Polk 20.
I honestly don’t think I’ve ever been this mad in my life. Incensed. Yeah, that’s a good word for it. I’m gonna kill him. Then I’m gonna revive him and kill him in a totally new way. Rinse and repeat until the bloodthirst is sated.
Who the fuck does he think he is coming after my woman like that? He ain’t blind. Brain surgery is no excuse for his utter disrespect and stupidity. Quinn said she’s fine, and knowing her, she probably is. She’s so damn levelheaded. Me? No, I’m INCENSED!
I rip the front door of the clubhouse open, the sound of it crashing into the wall surprises everyone inside. The clubroom stills, my eyes scan its inhabitants. Jules is straddling Ford on one of the couches, but when his eyes meet mine, he jumps up, dumping her to the ground. Dick glistening and wagging, he tries to run to the stairs, no doubt seeking the sanctuary of his room.
“Gotta be quicker than that, fucker!” I roar, gripping his shoulder and spinning him around to face me. I rear back, punch him solid in the gut. He bends over double, wheezing as several hands try to pull me back.
“Polk! He just had fucking brain surgery!” Buck yells behind me.
“Spoke to a friend, gut punches won’t hinder his recovery. Though it won’t matter much longer because I’m going to fucking kill him!” I lunge forward, breaking free from whoever is holding me, but before I reach Ford I’m tackled from the side to the ground by Carver.
“I’m sorry!” Ford manages to push out between gasping for breath.
“Sorry? You’re sorry? Fuck that. And fuck you!” I scramble to my knees, stretching as far as I can, I punch him in the dick.
“Goddammit!” He drops to his knees, his wheezing turning into gagging.
“What the fuck is going on here?!?” We all turn to find Madison scowling at us, his eyes blazing with fury. I glance at Ford briefly, surprised to find him with his head down, his shoulders slumped.
“Quinn came to check on him after her…earlier today.” We haven’t told anyone yet about her diagnosis. She’s still trying to wrap her head around it and figure out what it means. And knowing her, she’s making plans upon plans upon plans so as not to be caught unaware or ill-prepared. I love that woman. “He took her to his room and confessed his love for her and tried to convince her they belonged together.” She came straight to the clinic to tell me. She was Quinn, composed and rational and I was not. Of course, the enthusiastic blow job she gave me in my office was thoughtful and a wonderful way to calm me down. Until now.
Langley kicks Ford in the leg, “You’ve had sex with three women since Quinn was here! No way you love a woman like Quinn and then fuck anyone else.”
Ford rubs his leg, then holds his hands up, “I had it all wrong. I’m sorry. I thought…Quinn helped me figure it out. She’s orange and I’m Vermont.” There is a long, pregnant pause in which we all fail to understand what the fuck he’s talking about.
“Fucking idiot.” Madison shakes his head, his voice gruff yet affectionate? Sitting back on my ass, I pull my knees up and rest my forearms on them.
“Brain surgery or not, that was bullshit,” Adams spits at Ford. No traces of humor or affection. He’s pissed. Good. I’m glad someone sees it my way. Adams shares a look with Madison and Hayes, then Hayes and Adams nod at Pres.
Madison holds his hand out to Ford. “Get up.” On his feet, Ford stands stock-still, awaiting punishment. “Pack your shit.”
“Pres! No, please. I’m sorry, I know I fucked up, but please…this club—”
“I’m not kicking your sorry ass out. I’m sending you for some immersion therapy in Pittsburgh. The Golem Guerillas are anxiously awaiting the opportunity to straighten you out.”
I wait, as does everyone else, for Ford to flip out. Only, he doesn’t. He nods in understanding, heaves a deep breath and agrees. “I can be ready within the hour.”
“It’s for your own good, son. I don’t think this is the place for you to heal.”
“I know, Pres. I think you’re right.” He pauses, then looks at Adams with a wince. “They got any club girls there?”
“I’m gonna fuck you up. And I’m gonna enjoy it.” Adams’ tone is lethal.
“Just asking. No worries. In fact, probably best there isn’t.” Well, that was unexpected. Ford looks at everyone, his club brothers gathered around, pissed but worried about him. “I haven’t said it…but I’m sorry. I’ve been such a fucking asshole, to everyone. I’m just…I’m sorry.” He turns around, stopping when he spots Chastity standing behind Langley. “Chastity…I am truly sorry for disrespecting you and laying hands on you.” She nods but doesn’t say anything. He spins around once more and steps toe-to-toe with me. You’d have to be blind not to notice the regret, the shame, the sadness that is etched in every line of his face. “I am appalled at the things I said to Quinn. She’s end game, the benchmark to measure all other women. I’m fortunate and eternally grateful that she’s deemed me worthy of friendship. I won’t give her another reason to regret that decision. She loves you, Polk. She wants you, and she won’t admit it, but she needs you too. Don’t take her for granted, or next time you’ll be the one on the ground pissing blood.”
I nod once, twice, before I lose the fight and start laughing. It bursts forth loud and obnoxious, but I can’t help it.
Ford glares at me. “Dude.”
“It’d be more threatening if your limp dick wasn’t still flapping in the wind!” The room erupts and I barely hear his muttered “Dammit” before he’s tucking himself in and charging up the steps.
I’m still pissed, but his departure helps. I pull out my phone and send Quinn a text.
Polk: He’s been dealt with.
Quinn: He’s still alive?
Polk: I promised I wouldn’t kill him, and I keep my promises.
Quinn: So, he has a pulse, but is most of his blood still on the inside of his body?
Polk: Funny. He’s going to Pittsburgh for a while.
Quinn: I think that’s best.
Polk: It is. But I’m still pissed. I’m coming over shortly and I’m going to give you a vigorous weinering. Prepare yourself.
Quinn: The boys don’t go to bed for several hours.
Polk: Then you’ll need to be quiet.
Quinn: If that’s the case, then perhaps a weak weinering is in order.
Polk: How dare you insult my manhood by suggesting I am capable of subpar weinering. I’m hurt.
Quinn: Big baby. Come over and I’ll find a way to make it up to you.
Polk: I’ve always felt a titty fuck goes a long way to soothing hurt feelings.
Quinn: You just want to cum on my face.
Polk: Oh, is that an option?