8. Venom
8
VENOM
I slam my empty shot glass down on the wooden table in front of me. Toker and Slash follow suit. Isaiah is on bar duty tonight with our youngest prospect since Fret is entertaining us with his guitar, so he grabs the bottle of twenty-five-year-old Chivas and runs over to us to refill our glasses before we can growl at him to hurry the fuck up.
Once we’ve thrown back the next round in one go, Slash shakes his head and holds his hand over both our glasses. Arms folded behind my neck, I lean back in my seat and glare at the ceiling, trying to stop myself from biting his head off for being a good friend.
“Maybe you should call it a night?” he advises at a level that only I can hear.
Bouncing my leg, the heel of my boot knocking on the concrete floor in a haphazard beat that telegraphs how close I am to snapping, I mentally work my way down the list of things I’d like to spit at him to put him into a bad mood that matches my own. It’s wrong. It’s not the mature way of handling the tidal wave of emotions trying to knock me on my arse, but it’s all I have. Still, as magnanimously as I can manage, I shed the nastier reminders of past hurts that only a best friend would know and settle on a reasonably benign retort. “Maybe you should get fucked?”
Toker chuckles. I lower my chin to hit him with a ‘shut the fuck up’ look. He lifts his hands, palms up, as if he’s surrendering. A feral growl that rumbles from my chest is my way of telling him that I see straight through his feigned submission.
He’s being ridden as hard by his demons as I am by mine.
And the stubborn fucker is looking to oblige them with a fight.
If Lily wasn’t asleep in the same building, I’d happily indulge him.
“What?” he asks in a mocking voice when I scowl at him harder. When my right foot continues to bounce and my stare remains levelled at his face, Lily’s cousin scratches the back of his head and shrugs. “Come on, Venom… you can’t blame a brother for trying. A quick grapple around the bar would help us both burn off some steam.”
“Either of you start a fight, and I’ll end it with a bullet in ya… head or arse. Doesn’t really matter to me right now.” Fret’s hand clamps down on my shoulder from behind. I jerk out of his grip, spinning in my seat, ready to give him a mouthful. He narrows his eyes at me, hitting me with a familiar look of annoyance that I’ve seen on his big sister’s face more than once, before offering in a tight voice, “Anna’s screamin’ in her sleep… Dad’s barred the door to keep Charlie out.”
“Fuck.” I’m on my feet in the next heartbeat. Under my breath, I mutter through my anger at the man I call prez, “Gonna shoot that prick before daylight comes… can fuckin’ feel it comin’.”
Everyone in the bar scuttles out of my way as I storm toward the hallway that leads to the ten single man bedrooms situated at the back of the compound. Made of grey cinder block that’s been painted a dozen or so times in the Shamrocks’ fifty-odd year history, the clubhouse is a rabbit warren. With extensions added when the MC expanded past the original six founding members as new prospects were patched in, the OGs sons joined, and then my generation aged up, the walls are rich with history, dripping with memories, stained by bloodshed, and form the rib cage of the MC.
At the heart of it all, protected by the thick walls of our perimeter fence, is family.
Brothers by blood. Brothers by patch. Brothers by choice.
Fathers. Mothers. Husbands. Old ladies. Uncles. Sons.
Only two daughters in all that time…
Scarlett Cherub. Brutus’ dead wife and daughter of our second road captain.
And my Lily, our little Cherub, Brutus and Scarlett’s firstborn.
They are the only two women from the bloodline of the founding six.
“Let me through,” I demand when I’m forced to a halt at the entrance to the sleeping quarters.
“No. No. No. No. No. ”
Lily’s shrieks reach me, tightening my chest, ramping up my guilt over leaving her. After she threw her disgust at me for keeping Alex’s release a secret, I knew I had to respect her request for space. She’s not the kind of woman who chucks a fit without a reason, so even though I knew it could backfire if she got caught up in her head, I capitulated.
It was a mistake.
I deserve her anger.
She doesn’t deserve my continual fuck ups.
“Prez’s orders.” Toker’s dad, Duke, folds his arms over his barrel chest. Although his posture is telling me to stop, the way he avoids my eyes says that he’s not totally on board with Brutus’ decision to keep everyone away from Lily. “Said she needs to work through it herself. That it’s the only way for her to get over it.”
“Yeah?” The edge in my voice forces him to lock his gaze on mine. “You think that’s somethin’ Scarlett would agree with? Think she’d appreciate you leavin’ your niece to suffer alone?”
Throwing his dead sister in his face is low, but I don’t care. If he doesn’t move, I’m going to start swinging, and if the heat from the bodies crowding behind me in the doorway is an accurate indication, Brutus’ faction is well outnumbered.
“Fuck’s sake, Uncle Benji,” Wyatt, Lily’s middle brother, snarls from over my shoulder. “Have a heart… let Venom through, at least.”
