“What the fuck was with your mood?” Mal asks me as we walk back to the hotel to get ready to watch out for tonight’s show.

“You’re fuckin’ kidding me, right?” I growl, stopping and glaring at my brother.

“No, I fuckin’ don’t. Want to tell me what the problem was?”

“Five minutes before she got there, you told me that all the leads you have keep leading back to her, and movin’ from fuckin’ city to city, wherever she goes, which makes me wonder if she’s involved and is playin’ us for a fuckin’ fool, and you want me to be happy about that?”

“Never said she was in on it, I just said whatever fuckin’ show is bein’ run, they’re followin’ her. I don’t know why, but she might not have a god damned clue. So, settle the fuck down.”

My fists clench, and I glare at him. “She has no clue? Are you fuckin’ with me? Why else would they follow her?”

“Maybe because you are, ever think of that? Maybe they’re keepin’ tabs on you. I don’t fuckin’ know, Maverick. Haven’t figured it out yet, but when I do, I’ll let you know. Until then, stop treatin’ her like shit or you’ll never get in close enough to find out if she has something to do with it.”

I shoot him a withering, icy glare. “You’re kidding me, right? You want me to get in closer, knowin’ I want to fuck her so hard I can barely think straight when I’m around her?”

“You want to do more than fuck her,” he mutters, lighting up a cigarette. “And you’re fuckin’ worried about bein’ near her because you know you’ll get attached.”

“You know fuck-all.”

He raises a brow.

“Get fucked, Malakai.”

He flashes me a grin. “I’m on her side, for now. She’s a fuckin’ sweet girl, doesn’t seem like the impure type, which makes me think whatever they’re followin’ her for she has no idea about it.”

“Not convinced,” I mutter, feeling my chest tighten with rage, and anxiety, and fucking disappointment.

I like that girl.

But if she has something to do with drugs, and playing me and my club, it won’t end well. That fucking kills me, because I don’t want to see a single hair on her head harmed. I can only pray to fucking god that she’s telling the truth and is pure as I’ve seen her when we’re sitting alone, talking. Better yet, when her mouth is all over mine. Fuck.

She better not be dirty.

“Got somethin’ else to tell you before we go to this show. Don’t flip your lid, because fuck knows you’re already in a filthy mood now.”

I glare at my brother. “What else are you about to drop on me?”

He nods over my shoulder and I turn, and everything in my world stops. Koda is walking toward me with Boston-fuckin’-Rhayne beside him. I see red. Everything in my world blacks out for a moment, everything except pure, raw, hatred. That motherfucker is the reason she’s dead. He’s the reason my world turned upside down. He’s the reason I am out on this fuckin’ road alone.

A hand grasps my shoulder, Mal’s, and I hear his voice vaguely in my ear. “It wasn’t his fault, Maverick. You fuckin’ know that. You gotta put this shit behind you and blend with the club again. Only way to do that was for me to bring him and get this shit over with.”

“You. Fuckin’. Piece. Of. Shit,” I snarl, thumping my brother’s hand off my shoulder.

“Maverick,” Mal warns. “I will fuckin’ drop you if I have to.”

“Try it.”

I lunge as soon as Boston is close enough, fist flying, smashing into the middle of his face. He stumbles backward, grabbing my jacket as he goes, pulling us both onto the ground. I land on top of him and drive my fist into his face over and over. He doesn’t fight me, and that makes me angrier.

“Fight me, you motherfucker, or I’ll kill you.”

“Kill me then,” he snarls, blood pouring down his face and out of his mouth. “I won’t fight you, brother.”

“I’m not your fuckin’ brother!” I roar, driving his fist into his face again.

“It wasn’t my fault, Maverick!”

“You were supposed to protect her! You were supposed to be watchin’ her! You never should have let her outside. You fuckin’ good as killed her. I fuckin’ trusted you,” I bellow, pummeling his face over and over.

People are screaming around us, cameras are flashing, but I can’t stop. All I can see is red. Red, raw, rage. Someone grabs me by the jacket and hauls me backward. “Enough, Maverick,” Mal roars in my ear, shaking me. “Fuckin’ stop.”

I glance around, panting in broken agony, and see easily thirty people watching me. My eyes go to Boston on the ground, coughing and spitting up blood, but he doesn’t get up, he doesn’t try to fight me, he just looks me in the eye and says, “It wasn’t my fault. I’m sorry, brother. One day you’ll let me tell you what happened that day. Today clearly ain’t that day.”

My fists clench and it feels like they’re on fire when they do. My chest rises and falls, and my eyes fall on a family walking toward the chaos I just unleashed in the middle of the street. I can’t let a child see that kind of horror. So, I turn and growl out, “Stay the fuck away from me,” to my brother, and then I’m gone.

The pain in my chest feels like it’s going to cripple me.

I need to get the fuck out of here.

Now.