Weasel was so not in the mood for this, and as much as he kept telling this club whore to back off, she was drunk and just wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“Come on, baby. Get hard for me.”

He shook his head and waved her off, but still she stayed.

They were partying at the Soldiers clubhouse, many of the MC members either in the back fucking some club pussy, most getting drunk, or the ones who had old ladies were spending time with them.

“Come on,” she whined.

“I told you I’m not in the mood,” he said and took a swig of his beer, not bothering to look at her.

She went to grab his crotch, but he snatched her hand away, held her wrist in a loose but forceful hold, and stared at her. He was getting pissed that she was not getting the clue. The club whore, whom he didn’t even know her name, was rougher around the edges than most.

“I said no, now back the fuck off.” He let go of her hand.

“Fine, you don’t want me. Maybe you can’t get hard at all.”

He ignored her jab.

Weasel went over to the bar, grabbed the bottle of scotch, and started chugging right from it. He didn’t give a fuck how drunk he was getting. Hell, he wanted to get shitfaced.

Although Weasel didn’t have an old lady. He also didn’t fuck random women just for the sake of it. He had grown up to be this hardcore biker, the son of a felon who taught him to man up and shut the fuck up, and who also used him as a punching bag on occasion. It had hardened Weasel, made him the man he was today.

Ryker James Stewart.

That was who he used to be. Now he was just Weasel, and that was how he wanted shit to stay.

The truth was he wasn’t a good man, and it was that reason why he knew he couldn’t and would never have a good woman at his side.

“You okay, man?” Vengeance was the newest biker to get an old lady and find love. But although his brothers had found love, they were still hardcore motherfuckers.

“I’m good.” He lied right through his damn teeth. He wasn’t good. He was lonely, miserable, and being a jackoff. Pretending things were okay with him was what he was good at.

Vengeance stared at him, this hard, unreadable expression on his face. He turned and grabbed a bottle of liquor, drinking straight from the tip.

“Nah, you’re not cool. You look like someone kicked you in the balls then spit in your cereal.” Vengeance grabbed another shot and tossed that one back. They stared at each other, neither speaking. “I bet this is female problems.”

“Fuck off.” Weasel took a drink of alcohol.

Vengeance grunted. “You want to talk about it?” he asked Weasel.

Weasel stared at him. “Do I look like the type of asshole who talks about shit?”

“Nope, but you know I like to bug the shit out of you.”

Weasel ran a hand over his face and knew he needed to shave but didn’t give a fuck at the moment.

“Listen,” Vengeance said and faced Weasel again. “I won’t tell you what you should or shouldn’t do, but I will say this.” He paused for a moment. “If you want something so much that it consumes you, then you go for it.” Vengeance clapped him on the back, grinning. “Even if it seems impossible, or like it doesn’t make sense, you need to fight for what you want.”

Easy enough to say for a man who has everything.

* * *

This is a mistake, a big mistake.

Renee exhaled and rested her head back on the shitty seat of the bus she was on. The stench of used, dirty leather filled her nose. The sound of someone coughing in the back filled her ears.

But none of that could clear out the thick thoughts in her head.

Going to The Soldiers of Wrath clubhouse wasn’t what she was worried about. It was about seeing her brother Vengeance a man she loved more than life itself, and a man who had protected her from any threat he saw.

But she was nervous about seeing him because he didn’t know she was coming, and because she’d pushed him away after dating a grade-A douche she thought she loved. It had been a year since she’d seen Vengeance, and because she’d pushed him away for some asshole, she didn’t know if he’d welcome her with open arms.

The one phone call they had not that long ago didn’t really count. His happiness could have been because he’d found the woman he loved and nothing more.

Rubbing her hand over her face, she exhaled, feeling drained.

She looked out the window, but it was dark as hell outside. She could say she didn’t care about him being in an MC, but truth was she knew nothing about it.

She rested her head back on the seat again, focusing ahead of her. The bag she’d packed was sitting beside her in the empty seat.

After another hour of being on this Godforsaken bus, the sign that she was entering town came into view. The bus pulled to the curb, opened the door, and she got out.

The bus pulled away, and she was left there with a big cloud of exhaust covering her and the weight of the world hanging over her.