC outta Georgia.”
While Hope’s still clinging to my arm, she hasn’t said a word to try and convince me not to choke this motherfucker. Knowing how soft my girl is, how much she hates violence, I’m guessing he made her pretty damn uncomfortable. I gently nudge her behind me toward Wrath and step closer.
“And what’s the penalty for touching a brother’s property up in Georgia?” I ask.
His bloodshot eyes widen and he drops his hands, clasping them behind his back.
“Dark Venom? Slick Rick still in charge?” Z asks.
“What’s going on?” someone to my left asks.
I turn and take in the beefy biker with the snakehead tattoo crawling up his throat and a patch that reads Vice President.
“He belong to you?” I jerk my head toward the prospect.
The VP looks me over and straightens up, widening his stance. “Who’s asking?”
“I am. Your boy put his hands on my ol’ lady.”
The VP briefly closes his eyes before glancing at the prospect. “You fucking serious?”
“I was lettin’ her know about the party like Bobby said.”
“Single chicks. Muffler bunnies, not other club’s old ladies. Tha fuck’s wrong with you?” He gestures to Hope. “Couldn’t be more obvious she ain’t a fuckin’ bunny.” He throws a smirk Hope’s way. “No offense, darlin’.”
“I’m fine, really,” Hope says, not bothering to move closer. Either that, or Wrath has a hold of her.
The VP nods at me. “Do what you gotta do. I ain’t gonna dispute it.”
Exactly what I was waiting to hear. I spot at least two other Venom brothers in the crowd, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t more of ’em. I’m fully confident Wrath, Z, and I can handle it, but I’d rather not start a street brawl if it can be avoided.
I pull back and punch the prospect in the face, knocking him to the ground. Blood gushes from his nose and he covers his face with his hands.
“You got off easy,” the VP shouts down to him. “Woulda broke your damn fingers in our clubhouse and you know it.”
The kid shakes his head and holds up his hands as if to explain he got the message.
“Are you okay, Hope?” Wrath asks against my ear.
Too shaken to say speak, I nod.
“Hey, look at me,” he persists.
I force a fake smile and turn. Concern darkens his blue eyes, making me feel weak and vulnerable. “I’m fine, Wrath. Were you worried I was going to try to stop Rock?”
He doesn’t crack a smile, because I suspect he’s not at all fooled by my false bravery. “You know better by now.”
True. I don’t love the violence. Hate that Rock needs to make his point with his fists. But it’s what I signed up for. I’m firmly inside the biker world on this trip. Citizen rules of civility don’t apply. And if the rules dictate the prospect gets a fist to the face for touching me, so be it. He knows what he signed up for too. Never mind that he was creepy as fuck.
What I am worried about is the brief altercation spilling over or escalating into more violence. Wrath’s certainly warned me enough times how out of control these situations can get. I suspect that’s why his arm has remained firmly clamped down on my shoulders ever since Rock stepped forward to speak to the other MC’s Vice President.
Relief spreads through me and this time I glance up and give Wrath a more genuine smile. “Thank you.”
He raises a blond eyebrow. “For?”
“Having my back.”
“Always, Cinderella.” A devious smile curves his lips. “Try to stay out of trouble for the rest of the day, okay?”
Even though he’s baiting me, I cross my arms over my chest. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Too pretty for your own good, Hope,” Z says, joining us.
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“Yes,” he answers simply.
Shaking my head, I turn back to the crowd, searching for Rock. He’s speaking to the Vice President of the other MC. The prospect nowhere to be seen.
“Probably,” Z says. “Not really cut out to be a brother if he can’t follow basic instructions.”
“So glad I could serve as his litmus test,” I grumble.
Rock shakes hands with the other biker and strides away at a slow, unconcerned pace. For a few seconds, I continue watching the Vice President for any signs that this isn’t over before turning my attention to Rock.
The tightness around his mouth tells me his easy manner as he walks through the crowd is for show. He stops in front of me and lifts his chin at Wrath. The heavy arm on my shoulders is replaced by Rock’s. He pulls me closer, dropping a possessive kiss on my lips, almost knocking me off my feet. I curl my fingers into the leather on his shoulders to maintain my balance.
Breaking our kiss, but keeping a firm hold on me, he pulls back. Deep gray eyes search my face. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
He’s silent. As if he’s waiting for me to elaborate. Instead, I take his hand, wincing at the blood on his knuckles. “Let’s get ice on this.”
“We cool, Prez?” Z asks, nodding at the last place the VP had been standing.
“Yeah. Talked for a minute about how hard it is to find good recruits. Small club. Don’t think he wants any trouble.”
“Let’s go grab a drink,” Wrath says, steering us toward the closest bar.
I’m still too unsettled for alcohol, so I ask Rock to order cranberry juice and seven-up for me instead before heading into the bathroom.
As I’m washing up, I stare at my face in the mirror. Despite the sunscreen I slathered on this morning, my nose is slightly pink and freckles I haven’t seen since high school dot my nose and chest. I pull a brush out and quickly run it through my wild and windblown hair. This humidity has made it double in volume.
The door swings open and a short woman with spiky black hair joins me. Almost as if she was looking for me.
She’s wearing a brand new Harley Davidson tank top. Crisp, clean jeans, and scuff-free boots. No jewelry, but a tan line around her ring finger. Almost like she woke up and decided to dress up as “biker chick” today.
“Hey, you’re a Lost Kings old lady right? I hear your gang’s the one to talk to for the good shit.”
“I’m not in a gang. I’m here with my husband’s motorcycle club,” I answer without looking away from the mirror, where I’m busy swiping gloss over my lips.
“Club. Right. Got you.” She gives me this weird, exaggerated wink. “I hear your club has the hookup. Looking for some pot and,” she lowers her voice. “A little meth.”
“Huh?” Granted, I haven’t been privy to many, okay any, drug deals in my life, but I sort of doubt it’s customary to walk up to a stranger and ask for drugs in such a cavalier manner. “I’m sorry. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh. Right. Okay. So your old man doesn’t like you to talk about it.” She puts her fingers to her lips. “Just tell me which one’s holding and I’ll talk to him.” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a rolled up wad of twenties. “I have the cash.”
My heart beats faster, but outside I remain calm and impassive. “I really have no idea what you’re talking about.” I reach for the door. “If you’ll excuse me.”
“Is it the big dude? He seems like the smart choice to be carrying for you.”
I almost snort and say something snotty like, “Yeah, march on over to Wrath and say that to his face and see what happens to you.” But I calmly push past her and grab the door handle instead. “You were given bad information.”
Relief washes over me as I step into the hallway. Z’s waiting for me and pushes off the wall. “Everything all right? I saw that chick go in there—”
I grab his arm and pull him aside. “Something’s not right about her. She kept asking if she could buy drugs from one of us.”
“What the fuck?”
“Right? It was so damn weird.”
He glares at the closed bathroom door as if he’s considering storming inside to shake some information out of the pesky girl.
While I’m relieved to see Z, I really need Rock. I scan the bar area my gaze finally landing on him.
Rage replaces my worry.
A whole load of rage I’m about to unleash on the woman with her hand on Rock’s arm.