“What? No, man. When would I even…?”
Hammer pulled on Torcher’s T-shirt and slammed his forehead into the bastard’s nose, and while the crunch it gave was satisfying, the damage wouldn’t be nearly as extreme as in Hammer’s violent fantasies earlier. But it didn’t matter.
Thiswould have to do.
Torcher dropped behind the bar with blood drizzling down his mouth, and when Hammer maneuvered around the counter, he found Torcher on his knees, with confusion passing over his features. “What—”
Hammer placed his foot on the fucker’s chest and shoved him back before tipping the beer glass and splashing all of its contents over Torcher’s face. “Never do that again.”
And Hammer wasnottalking about the spitting-that-didn’t-happen.
Wasp woke from his stupor and rushed in. “That’s enough, brother.”
Dex smirked into his beer without a word, but his eyes met Hammer’s for a split second, and the bloodthirsty twinkle in them made Hammer long for an honest conversation without all this tension.
But how could he take Dex with him to search for Ryker after last time? What if this was the last chance to hunt the fucker down?
Worse still, did his reluctance mean that he didn’t trust Dex after all they’ve been through? And if he wasn’t willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, how was he to invite Dex into his life and into his bed again?
So despite the burning need deep in his gut, Hammer gave Dex the briefest nod, turned on his heel, and left just as Finn helped a coughing Torcher sit up.
Chapter 29 – Dex
Roswasagenius.The demonic creature he’d created out of scrap metal was over six-foot long and reached out from the sturdy frame making up the base of the sculpture with a mouth full of razorblades and nails. His eyes were old motorcycle headlights, and the torso incorporated an old bike the club had just standing around and gathering dust.
Once the end result was hung behind the new bar counter, its presence transformed the shabby interior of the clubhouse into a post-apocalyptic space where uncovered piping and bare cement walls mingled with real art.
Not that Dex knew all that much about art, but one thing was obvious—the sculpture was fucking cool. Shane stood next to his boyfriend, puffing his chest like a peacock about to emit its call. Ros was an elegant sight when not wearing his usual work getup that consisted of dirty overalls and his long wavy hair gathered in a bun on top of his head. He wore all black for the occasion, and his hair cascaded onto the leather jacket which, judging by its size, he must have borrowed from Shane. Eyes darkened with kohl completed the biker-inspired look.
The party had started two hours ago, but with booze being served to everyone present, the artwork was no longer in focus, and the low light offered ample opportunity for conversation, dancing, and more as the crowd of hangarounds and friends grew.
“I just wish Hammer could see it already,” Dex said after checking that none of the guests gathered for the inauguration of the new bar slash Hammer’s birthday was within earshot.
Today had been a clusterfuck. No matter how much Dex had tried to hide his longing, pain, and insecurity with smiles, in the end anger had gotten the best of him, and the bitter words he’d spat out as a result couldn’t be taken back.
Shane glanced at him and scooped Ros with one arm to bring him into the conversation. “Why isn’t he here?”
“I don’t know. He’s not answering his phone, and Lion told me some vague bullshit about him being away on ‘club business’. Why tonight? He’s angry with me, and I deserve that, but I wish he was more clear about what he wants.” So maybe he was oversharing a bit, but he was too upset to care.
His gaze darted to Lion, who sat on a leather sofa alongside his wife, and chatted to Frank, who wore his only blazer for the occasion. He’d paired it with worn jeans, and a T-shirt with a permanent bleach mark at the hemline. He looked surprisingly attractive, though Dex didn’t want to think about his uncle in such categories. But it wasn’t like he’d be finding a partner in this pit of straightness.
Ros cleared his throat, swaying softly to the bold music. “I’m not in the loop.”
“They’re on break,” Shane clarified.
Ros’s bright eyes settled on Dex, his expression a mix of compassion and pity. “Ooh… I’m so sorry, Dex. Is it the club thing? Too much for him?”
Dex’s blood boiled. What if the fuckup at the cabin had been only an excuse for Hammer to dump him when things got too real? “Nah, he just needs to mull over some shit. It’s my fault, really.”
Shane frowned. “Did you cheat on him? He’s a dangerous guy, you can’t just—”
“I didn’t cheat!” Dex raised his voice before lowering it when several heads turned his way. “Why does everyone think I’m the worst? I try, okay? I’ve been celibate for over a week, and I’m so horny even the pickles in our fridge are starting to look like dicks, but I didn’t do anything, ‘cause I’m trying to be better!”
Ros scowled, but his face brightened when some of the scantily clad hangarounds shouted from the other side of the interior, praising his work.
As if they knew anything about art. Dex was no expert, but Rosen had previously flattered Dex by saying that he has an“instinctual understanding of the idea behind his sculpture”.
“It wouldn’t be cheating. You’re on break, remember?” Shane asked.