They weren’t that progressive.
But for all the power and strength Jagger had seen from the Old Ladies, they didn’t need a chance at a patch. They already had ones of their own.
It didn’t matter who Troy wanted to fuck in that moment.
It mattered that he spoke at all when the entire club was silenced by the reality of what was happening. Which rule did they break? Did they let a rat breathe? Or did they harm a woman of a patched member?
“We do what we need to,” Jagger said as Hansen opened his mouth, unable to let the guilt for condemning Caroline to fall on Hansen’s shoulders. He’d take that shit on. He’d do what needed to be done. But it’d haunt him. And Jagger was already haunted. It was on him.
“What the fuck does that mean, we do what we need to?” Claw demanded, slamming his hands down on the table. The same hands that had circled around Caroline’s throat not twelve hours ago. The same hands that would’ve kept squeezing, that would’ve ended her fucking life if he hadn’t ripped him off her.
The mere thought of it had Jagger needing to take out his piece and put a bullet in the fucker’s brain. His brother’s brain. At the table.
That’s how turned upside down he was.
What Caroline was doing to him.
And she was obviously doing something to Claw too, if he was ready to protect her, hours after he’d been intent on burying her.
Jagger met his eyes. “You know what the fuck it means,” he said.
“You’re fucking crazy,” Claw hissed.
“He’s not fucking crazy,” Swiss put in, voice cold. “He’s doing right by the club.”
“No, he’s not,” Claw said carefully, accusing Jagger with his eyes.
“You know that what’s right for the club sometimes doesn’t line up with what’s right in any other way. It’s how this club survives. It’s how we survive. I’ll do it myself,” he said, bile filling his mouth as he spoke.
He wasn’t sure if it was because he was lying or telling the truth.
How far had he really gone?
Hansen stared at him after his words. The entire table silenced.
He’d never received such a look from his best friend turned president, it was as if Hansen didn’t recognize him. Or maybe he was just recognizing him for the man he was tired of pretending he wasn’t.
“She’s your…”
“Past,” he finished for Hansen and tried to convince himself.
Hansen gave him a hard look. “While she’s here in the present, she’s the club’s problem now. We can’t let this stand. I won’t. Not with everything going on.”
Ugliness hung in the air. Ugliness had hung for a while. Since the clubhouse turned into a fucking crypt for almost the entire chapter.
Ordinarily, a case like this would’ve been clear cut. The club took care of it with a single bullet and a deep unmarked grave.
They weren’t pausing because she was a woman.
Men didn’t like it, fuck, most of the club abhorred violence against women. Innocent women. They treated women the same as men when they became their enemies. Women could be just as dangerous as men.
More so.
“I won’t let it stand, either,” Hansen said. “Nor will I handle this how we would with a rat. Because this situation is unique. And I don’t have a problem killing a woman who’s guilty in our eyes, but I don’t think she is guilty of trying to damage the club.”
Swiss slammed his hand down on the table. “She’s a fuckin’ reporter,” he hissed. “That’s one step down from a pig.”
Hansen regarded him coolly. “And I’m your president, and I’m saying that we’re not killing her. Because I don’t think she deserves to die. Anyone want to challenge me on that?” He looked around the table before he locked eyes with Jagger.
Jagger knew his best friend was doing this for a number of reasons. Because he was telling the truth and he didn’t think she was guilty enough to die. He also knew that he was saving Jagger having to take up arms against his brothers who tried to lay a hand on Caroline.
Because Hansen knew him.
He knew the words before were nothing but empty air.
Jagger knew it too. He would kill every last one of his brothers in arms, in everything but blood if they tried to lay a hand on her.
“Obviously we’re not gonna kill her,” Claw piped in after a long silence. “She’s not only too pretty to kill, but a good distraction. So what the fuck are we gonna do with her?”
Hansen looked around the table once more. “She wants a story. We’ll give her a story.” He paused. “But first, we needa make sure she knows her punishment for thinkin’ about betraying the club. And maybe she’ll think twice about doin’ it again. Because no matter who she is, to anyone, we don’t give second chances.”