As Bear watched the situation unfolding in the palm of his hand, and the reality of what was going on set in, his entire demeanor shifted. He turned rigid, his shoulders stiffened, and his eyes focused. His brows furrowed in confusion at first, but by the time the video was over and the screen went dark his fists were clenched in anger.
“If you care about her half as much as I think you do, then get your ass up, tuck your dick into your pants, and get in the fucking truck.” Bear stood from the bed and pulled up his pants. He walked over to the dresser and pushed it off the wall, exposing a hole in the drywall. He reached inside and felt around, producing two pistols, making sure both of them were loaded before placing them in the holsters under his cut. “Let’s fucking go,” he said, shoving his feet into his boots which had been sitting by the open door of the tiny bathroom. He didn’t bother with the laces.
Bear shoved me aside and left the room first, leading the way toward the back staircase, the opposite of how I’d come. The sound of boots coming up the stairs on the other end of the courtyard echoed underneath the flimsy overhangs.
“I guess it doesn’t matter what rules I set, boy. You ain’t gonna listen to a damn one of them anyway.” Chop stood at the bottom of the stairs. “Had high hopes for you. But how the fuck am I supposed to pass the gavel to a VP who doesn’t respect his brothers, his president, or the rules we live by?”
“We can argue about all this shit later, Pops,” Bear said dismissively. “King’s girl’s is going to get herself dead in about an hour if we don’t get to her, so we can have our little heart to heart when I get back from making sure that doesn’t happen.”
“In trouble again? Girl looked spooked when she came here a few weeks ago, too.” Chop said, sucking on his upper teeth.
“She was here?” Bear asked, stepping back up to Chop. Two of his men flanked his sides when they saw me approach, pushing back their cuts to show me a flash of their pistols, reminding me they were armed.
But so the fuck was I.
“Yeah, she was here. Wanted to talk to Bear,” chimed Wolf, who was standing beside Chop. His arms decorated with colorful graphic tattoos of Jack the Ripper, along with the hookers he was famous for murdering in varying levels of dismemberment. It was some sick shit to put on your arms for the world to see, but it was great work.
Some of my best.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me she came looking for me?” Bear asked, his chest heaving with anger.
“First off, ’cause we were on lockdown while you were out doing fuck knows what with this one.” He waved his hand at me. “And ’cause I gave orders. This is still my club,” Chop said. “And the simple truth is that she ain’t club business, son. She ain’t no one’s ole lady, and she ain’t coming here to suck anyone’s cock. So I sent her packin’.”
“Yeah, you also told her I was fucking dead.” I said, feeling the rage building.
Chop had the fucking audacity to laugh. “So fucking what? I told her both of you were dead.”
“Fuck you!” Bear roared, launching himself at his father. If Pup weren’t in immediate danger, I’d of thrown caution to the wind and taken them out. Biker by biker. But this wasn’t my fight and even if it were, I didn’t have fucking time for it. “That ain’t your call to make.”
“Yes, it is my call! That’s what you don’t seem to fucking get! Every decision involving this club is my decision to make! I’m the fucking President, but you don’t seem to remember what that title means these days! I want to pass you the fucking gavel but you spit in my face every time you turn it down.”
Bear turned down being president?