Chapter 35
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
RATTLER
Fucking women. Fuck them all. Fuck Ames for turning on me, and fuck the club girls for exposing my secrets.
How dare they speak of my sexual performance in front of her?
Okay, I’m guilty in what they accused me off, but that’s what they’re there for.
To service me, not the other way around.
Surely even those bitches should be able to see I would be different with my old lady?
Should have fucked her back at the cabin. Then she’d have known they were talking shit. I’d been taking it slow, being a gentleman due to her inexperience. But fuck if that hasn’t come back to bite me in the ass.
I’m so angry, one of my crutches slides out from under me as I take the stairs too fast. The clattering draws attention as it bounces down and hits the floor. Heads spin around to look at me, while I’m ignominiously hanging onto the rail. Thank fuck they look concerned rather than laugh.
Quickly moving toward me, Paint picks up my crutch and hands it over. I take it, and make the rest of the way down more carefully.
“You alright, Brother?” he asks.
For an answer, I just glare.
“Uh oh.” He chuckles. “Trouble in paradise, yeah? She turned you down.”
I hadn’t even had a chance to ask her the question.
She’d jumped in with both feet and had made it clear she didn’t want to be married to me.
Ignoring him, I look around for one of my targets.
The patching-in party is in full swing, music blaring, brothers drinking.
I push my way through the throng, and then I spy her.
My rage tints everything red, and all I can see is Trixie, laughing with one of the brothers as if she hasn’t a care in the world, acting as if she hadn’t just destroyed my marriage.
Oblivious to anyone else, I launch myself toward her, getting right up into her face, and shouting so loud my voice can be heard over everything else.
“You fuckin’ whore. What the fuck business was it of yours to tell Ames what I’m like in bed? I regret ever touching your skank ass.”
I barely have time to register it’s Freak’s fist that’s coming to me, before I feel blinding pain in my face, my crutches slipping out from under me as I fall over backward, slamming my already concussed head on the floor.
For a moment, all I see are stars. The shock’s made all the breath leave my body, and for a moment my lungs can’t take in air, then, finally, I gasp.
Slowly sights and sounds come back into focus.
“Freak!” That’s Trixie.
“Get your fucking’ hands off me,” Freak roars. As I squint upward, I see Tempest and Winchester trying to hold the enforcer back. “I’m going to fuckin’ kill him.”
“Freak! Stand down!” But it seems that even Prez can’t calm him. I realise I’m getting up and personal with one of our enforcer’s insane freak outs. Even in my enraged state, I can see how that’s not going to end well for me if he gets loose.
“Fuckin’ contain him,” Prez yells, as Freak gets a hand free and reaches into his cut for a weapon.
Is he going to shoot me?
Even as I wonder whether I should prepare to meet my maker, Woody joins the fray, and somehow the four men manage to get Freak’s hands zip-tied behind him — though Saint gets a bloody nose when the enforcer rears back and head butts him in the face.
Then Tempest knocks his feet from under him, and while he and the bleeding VP pin him to the ground with their bodies, Winchester sneaks in and gets a zip-tie around his ankles.
“What the fuck is going on?” Prez roars.
His voice is overly loud in the room where the music has been switched off and all conversation has stopped.
I realise then, everyone is looking between me and Freak.
Prez looks down at where I’m lying, resembling a turtle stranded on my back.
And just like the reptile, there’s no way I can right myself. “Explain, Rat.”
I try to pull my head up, even that’s an effort. “She,” I raise an unsteady finger and point it at Freak’s old lady, “gave Ames intimate details of what I was like in bed. And she was not complimentary about my performance.”
Freak stops struggling to get free for a moment, his eyes blazing with fury, and looks up toward Trixie. “You did what?”
Trixie blushes red and looks really uncomfortable. “It wasn’t like that.”
“You’re lying,” I spit out.
Freak tries to roll himself toward me. Tempest and Saint pull him back.
Trixie starts talking fast. “Ames admitted she and Rat hadn’t yet fucked. The club girls overheard and offered their opinion. They just mentioned I could corroborate it. I didn’t start it. They did.”
Prez barks out. “Star, Heaven, Sweetie, get your asses over here.”
“Fuck, Prez. Can you give me a moment?” yells Words from somewhere over near the pool table.
Sweetie approaches. She jerks her thumb over her shoulder. “Heaven’s just stepped out with Piston, and Star’s…”
“With Words, yeah I heard.” Prez narrows his eyes on her. “Did you talk to Ames about Rat?”
“Well, yeah,” the dumb bitch answers. “Ames is a sweet girl. We just warned her Rat leaves a woman wanting in bed.”
Heaven comes running in, followed by Piston still fastening his pants. Someone must have run to get him. She tears over and places her hand over Sweetie’s mouth. Then she looks up at Prez. “She doesn’t know what she’s saying.”
His voice is menacingly low. “Oh, I think she does.” He glances behind him and sees Words marching over with a scared-looking Star. “You three been discussing brothers’ performances with an ol’ lady?’
“Just Rat,” Sweetie manages to get out from behind Heaven’s hand.
“And Trixie?” He stares at the enforcer’s old lady, while addressing his words to Heaven.
Heaven grimaces and looks down. “We just said Trixie could confirm it as well.” She seems fascinated by her shoes. “She didn’t actually say anything.”
Suddenly there’s a snort from behind me. “Look at Rat getting a scorecard from the whores. Looks like you failed to make the grade, Bro.” It’s fuckin’ Stalker. He’s on my shit list for real. Just wait until I’m healed. I’ll make him suffer.
