“Honest?” I bellow. Rounding the table, I grab his head and bounce it off the wood. His nose explodes on impact, blood squirting everywhere. “I have a strong tolerance for your fucking bullshit considering what a fuck up you are, but I won’t have you getting high on club supply. I sure as shit know you didn’t pay for that shit. And the last thing I’ll tolerate in my club is a fucking junkie. You’re useless to your brothers like this.”
“I’m sorry, Prez. I can’t stop. I fucking need it.”
“Get this fucker out of here and into rehab before I take him to ground.”
“Boss.” Jameson signals for me to follow him to my office.
“We done?” I ask my brothers, who all grunt an affirmative. “Church’s over,” I snap, chucking the gavel across the table. Hog fucked on dope is unacceptable. His brothers should have noticed this shit and brought it to me long before it got this outta hand.
“What is it?” I ask Jameson as I sink down in my chair behind my father’s desk. It’ll be one year next weekend. His death came outta nowhere. If he had warning, he didn’t tell anyone. It rocked the club, but we bounced back and came together tighter than ever. We patched Glen in, long overdue. Hog earned his colors, taking the rap for a bust while out of state doing a job for another chapter, that’s the kind of loyalty you want from a brother. Now he’s next to useless high as a kite on drugs.
“Drew’s aunt died,” Jameson announces, jarring me from my thoughts.
Fuck. Just hearing Drew’s name sends a wave of nostalgia coursing through me. Her taste, smile, devastation. “Make sure her funeral is paid for and put an announcement out so her relatives know.” I rub a hand across the back of my neck, trying not to show the way her name leaves me in ruin.
“On it, Prez. But you should know…her death…”
“What?” I ask, not liking his confounded expression.
“It was messy. Murdered in her house—tied up, assaulted, slit throat.”
What the fuck? “Do the police know who did it?”
“Nah. Apparently she’s the second victim over the last couple months.”
I sit forward, steepling my fingers on the desk. “Someone in our city is killing women?” Of all the women, Drew’s aunt?
He shrugs. “Looks that way. You want us on this?”
“Put the word out. Everyone keeps an ear to the ground, we let our presence be felt.”
“On it, Prez.”
Will Drew even see an announcement? How the fuck will she react to her aunt being murdered? Will she think it was the club? How much more does this girl have to lose? We’re a fucked up pair, both parentless. That’s some fucked up fate. My head swims with visions of her, bringing versions of her life swirling.
Wherever the fuck she is, I hope she’s happy. I searched for her—shit, I’m still searching for her. I need to know she’s out there living her life. Visions of kids running around looking just like her and some smart asshole wearing a wedding ring causes a fiery rage inside me. I’m on my feet, my fist burrowed into the plaster of the wall before I realize I punched it.
Wringing my hand to alleviate the burning of my knuckles, I go through to the bar to find Gracie working. She’s been a regular here for a few years and eventually took over what Barb struggled to keep up with. Good woman, biker bitch through and through, with a soft spot for both Rage and Jameson.
Her eyes flick to me, her brow crooking, and a beer is placed out for me in the next breath.
“You okay, son?” Uncle Joe croaks from where he’s polishing the bar.
“Usual shit. Why the fuck you playing maid?” I scoff.
“Just earning my keep like the rest.”
“You can come sit on my dick if you wanna act like a bitch,” some prospect bellows from across the room, earning himself an elbow to the temple from Rage, knocking him out cold. “Respect is lacking all around lately,” I growl.
“You want to talk, son?” Joe asks, ignoring the shit going on behind him.
“If I do, I’ll let you know, Uncle Joe.”
Rage gets to his feet, coming to stand beside me. I made him VP once I took over as president. He’s loyal, and a good brother. I never forgot him taking my grief when my mother passed. This club needs brothers like him.
“Jameson said someone’s out there butchering women.” His tone is always low and deadly.
I take a swig from my beer. “Not sure what the hell is going on, but I don’t like it. Too close to home.”
“I’ll get Ice to see what our inside cops know.” Ice is our sergeant at arms. He protects the club’s interest and monitors our laws, making sure the brothers uphold them. He’ll be the one stripping Hog of his patch if he doesn’t clean up. He’s also the nephew of the chief of police.