Indecision flickers across our road captain’s face, then his eyes harden. He moves to the side and jerks his chin for me to step around him. With a scornful shake of my head, my displeasure at the time he took for him to make the right choice clear, I take a stride forward. Duke grabs hold of my upper arm to stop me.
“Changed ya mind?” I bark. “’Cause I’ll happily change it back for you.”
“Nah.” He presses his lips together, apparently wedged between his desire to speak up and the loyalty that’s been drummed into all of us since birth. “Not sure what’s goin’ on here, but I don’t like it.”
“Take a number,” Slash tells him as he comes to stand on my six.
“Then get in line,” Toker adds when he takes up his spot on my other side.
I dart a glance over my shoulder. Behind me stands the three remaining Mayberry brothers—since Sander is in Brisbane for a basketball game—plus Cub, Hunter, and four other third-generation sons who’ve recently earnt their top rockers. Even our prospects have chosen my side. Right now, with eight old-timers filling the hallway between me and Brutus, who’s guarding the bedroom where Lily has finally stopped screaming, the Shamrocks stand divided.
Hanging off to the side, Angelis remains neutral.
It looks like Duke refuses to pick a faction, too.
The only other outliers are my father and Brutus’ twin brother, Cassius, who aren’t here tonight. They’re hidden away at my father’s hobby farm near Beechina in the Perth Hills area. Technically, they should be here since we’re on lockdown, but even though Cassius is our chaplain, he’s never been a social man. His rift with Brutus is on-again, off-again, a rotation of old grudges and new arguments, and my dad is the closest thing he has to family. They’re best friends, next-door neighbours, and I fully expect either Cassius or Slash’s father, Angelis, to be the one who informs me of my father’s death.
My dad is too stubborn to die in my presence.
Even with their support and that of the two non-aligned old timers up for grabs, it’s clear that my side has the numbers.
What we lack is the patches.
Fret is the only Mayberry on the path to gaining a full Shamrocks rocker. Sander is concentrating on his sport career right now, and Wyatt and Nate are too young to prospect. In any case, Sander will always be a wild card—too self-centred and impulsive to really be trusted. Lily’s two younger brothers will eventually prospect, and I figure they’ll follow Fret’s steps and make it clear that they’re not interested in becoming yes-men for their father. Cub and Hunter have been in for a little more than a year, their patches still shiny. The only other son of a direct legacy member, Gabriel’s son, Isaiah, is still a prospect like Fret.
If there is a mutiny tonight over Brutus’ bullshit, we’ll find ourselves outvoted and on the lethal end of a bullet within an hour, and the VP patch that sits uneasily on the left lapel of my cut will go to one of Brutus’ faction. Whether I’m right about Brutus being up to his old games or not, it’s up to me to play this smart. One misstep and I could have not only the blood of my brotherhood on my hands, but more of Lily’s if she gets caught in the crossfire.
That’s not a risk I’m willing to take.
“Why don’t you all head back to the bar,” I direct the group backing me. Slash immediately frowns, his ice-blue eyes chilling as his fury solidifies. With a sharp look, I do my best to wordlessly tell him that I need him to back down, even as the words I speak do a poor job of concealing my rage. “I’ll check on our little Cherub and be right back with an update.”
Although, I’m unsure if the emphasis I place on “our” will be enough to remind them of the additional oath we made back in Cub’s garage, the strong nods I receive from the brothers who were present settles some of my worry. As one, they turn and stalk into the bar, and the Mayberry boys fall into step behind them.
Of course, Slash and Toker hover.
They’re ride or die. Or more accurately, torture and kill.
“Sure about this?” Slash mutters. “Brutus is on a bloody rampage tonight.”
“Not sure about anythin’ anymore.”
“Yeah, me neither.”
“Times are a-changin’, old man.” Toker nudges his father’s shoulder after nodding his agreement with mine and Slash’s assessment of the situation. “Hope you at least choose to duck when the shit hits the fan if you can’t find the balls to pick the right side.”
Duke slants a look at Brutus, and we follow suit, directing our attention to where he’s still using his bulk to keep Charlie from consoling her beloved stepdaughter. I’m at a loss to explain our president’s behaviour and I can tell the other three men are similarly floundering for an explanation. He’s always been cruel. Cold-hearted. Overly ambitious. Five years ago, he made bad choices that resulted in Lily getting hurt. During the aftermath and the time since, he’s displayed remorse for his part in it.
Right now, he has none.
It doesn’t sit right with me.
Apparently, it doesn’t sit right with many of us.
“Been talkin’ with Hades, Angelis, and Cass.” Duke lists off mine and Slash’s fathers and Brutus’ older twin brother. “We’re getting ready to hit him with a few questions.”
“Have fun with that,” I quip. “I suggest adding a tranq to his whiskey before you corner him.”
