Fight

Did I cause that?

Heat rushed to my face as he stopped the car and climbed out.

I got out of my side and rushed around, but not before a group of the guys were already on their way to greet the stranger.

“This is Tripp,” I called out. “He’s protecting me.”

“Protecting,” one of the guys - Crusher - said. “Like nothing we can’t fucking do ourselves.”

“Ease up,” a voice growled.

It was Stoney working through the crowd.

He stopped and stared at Tripp. He eyed him up and down. “You carrying?”

“Of course I am,” Tripp said.

“Give me your weapon.”

“Fuck yourself.”

I gasped. I grabbed for Tripp’s hand.

Nobody could talk to Stoney like that without getting a beating.

It was a little weird to see Stoney standing alone without Rocky next to him. The empty space actually bothered me a little. And it seemed to bother Stoney since he didn’t make a move at Tripp.

“Tough guy,” Stoney said. “I can respect that.” He stepped forward and grabbed for Tripp’s right hand. He lifted it. “Looks like your hand took a beating.”

“Yeah. You should have seen the other guy.”

That must have been Tripp’s standard line to tell everyone who asked about him fighting.

“Actually, I did,” Stoney said. “You took care of Harlan pretty good, didn’t you?”

Tripp looked right to left, taking note of the guys surrounding him. He took his hand away from Stoney and made fists.

“When you’re sitting on someone’s couch with a gun on your lap, what do you think is going to happen?” Tripp asked.

“You like to fight, huh?” Stoney asked.

“I’m good at it. It’s how I survive.”

“And now you’re protecting sweet innocent Winter here.”

“Just doing my job.”

Stoney inched forward. “Under other circumstances you’d be beaten to a pulp right now. I want to make that clear. But since my club is mourning and out for blood, I’m going to play a different card with you,Tripp. Why don’t we go sit at the table and have a talk about some things.”

“Was that an actual question or an order?” Tripp asked.

Stoney grinned. “You don’t give a fuck about anything, do you?”

“I’ve got nothing to lose,” Tripp said. “So what do I have to care about? I’m on borrowed time already, so, no, I don’t give a fuck about anything.”

There were a few tense seconds while both men remained quiet.

Stoney then turned and let Tripp walk alongside him. Nobody dared to move without orders from their President.

I watched as Tripp walked away from me.

In that moment, I felt completely alone, cold, and completely terrified.

Not for Tripp.

But for me.

I didn’t like it when he wasn’t around me.





9.


(Tripp)



I hated the idea of leaving Winter behind. It was my job to protect her, but I wanted more than that for her. Something inside me clicked and I wanted to find out who would be after her and to see if I could get her to safety. If I could find out who was after her, I could point the MC in that direction. Then I could call Aldo and see what he wanted me to do next.

Probably eat a bullet.

Inside the clubhouse, it was like a movie when someone enters and everything stops. When you hear the scratch of a record needle, a stray cough, and a thousand eyes beating upon you.

They were all alike. Wide shoulders, messy hair, drunk faces, anger in their eyes. Jeans with black leather cuts donning the Red Aces MC logo on their breasts and backs. They all stared at me like I didn’t belong, which I damn well didn’t. I wasn’t a biker. I wasn’t a mobster or gangster or anything. I lived on my own. I functioned with the notion that it was my heart on the line everyday and nothing else mattered.

“Want a beer?” the President of Red Aces asked me.

“I’m good,” I said.

“Fucking pussy,” someone muttered.

I turned, left hand balled up. I tried throwing the fist and the President was there to hook his arm into mine. He spun me around so we were facing each other.

“I’ll let it slide what happened with Harlan,” the President said, showing his teeth like a rabid dog. “But you’re not coming into my fucking clubhouse and throwing punches at my fucking guys. Understood?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“Good.”

He broke away and walked me to a door. He opened and I stepped inside. It was a long and narrow room. There was a large, dark wood table in the center with ten chairs, four on each side and one at the ends of the table. In the center was a carved skull and the Red Aces name on it. There was a desk in a corner with filing cabinets. No windows in the room. It had the lingering smell of body odor, leather, booze, and smoke.

“This is where we come to pray.”

“Good to know.”

“Tripp, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m Stoney.”

He offered his hand. I shook it.

“I’m the President of the Red Aces MC,” he said. “And you’re walking a fine line right now.”

“Is that so?”

“You don’t understand what you’re involved with.”

“I’m just doing my job.”