Where Souls Spoil (Bayonet Scars Series, Volume I) (Bayonet Scars #1-4.5)

Jim brought it to the club to talk about moving Junior out of the safe house and into someplace more permanent. We’ve talked about this twice now, and moving him has been voted down both times. I already asked him if this was Ruby holding his dick again, or if this was his idea. The old man swears it’s his idea, but I fucking doubt it. For every ounce of support and loyalty she’s shown that man, he owes her, at the very least, giving her his ear every now and then. I only fucking wish he had the fucking spine to tell her no once in a while. One more call from his Old Lady, and I’m gonna call to patch her ass in. Apparently she’s running this shit anyway.

Speaking of chicks that think they’re running shit, I’m about to have to have a “Come to Jesus” moment with Holly about how she’s avoiding me— again. The situation was ridiculous two weeks ago. Now it’s just pissing me the fuck off. Guess she doesn’t realize that the more she tries to run, the more intent I am on catching her, especially after she showed me what she’s made of behind all of her arrogance and indignation. I’ve been by her place enough times. She never answers the door. Her roommate, Mindy, thinks Holly and I are in the middle of a messy break-up, which is a good thing. It means she does know how to keep her mouth shut. Now, if only she’d let me make good on my end of our bargain, and take the fucking cash. The crazy bitch threw twenty-five grand out of her car window, so I’m pretty sure she won’t accept it, but that’s just too fucking bad. At every turn she’s shown that she can handle her shit and she can handle mine, so fuck that. We’re just going to keep playing this dance until she gives up.

“I’m telling you, the kid may be a Grade-A asshole, but he’s got some theories on Mancuso’s next play,” Duke says from across the table. He takes a drag of his cigarette, holds the smoke in a moment, and then blows it out like it’s the best goddamn thing he’s ever had his lips on, and that’s saying something since I know the bitch he has in his bed. Nic’s hot—a little young for my taste—and she used to be a real party girl, but now that Duke’s dumb ass went and knocked her up, she’s all about nobody smoking around her and being healthy and shit. It’s the right thing to do, but now this asshole has to get his fix in Church. Wouldn’t bother me if he could just stop looking like he’s just shot a load into his jeans while he’s doing it.

“We’re not moving him,” Ryan says from my left. His voice is strained, and his muscles are tight. He’s really not having any of this conversation, but too bad for his bitch ass, we each get a vote. Ryan can’t see past his hatred for the guy, and while it’s understandable, we really need him to get his head in the game and to start voting smart, not angry.

Some months back, Jim called in a marker he’d put in with the club decades ago. His Old Lady, had a couple of kids—twins—that were taken from her. Jim promised her that even though she didn’t have custody of the kids, should they ever need it, he’d keep them safe. It was one of those things he agreed to and then forgot about, but then just before summer, he had to call in that fucking marker. And as if rescuing a teenage girl from the Italian fucking mafia on their own turf isn’t stupid enough, we ended up rescuing a teenage girl who ratted her own father out. My word is my word, so I went and did my thing. It was a club vote, and the club voted that the girl is family, so I kept my mouth shut, played my part, and let it go. But then Ryan had to go and fall for the bitch, and now shit’s all fucked up again.

“He’s of no use to us as long as he’s living in that shithole,” Duke says, leaning in toward Ryan. “I get that this is personal for you, but you gotta let it go, brother. Princess has.” Ryan’s head cocks to the side just slightly, and he narrows his eyes. Ryan has an itchy trigger finger because Junior beat the shit out of the girl, Alex, until she had her ribs busted up and she could barely see from her swollen eyes. Can’t say I’d let that shit go, either. If Layla had taken a beating like that, the motherfucker would be dead. Even if he was my own brother, I’d gut him and let him watch me tear his intestines out of his body.

“Do I?” Ryan says.

“Yeah,” Duke says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Like you let it go when Darren tried to rape Nic? Like you handled that? Is that what I should do?”

“That’s different, brother,” Duke says. “That piece of shit fucking raped her more times than your dumb ass can count and then he tried to rape her with my baby inside of her. Mine. He hurt her, and he made her think she was shit. Princess took a couple of pops and walked away from it. Nic’s still trying to figure her shit out. Do not fucking compare the two.”

“Hey!” Wyatt shouts. “Neither of those situations should have ever happened. The club failed both of them. The last thing I want to think about is how we let a member’s kid get raped…again and a-fucking-gain…and how we let a member of our family be kidnapped from under our noses. So let’s move the fuck on, already, shall we?”