Chapter Forty-One
THAT NIGHT, I rolled into The Pit just as the games were heatin’ up. Mystic was off, Horse was holdin’ the door, and the whole place throbbed with dice slammin’, chips clatterin’, and voices ridin’ high on whiskey and adrenaline. Sweat and smoke hung heavy, the kind of air you could choke on.
Normally I’d stop, check the tables, make sure the house was runnin’ clean. Not tonight. My head wasn’t in it. I cut straight to the office, boots poundin’ across the worn floor.
Door was cracked. Should’ve known better. Should’ve smelled the perfume seepin’ out before I stepped inside.
Leena.
She was sprawled out on my desk like it was her own damn stage. Naked, legs crossed, a glass of whiskey glintin’ by her hip. One hand on her tits, the other draggin’ down her thigh like she thought she was some goddess of sin.
“I been waitin’ for you,” she purred.
“Put your fuckin’ clothes on,” I snapped, pointin’ at the door. “And get the fuck out.”
Her smile widened, all teeth and poison. “Don’t play, Thunder. You think I don’t see it? That little girl got under your skin, and you’re tryin’ to prove somethin’. But you and me? We’re the same kind of dirty. She’s not built for you.”
I laughed once, biting. “You don’t know shit about me.”
Her heels clicked against the floor as she slid off the desk, slow on purpose, lettin’ the light play off every inch of her. “I know you,” she said, her voice sweet and mean all at once. “You don’t babysit broken dolls. You’ll get bored and need my kind of dirty.”
“Enough.” My voice cracked like a whip. “Stop beggin’. It’s pitiful.”
That grin faltered, slipped into somethin’ uglier. “I’ve been loyal to this club. To you. Years of givin’ everything, and you toss me aside for some charity case with two kids hangin’ off her skirts?”
I tilted my head, sneer curlin’ at my mouth.
“Loyal? The only thing you’ve been loyal to is spreadin’ your legs where you thought it’d earn you somethin’.
Hate to break it to you, Leena, but that ain’t loyalty, that’s just desperation in a short skirt.
And right now? You’re about as useful as a flat tire. ”
Her face twisted, but she stepped closer anyway, perfume hittin’ like a wall. She reached for me, hand skimming the patch on my cut. “I’ve kept your secrets, Thunder. I’ve kept this club’s secrets. Don’t pretend I don’t matter.”
I caught her wrist, hard enough to make her hiss, and shoved it away. “You mattered when you stayed in your lane. You stepped out of it tonight. Hit the door and keep walkin’.”
Her eyes narrowed, fury burnin’. “You’re firin’ me. You can’t be serious”
“Dead fuckin’ serious.”
She staggered back like the words hit her gut. Then her lip curled. “You’ll regret this,” she spat, snatchin’ her clothes in a storm. “That girl doesn’t got the spine to last. She won’t satisfy you. She won’t survive this world. And when you crawl back, don’t forget, I warned you.”
I smirked, grim and cold. “The day I crawl back to you, Leena, is the day I sell my bike and start wearin’ khakis. Not gonna fuckin’ happen.”
Her face went red, twisted with rage. She stormed out, slammin’ the door so hard the glass rattled in the frames on the wall.
I stood there, breath steadyin’, starin’ at the desk she’d spread herself across like an offer. My gut twisted, not from temptation, fuck no, but from the truth crawlin’ up my spine.
Leena knew things.
Schedules. Entrances. Weak spots.
And she wasn’t the type to take rejection like a bruise. She took it like a blade.
I picked up the phone, thumb heavy on the buttons. Devil needed to know. He was the kind of man who could make sure she understood the cost of crossin’ us.
But even as the line rang, I knew the truth: Leena wasn’t the kind of problem you scared off with threats.
She was the kind that came back meaner.
***
AFTER DEVIL PICKED up, I gave him the short version—Leena, the desk, her bein’ outta her damn mind. His answer came clipped, unshakable.
“She’s trouble, always has been. I’ll deal with her. You did right.”
Line went dead. Devil didn’t waste words.
I shoved the phone back in my pocket and stepped out on the floor. The Pit was alive, chips slappin’, dice bouncin’, smoke so thick you could chew it. Men hollerin’ over wins, cursin’ over losses, the kind of racket that seeps into your bones if you hang around too long.
Horse leaned against the bar, glass in hand, eyes cut toward the door Leena had stormed out minutes back.
“Caught the tail end of that,” he muttered. “Leena tearin’ through here like her damn hair was on fire. You finally send her packin’?”
“Yeah,” I said, reachin’ for a drink. “She’s out.”
Horse smirked, though there wasn’t much humor in it. “’Bout fuckin’ time. Woman’s been hangin’ on like a tick. She’ll make noise, though. That kind don’t go quiet.”
Before I could answer, Wrath strode over, flippin’ a chip between his fingers. He leaned casual against the bar, eyes slidin’ from me to Horse.
“Who’s the guy Brenda’s seeing?” he asked, tone smooth, like it was nothin’ heavier than askin’ about the weather.
Horse froze. Didn’t blink. Didn’t drink. Went still as stone. “What’d you just say?”
Wrath tipped the chip, caught it easy. “Saw her in the park off Broad last night. She wasn’t alone. Some man I didn’t recognize. Tall. Dark jacket. Looked close.” He shrugged, all casual curiosity. “Figured you might know.”
The vein in Horse’s jaw ticked. “I don’t.”
Wrath held his palms out like it wasn’t meant to stir shit. “Relax. Just asking. Didn’t know she had someone in her life.”
I cut in, voice flat, rough. “What the hell were you doin’ in the park at midnight, Wrath?”
His eyes slid my way. He let the silence stretch a beat too long. Then that half-smirk tugged at his mouth. “Stretching my legs.”
I stared him down. “Long walk for a man who ain’t from around here.”
He shrugged again, lazy as sin. “Guess I like the scenery.”
Horse’s fist flexed tight round his glass, but he didn’t say a word. Just turned his glare back on the bottles lined behind the bar, jaw grindin’ loud enough I could damn near hear bone on bone.
Wrath flicked the chip once more, then pocketed it. “Didn’t mean anything by it. Just wondered.” He clapped Horse’s shoulder, light, then pushed off toward the tables like he hadn’t just dropped a grenade.
Horse finally downed his drink in one swallow, poured another, eyes still burnin’. His hand clenched again, knuckles bone white, and then he slammed the glass down hard enough to crack the rim. Whiskey spilled across the counter, but he didn’t so much as blink.
His jaw was locked, eyes gone dark and dangerous, hotter than I’d seen in a long damn time.
Brenda. With another man.
Everybody knew she meant more to Horse than he’d ever admit. Pretendin’ otherwise never changed the truth.
And now? Looked like someone else had stepped right into the space he kept pushin’ her out of.
This wasn’t gonna end well.