Chapter 24 #2
“But we didn’t break them, did we? I held back.”
I rolled my eyes. “Am I supposed to thank you?”
“Do what you want, but Hector wants to have a chat.”
I shook my head. “Let you lead me into slaughter? No way.”
“It’s just a talk tonight. Serpent’s honor.”
“How would you know what honor is?”
He huffed. “Yeah, fine. Whatever. You know Hector keeps his word, though. He wants to chat, and I think if you play along and play it cool, there might be a way out of this mess for you.”
That got my attention. I tilted my head. “I’m not going back to the club.”
“You made that clear.”
“So, what is this about, really?”
“It’s about negotiating your exit so that we can both benefit. What do you say?”
I hesitated. I could be rolling right into the lion’s den. But what choice did I have? If I didn’t go now, they’d come after me whenever they wanted. Hector was usually a man of his word. If all he wanted was a chat, maybe hearing him out was the lesser of two evils.
At the minimum, I’d get an idea of where his head was and how fucked I really was.
I nodded. “Okay. I’ll follow you there. But you better not be fucking me over, man.”
“Would I do that?” He winced at my expression. “Never mind. Don’t answer that. Just know that if we wanted you dead, we could have sent ten guys tonight instead of just one.”
That was true. It might seem odd that it was reassuring, but it was. Hector didn’t need to do his own dirty work. He had a whole biker club at his disposal.
I swung a leg over my bike. “Okay, lead the way.”
Puck headed northeast, and I followed him the two hours to the far side of Omaha.
The Serpents were in the same damn clubhouse as when I’d gone to prison.
It was essentially a biker bar, but they ran a bookie business out of it, taking bets on everything from illegal fights to the latest football or baseball games.
I parked beside Puck, next to a whole row of Serpent bikes, and really hoped I wasn’t signing my death warrant by following him inside.
Two guys sat at a scarred bar, drinks in front of them, while others sprawled on battered couches and armchairs, half of them under half-naked women and well on their way to drunk as fuck.
A big brute was fucking a woman over the edge of a pool table, a few of the guys giving him calls of encouragement.
Yeah, the Serpents were a really classy bunch.
When I stepped inside, I caught a few looks. A lot of guys I didn’t recognize, the newer joiners, looked curious.
Gunnar turned from the bar, eyes sparking.
He sported a new face tat, a serpent sliding out of his mouth.
Not an improvement on his ugly mug. He sneered, obviously pissed I hadn’t come home like a good boy.
Nacho looked wary, probably worried about what sort of trouble might break out. That made two of us.
Pierce broke away from the bar, though, and came over to give me a big hug and backslap. “Hey, brother. Are you coming home?”
I shook my head. “Can’t.”
He looked disappointed, his blue eyes as warm as they’d always been. “You know what happens if you don’t. Was it really so bad to have a family who had your back?”
“But they didn’t, did they? I went down for Puck’s bullshit.”
“Standing right here,” Puck said dryly.
“The club didn’t get me clear of the charges, and I did my time, but now here you all are, knocking at my door. I just want to live in peace. I’m done with the violence.”
“That’s a shame,” Hector said behind me. “Because I have a proposition for you, Knight. But if you’ve gone soft, we might be wasting our time.”
I turned, jaw clenched. Hector looked much the same as when I’d last seen him, but he’d buzzed off his dark hair, only a faint shadow fuzzed over his bald head. It made him look even more intimidating than he had when I was twenty-two.
“Knight’s not soft,” Puck said. “He gave me and the boys a hard time of it.”
Hector smirked. “It does seem his fists still work.” He cast a look toward Puck. “Might have been an improvement in Jelly’s case.”
Puck snickered. “Can’t argue there.”
“Fuck you, guys!” a big dude called, who I assumed was Jelly. I didn’t get a good look at him the night shit went down. But I was pretty sure he was the freight train who’d tackled me to the pavement.
The guys listening in all laughed, and Jelly cursed them some more.
