I stared at the reaper on the wall, the glass of the bottle crunching under my boots as I made my way to the wall. I ran my fingers over the paint that declared this the home of Satan’s Knights and then I reared my fist back and screamed as it connected with the wall.
I heard the door open behind me but I was too engrossed in demolishing the reaper, an image of something I thought I was supposed to live for. So why did it feel like the reason I was living just walked out the door and straight out of my life?
I felt strong hands wrap around my arms and pull me back, pulling me away from wreaking havoc on the devil that stole everything from me.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Blackie hollered, as he slammed my back against the wall.
“Let me go,” I seethed.
“Like you let her go?” Bones added, walking up behind Blackie. “What is wrong with you, man?”
I pushed Blackie’s hands off me causing him to stumble backward and scowled at Bones.
“You’re an asshole, you know that?” Bones taunted. “You just threw away the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to you and for what? Because you’re a pussy!”
I charged at him, rearing back my fist and letting it connect with the side of his jaw.
He gripped my cut, and slammed me back against the wall, his fist pounding against my ribs.
“Truth hurts, brother,” he hissed, as I pushed him off me and punched him again, aiming for his nose this time.
“Thought you’d be happy, me out of the way you’re free to claim her for yourself. That’s what you want isn’t it? Been dying to stick your dick in my girl since the moment you laid eyes on her,” I roared, as I threw him onto the pool table.
He kicked off the table, charging his head into my stomach and pummeled me to the floor.
“Someone will claim her, douche bag,” he clipped. “Girls like that will bounce back, move on and fall in love. Some other man will gladly grab what you threw away, only he’ll hang on tight, and that kid of yours? He’ll call someone else daddy,” he barked.
I lifted my head from the floor and drilled him with a cold stare.
“Looks like you’re applying for the job,” I spoke through clenched teeth.
“I would in a fucking heartbeat but you’re my brother, and that shit means something to me,” he said, releasing his grip on me. “Wake up, man. Whatever it is you think you’re doing, I’m telling you you’re doing it all wrong. Don’t do this, don’t let them go.”
“I’m no good for them,” I growled, trying to sit up.
“Then make yourself better,” he demanded, holding out his hand toward me.
I took his hand and pulled him down beside me, wedging my forearm against his throat as I leaned over him.
“Mind your fucking business, Bones. And do yourself a fucking favor and don’t bring this shit up again, because so help me God, next time you do I’ll cut you, brother,” I promised, as I dropped him onto the ground and stepped over his body.
I know why Blackie tries to numb himself from the hell he lives.
The pain is unbearable.
The dull ache in my chest that had been haunting me, turned into a sharp spear, twisting and turning a hundred times over.
I lost my Kitten.
I’ll never know Pea.
And I just pissed on some twenty odd years of friendship with Bones.
I was on a roll.
I had walked away from a lot of people in my life, gave up my birth right, but none of it hurt the way walking away from Lauren and our baby did.
I hadn’t lied when I said I never wanted to be someone’s man, or someone’s father. Now that I held those two titles, even for a short while, was everything to me.
Everything I no longer had.
But losing them, kissing goodbye my rights to my child and Lauren, would be worth it because they’d be safe.
Safe from me.
Safe from my enemies.
Safe from the reaper.
Chapter Thirty
Jack slammed the gavel repeatedly against the wooden table trying to reign us in but we were congratulating the nomad’s that had just patched into our charter. After the Red Dragons attacked Pop’s shooting range, Jack sent Pipe and Wolf back into the field, ordering them not to come back to the Dog Pound without nomads worthy to wear the Brooklyn patch on their cut. Deuce, Stryker, Linc and Cobra were officially voted to sit at our table, and not a moment too soon because aside from the vote on whether they should wear our patch or not, Jack called Church to discuss how he planned to retaliate against the Chinese.
“For the love of God, would you bitches shut the fuck up so we can discuss business,” Jack grunted, throwing the gavel across the table and rubbing his temples.
That got our attention, and we fell silent as we gave our pissed off president our undivided attention.
“I swear to God, I question if you jerk offs even have dicks,” he muttered.
Wolf grabbed his crotch in defense.
“Want me to whip out the old anaconda?”