Chapter Five
Never really thought I’d be the type of man to run from my problems, but here I am, kicked back at the clubhouse bar, getting high as a motherfucker with my brothers.
Joker rolled up a fat-ass blunt of that weed his little brother deals and started passing it around. I have no plans on going home tonight and need something to keep my mind off the fucked-up state my relationship with Birdie is heading toward. If I think about it too much, I’ll lose the bit of sanity I have left. The minuscule piece of thread holding it together unravels quicker than Tomcat gets off with his broads.
“My sister is gonna have you by the nuts if you keep running, Pope,” Cyanide says, climbing onto the barstool next to me and grabbing the beer Stinker, one of the club whores, sets in front of him.
“I like it when your sister has me by my nuts. It feels fucking good,” I mutter, taking another hit from the blunt before holding it out to him.
Cyanide brings it to his lips, sucking smoke deep into his lungs and holding it before pushing it out into a heavy cloud as he shakes his head. “We both know she ain’t gonna let you pull this shit for long before she’s storming in here raising hell and demanding answers.”
“Don’t have any to give her that she’s going to accept. You know that, brother.”
That attack on us last week was more than a warning. It was Clink’s fucking promise. As long as she belongs to me, he’s going to want her, and that bitch will do whatever he needs to get her. Her pretty sister too. If he ever gets his hands on her, I guaran-fucking-tee she’d never come back to me the same. Birdie and Valkyrie are tough broads, but the kind of man Clink is . . . they’d break at his hands.
I’ve been keeping my distance between us since then. Birdie doesn’t understand, and her voice conveys that each time she tries to get me to talk to her. Fucking kills me, but goddammit, I don’t know what else to fucking do right now.
Cyanide’s right. Birdie isn’t a woman to put up with someone disrespecting her for long. Her fire always makes my dick so hard, I could knock over the goddamn Eiffel Tower with it.
“Do you have a plan to protect them?” Cyanide asks.
I chuckle darkly and pull my hair down, shaking it out. “Oh, I do, but you won’t fucking like it.”
“Will it protect them?”
“Yeah, but Birdie’s going to get broken in the process.”
“Fuck,” he mutters, picking up his beer and draining it. “Tell me.”
I glance around, suddenly wary of prying eyes. Birdie has friends in here, and I can’t have this getting back to her, otherwise, it’s useless. To keep my Birdie breathing, I need to ensure she gets far away from me and this club.
“Let’s go to my office,” I say, grabbing my glass and the bottle of Devil’s Mark bourbon before heading out of the common room.
I drop to my seat and kick my feet up on top of the desk. I appear calmer than I am on the inside. Cyanide’s been my best friend since I was a sixteen-year-old punk rolling into his father’s house for the first time. He knows I’ve got acid crawling through my gut.
“You know they’re not going to leave the club and Coral Cay behind easily. This is their family,” I state, taking a sip from my glass.
“They’ll fight us like hellcats. Unless . . .” he trails off.
I nod, tipping my glass his way. “Unless we force them out.”
Cyanide sighs, running his hand over his beard in agitation. “How the fuck are we gonna do that?”
“Brutally.”
My voice is as empty as my fucking heart is.
“Goddammit,” he spits out, jumping to his feet and pacing the room.
How the fuck do I go on living when my heart is already icing over at the thought of what’s to come?
“Finish,” he orders.
“Watch it,” I growl, the fight itching under my skin.
Fuck. We’re both going to have to hit the ring at Tapping It to work this anger out of our veins.
Cyanide drops back into his seat with a groan. “Fuck. Sorry, Prez.”
“I’m going to have to betray her and it’s going to have to hit hard.” I drop my feet and sit up, resting my arms on my desk. “Loyalty has been the only boundary she’s asked of me.”
“Ah, fuck,” he groans, seeing where I’m heading.
“Don’t fucking want anyone but her, brother, but I gotta do a damn good job making her think I do.”
“Who?” he grits out, assuming I already have someone in mind.
Cyanide knows he’s got to betray her by having my back, which means he’ll lose both his sisters. Where Birdie goes, Valkyrie goes—the perks of them being fucking twins, I reckon.
“To save her, my brother, we’re going to have to betray her, and we’re both gonna go to hell for destroying that light.”
Cyanide grabs the bottle of Devil’s Mark from my desk and guzzles some down. “Then I guess we better take as many Steel Slayers with us as we can on the way down.”
“Saints never surrender, and Outlaws never die, baby,” I mutter before draining my glass.