But Prez gets in first, turning on Stalker. “And you’re happy they’re keeping notes? And discussing us openly?” He grabs Star by the back of her neck. “You got anything to say about me?”
“You’re great…”
“That was a rhetorical fuckin’ question,” he snarls. At her look of confusion, he adds, “I didn’t want you to answer.” He rubs at his temples. “The three of you, get yourselves back to the barn and we’ll decide what to do with you.”
“You… you’re, not throwing us out, are you?” Heaven seems to cotton on to how serious this is.
Prez doesn’t relent, his glare fixed. “Whores have no business even talking to ol’ ladies, let alone discussing brothers with them.”
Woody steps forward, his brow creased. I suspect he’s worried about losing the whores’ services if they’re thrown out of the club. “With all due respect, Prez. Ames isn’t an ol’ lady.”
And might never be. Thanks to them.
Prez turns and stares at Woody. “So any woman, any of us might bring to the club. You want them,” he waves his hand toward the club girls, “to give them a rundown on how you perform in the sack? How long or thick your dick is and what you can do with it, and how long you last? Give you marks out of fuckin’ ten for effort? ”
Woody lets out a hefty sigh. “Put like that, Prez. No.”
He turns back to the whores. “Get out of here now. Your services are not wanted tonight. We’ll discuss your future and let you know what we decide.” After the three of them sidle out, Prez looks down at Freak, who now seems to be in control of himself. “What do you want to do?”
He glares at Trixie. “Even if you weren’t involved, you should have shut that shit down.” He takes in a shuddering breath. “I can’t cope with you right now. Get up to our room and stay there.”
“Er, Ames is in your room,” I remind him. “And I kinda locked the door. She wanted to run out, and it’s too dangerous for her to leave the compound.”
The expression he turns on me screams that I’m not yet forgiven. Then he moves his attention back to his old lady again. “Sounds like a plan. Dum?” he calls out to the prospect trying hard to look like he’s minding his own business behind the bar.
“I’m Dee, but no matter,” he hurriedly adds.
“Take Trixie up to our room, and lock her in with Ames.” He shakes his head, and looks at me. “You don’t call my wife a whore ever again. But maybe she can make amends. Trix might be able to talk some sense into your woman.”
Sending a worried glance toward her man, accepting her fate, Trixie lets Dee lead her out of the clubroom, her feet heavy as she ascends the stairs.
It’s only then I realise what damage I’d done.
It had been hard for Freak to take an ex-club girl as his old lady.
What I’ve said tonight has opened old wounds again.
I glance at him as Tempest cuts through the zip ties binding his feet and hands. “I’m sorry, Freak.”
“Yeah, you fuckin’ should be.”
“Get Rat up, Tempest. I want to talk to him,” Prez requests.
It’s not only Tempest, but Winchester too who help me to my feet.
While they are still supporting me and before I take back possession of my crutches, I rub the back of my head ruefully.
Then, when I’m mobile again, I follow Bullseye out of the clubroom, and into his office.
He helps me into a chair, then frowns as he looks behind him.
The sergeant-at-arms, VP, and enforcer have followed us in.
Prez raises a brow.
Saint shrugs. “Just want to hear what Rat has to say.”
I do have something to get off my chest. Turning my head, I stare up at Freak. “I’m sorry,” I start, “I wasn’t thinking.”
Freak shakes his head, then does something I don’t expect, he holds out his hand for me to shake.
“I’m sorry, too. Facts are facts. Much as we want the past rewritten, shit doesn’t work like that.
Shouldn’t have fuckin’ hit you, Brother.
” Giving a twisted grin, he adds, “Should have waited until you were healed.” I shake the hand he’s offered, and snort.
His grin disappears. “Trix should have shut that shit down. Shouldn’t need to remind her. ”
“Sounds like she didn’t have much choice,” Bullseye defends her. “Once the words were said, there was no taking them back. It was the club girls who got out of hand.”
“You really suggesting we throw them out?” Tempest frowns.
“Fuck no,” Bullseye laughs. “I’d have a fuckin’ riot on my hands. I’ll just let them stew on the possibility for the night.”
“They tried to stir shit when Pippa first arrived,” Saint purses his lips. “I, for one, wonder why we keep them around.” I find myself wanting to high five him. If I have Ames, I won’t have a use for them either.
If, I remind myself.
“‘Cause most of us don’t have pussy on tap,” Tempest objects as he answers the VP’s question.
Bullseye reaches into the cupboard in his desk, pulls out a bottle and five shot glasses. He tops them all up with whisky, but pauses before passing one my way. “You going to be good with this? On your meds?”
I reach for it. “Don’t give a fuck, Prez. Need a drink after dealing with Ames.”
“She really wants to leave?” he asks.
I start to nod, then regret it. “Asked me for fuckin’ money, and to use my phone, presumably to call a cab.” Then I add too the explanation. “Her purse is still up at the cabin. As well as her clothes.”
“I’ll get Dee up there tomorrow. Bring yours and her shit back.”
I raise my chin in appreciation. After draining my whisky, Prez tops it back up, then I tell him, “I’m worried, if she leaves, she’ll go see Satin.”
“Whoa!” The VP holds up his hands. “Satin probably betrayed her.”
“I’m not certain Ames is convinced of that.” I explain.
Bullseye sits back, he looks like he’s savouring his whisky for a moment, before he straightens again. “We got sidetracked by Lancelot’s patching-in party. Stone’s still on ice. Maybe that’s another question we need to ask him.” He narrows his eyes at me. “You up for that, Rat?”
“You fuckin’ bet,” I reply.