Duke snorts.
Lily starts screaming again.
Without hesitation, I lower my shoulder and charge through the hard bodies keeping me from her. Despite my order, Slash and Toker follow me. The old-timers surge forward but no one swings a punch, and I should be grateful that once I’ve knocked the first two out of the way, the rest of them move aside.
Except I’m more angry than appreciative.
They shouldn’t have stepped between us to begin with.
When I reach my bedroom door, Charlie slaps at Brutus’ chest to free herself from his constricting embrace.
“He wouldn’t let me in,” she reveals, rushing over to me.
After folding her into a hug, I pat Charlie’s back. “I know.”
“I don’t want a fight,” she whispers to me. “It’ll do Lilianna no good and only make things worse between you two.”
Her soft request sets the hair on the back of my neck on end. I shoot Brutus a look over the top of her head, and the arrogant chin lift he gives me is enough to snap my control. With gentle hands, I move Charlie over to Slash. Once she’s out of the way, I lunge for my president.
He sees me coming and takes a step forward to grab me first.
It doesn’t matter.
I’m younger.
I’m angrier.
I’ve had enough of his bullshit.
With my forearm across his throat, I pin him to the closest wall. Not one Shamrock tries to step between us. I’m not sure why, but right now, I don’t care. The chips can fall where they must after I’ve made my point.
This is between me and my father-in-law to be, not the president and his VP.
“Challengin’ me like this means war,” Brutus snarls in my face.
Using all my weight, I slam him hard against the cinder block. “Bring. It.”
“Help. Me.” The colour blanches from his face when Lily’s screams turn into shrieks filled with terror. “Zeke! Zeke! God! Slash! ”
I don’t bother to attempt to decipher his strange reaction, not when my woman is calling for help. Shoving Brutus out of the way, I rail on the older brothers who stood around watching this go down without attempting to intervene. “You all needa get the fuck outta my face for the night… but let me warn you before you find somewhere to hide—if I see any y’all in the mornin’ and you don’t have an apology for my old lady on the tip of your tongue for your part in this bullshit, there’ll be hell to pay.”
“You can’t order?—”
I point a finger in Brutus’ face and the rest of his objection dies on his tongue. “I just did.”
Without waiting to see everyone’s next move, I push open my bedroom door. After kicking it shut with my heel, I toe off my boots and undress, then head for the bed where Lily is flailing about. Her shrieks have died down to sobs, but I know she’s still caught between her nightmare and consciousness. Slipping into bed, I lay on my side and pull her back to my chest. Harsh shaking racks her entire frame, and the lack of response to my touch tells me she’s more asleep than awake.
No doubt whatever Doc gave her has locked her into what she once called ‘nightmare land.’ To hear Lily tell it, it’s a state of artificial sleep where she wants to wake up to escape her memories but can’t.
She fears it more than she does her actual trauma.
I should’ve known this was a possible outcome tonight.
Notch this oversight at the top of my list of failures today.
“Shhhh, metukà shelì . It’s just me. You’re safe now,” I croon, rocking her in my embrace.
Lily startles, then she pulls my arm tighter around her waist and laces our fingers together.
“I thought I could cope,” she confesses in a tear-stained voice. “I thought he’d never be able to get in my head again.”
“It’s fucked, Cherub. You shouldn’t have to go through this.” I pause to press a kiss to the back of her head. “But I watched you beat him once, and I know you’ll do it again.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Even though my own doubts have hold of me tonight, I force myself to respond with certainty. “I’m right, sweet thing… you’re tougher than the lot of us.”
When Lily remains silent, I rock us back and forth. The trembling finally subsides after a while, her body relaxes, and she works to stifle a yawn.
“I love you,” she whispers.
“I know, metukà shelì. I love you too. More than I can put into words.” When Lily yawns a second time, I squeeze her gently and press another kiss against her hair. “Go back to sleep. Everythin’ will look better in the mornin’.”
The words are ill-fitting as they leave my mouth, and I pray that Lily doesn’t realise that I’m lying to her yet again. She deserves to have the rest of the night to lick her wounds in peace instead of fretting over what’s coming.
But that’s all I’m able to give her.
Because, on top of my gut feeling that she’s withholding the full details of her kidnapping from me, we’re also dealing with Brutus spiralling out of control and the Shamrocks splitting into two factions in response to his escalating madness. It’s been going on for a while, although I’m not fool enough to believe that it’s a coincidence that our prez appears to be spoiling for a fight with me at the precise moment Alex returns to fuck with Lily. His deteriorating mood occurring on the same day that I discover we have a rat or two in our ranks isn’t a fluke either.
So, yeah, it’s doubtful anything will look better in the daylight.
In fact, as I lay in bed holding my sleeping woman, tired as fuck, yet unable to sleep, I realise that everything is likely to get a whole lot worse in the morning.