Hector jerked his head toward the back of the club. “Come on, let’s talk where it’s quieter.”
He led me into the back room where a large rough-hewn table sat with six chairs around it. This was where members voted on important decisions.
“Been a while since you’ve been to Church, eh?” Hector said with a chuckle.
Church was what the mandatory meetings were called. But Hector had enough leverage on most of the guys to ensure all votes went his way.
This was where they’d decided whether to kill me to protect their secrets. They’d let me live once, so maybe they’d do it again.
Puck closed the door, closing out the noise of the club while Hector took a seat in his throne—an oversize chair at the head of the table.
I remained standing and crossed my arms. “So, what did you want to say to me?”
“So defensive.” Hector chuckled and glanced at Puck. “Did you piss in his Cheerios?”
“I think I did that the other night. With Jelly and Landry.”
“Ah. Yes. That.” Hector nodded. “Unfortunate. You know how it goes, Knight. We invited you back. You turned down our generous offer, despite going AWOL for months.”
“I did seven years in prison,” I said. “I paid my dues. I want to live my life how I choose now.”
“You didn’t go to prison for this club. Hell, I don’t know what the fuck you were doing out there, playing cowboys and robbers with the fucking Reapers. But it wasn’t on my orders.”
I glared over at Puck, who shrugged. Obviously, he’d never chosen to fill in Hector.
“I was trying to rescue this shithead.” I waved toward Puck. “He’s the one who should have gone down for it.”
“I wasn’t stupid enough to let them catch me,” Puck shot back.
Hector waved a hand. “Okay, let’s not get sidetracked. You went down, and you did your time without ratting on the club. I respect that.”
“And you show it by having me jumped.”
He took out a pack of cigarettes and fished a lighter from his pocket. “Want a smoke?”
“No, thanks.”
He tucked the cig between his lips and lit up, taking a long draw in before blowing out smoke. “So, here’s the offer,” he said, cigarette still dangling between his lips. “We have a big fight coming up. We could use a big payday. We need to raise 50 large in a hurry. You’re our best bet.”
“I’m not coming back. I already told Puck that.”
He nodded, puffing smoke. “Right, right. You’re done with this life. Blah-blah-blah. That means we have to give you another beatdown. Maybe one you won’t walk away from.”
I tensed. “I’d rather take my chances getting jumped out than being a prisoner to this club.”
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, all the pussy, beer, and power you want. Such a hardship.”
He had no idea.
The pussy was not fun when you were gay and had to hide it from the guys. Women threw themselves at me and Puck, and we’d had to put on a good show. Even if I wasn’t gay, I wouldn’t want to live that way, treating women like expendable property to be passed around.
The thought of it turned my stomach. I could never go back to that.
“Are we done here?” I asked.
He pushed out of his chair, pissed now. “No, we’re not fucking done. Show some goddamned respect.”
Hector was a mercurial guy. He could be easygoing one minute and a fountain of rage the next. I needed to tread carefully, no matter how pissed I was with these guys.
“No disrespect meant,” I said. “You’re a damn good club prez. I’m just a little unsure of what we’re doing here. Why didn’t you just send some guys to jump me again?”
“Seems a waste of good fists,” he said. “I need a fighter. You’re the best fighter the club ever had.”
“But I’m not coming back to the club.”
“We could jump you out, but neither of us have much to gain by that. Give me one fight, Knight. Then we can part ways as friends.”
“Just like that?” I asked, suspicious. “You won’t ask me to fight again?”
“Just the one fight against the reigning champ.” He lifted two fingers to pull the cigarette from his mouth. “You win, then you’ll get me that 50k. That’s enough to buy your way out.”
“I haven’t fought like that in a while,” I said carefully. “What if I lose?”
He tsked. “Well, then, I guess you’d better die in the ring, Knight, or we’ll finish the job.”
I blew out a breath. So it still came down to me fighting for my life.
My odds against one man—even a brutal fighting champ—were better than my odds against the whole club. I really didn’t have a choice.
“Fine. One fight. I win, and I walk away.”