Chapter 11 Over Thirty Brothers
Over Thirty Brothers
Punc
That evening, Punc sat on the couch with Savannah watching the British crime series they’d started before her attack. He wasn’t paying much attention because his mind was filled with vengeance.
His phone vibrated with a text message. It was from Volt.
Time to mount up.
He paused the show, and twisted toward Savannah. “That’s Volt. I gotta get to the clubhouse. Brian’s parked outside. He’ll be there until I get back.”
Her eyes were wary as she nodded. “It feels wrong to admit this, but I’m scared, Punc.”
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and she leaned into his hold. “Don’t be scared, Savannah. Brian’s out there, and other than my Riot brothers, there’s nobody else I’d trust to keep you and Cat safe.”
Her lips twisted for a moment before she sighed. “I guess that helps a little. Should I go next door and ask the Haders to loan us Nome again? I mean, he’s a labradoodle and one hundred percent all bark and no bite, just licks, but he’s still a deterrent.”
Punc debated that for a beat and shook his head. “No, babe. Keep the doors locked and leave this light on when you go to bed. I’ll be on your couch when I’m finished.”
Her lips twisted. “I get the feeling you’re not telling me something, but I sense it’s for my own good.”
Perceptive.
He’d never expected to find that appealing in his woman, but he liked it a lot.
“You trust me?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yeah.”
“Then finish the episode, do your thing and go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Her eyes closed for a moment, then she reached out and cupped his cheek before she planted a sweet, short kiss on his cheek. “Be careful, Puncture.”
Punc rode next to Tundra on a two-lane country road that cut through a small Georgia town two hours north of Jacksonville. Tundra signaled to turn into the lot of Roaring Road Tavern, a run-down biker bar. Punc followed and they parked behind the building.
He and Tundra swung off their bikes and sauntered along the side of the bar. One light shone in the parking lot. At a glance, there didn’t appear to be any cameras, but Punc knew looks could be deceiving.
Razor sidled up to him out of nowhere. “Kyle, the owner of this place, owes Volt multiple favors. The bar’s cameras have been disabled, and Vamp’s in the office making sure Kyle doesn’t pull anything on us.”
“And where’s Prime?” Punc asked, his voice tight as he struggled to keep his temper under control.
Razor chuckled ominously. “He’s inside. It’s a private party tonight.”
Tundra shot Razor a sideways glance. “We’re doing this in a bar?”
They’d moved closer to the entrance and in the light of the parking lot, Punc saw Razor’s sinister grin.
“There are over thirty brothers in there. Every one of us gets a piece of this asshole, including the Memphis brothers, and the few members who came up from Biloxi. We need space, and we couldn’t take this asshole to where we normally do our wet work.
The security cameras showed someone surveilling the driveway. ”
“I thought the Biloxi brothers were at Platinum’s. They’re here?” Tundra asked.
Razor nodded at Tundra. “Har, Brute, Roman, and Tiny bailed on Platinum’s.
” He locked eyes with Punc. “Cynic and Blood are pissed as fuck that they can’t be here since they’re at the strip club.
Blood figures you can take his pound of flesh - especially since Prime had planned to frame your ass.
Cynic wants Cal to dish out his vengeance. ”
With a deep breath, Punc let that sink in. It made his anger flare anew and he nodded. “I can definitely do that for our V.P.”
Razor grinned. “You sound honored.”
“Damn straight. Was thinking none of my brothers got me with this shit, but it seems Blood does.”
Razor threw a hand out toward the doors. “Get inside. You two aren’t late, but you are the last brothers to show.”
Only brothers wearing Riot MC cuts were inside. The bar reeked of cigarette smoke and alcohol. Tables had been pushed to the sides of the room. Prime was shirtless and tied to a chair that rested on a large blue tarp in the middle of the floor. He had a black eye and busted lip.
“Got started early,” Tundra muttered.
Razor gave him a side-eye glance. “Vamp and I had to convince him to come quietly.”
With raised eyebrows, Yak looked at Punc. “You wanted first punch, man. You’re up.”
Lark, a middle-aged brother from the Memphis chapter, stood directly behind Prime, his eyes on the bindings.
Beyond Lark, he saw the hulking frame of Zeus, the Memphis chapter president, and his entire chapter standing behind him, shoulder to shoulder.
The menace oozing from them felt like a presence in the room.
Punc caught Lark’s gaze. “You should step back.”
Lark’s lips tipped up. “Fuck that. I’m holding this asshole in place. Give it your all, I don’t give a fuck if you break his neck with your punch.”
Punc fought a grin at that idea, then looked at Yak and Turk. “Blood wants me to take his pound of flesh. I’m doing that now, too.”
“Fuck you,” Prime spat.
Punc reached to his back pocket and pulled out a single pair of brass knuckles.
He didn’t carry two because he wore three chunky, heavy, sterling silver rings on his right hand.
One was of a skull with small rubies in the eyes, another featured an eagle surrounded by onyx, and the third was set with turquoise.
Those three rings did as much damage as his brass ever did.
From his peripheral vision, he saw Prime was focused on the brass knuckles. He liked that because it gave Punc the element of surprise when he landed his right hook in Prime’s temple.
“You wanted to frame me?” Punc demanded.
“You’re the perfect pussy for it,” Prime hissed.
“Ava had to be put in a fuckin’ coma because of your shit,” he said. His mind filled with visions of her healing wounds, and he aimed a left jab at Prime’s nose.
Bright red blood spewed down Prime’s face. It gave Punc a modicum of satisfaction, but not nearly enough. His rage gripped him and he let it take over.
He planted a right hook to Prime’s lips. “My woman’s teenage sister thought she was going to die, motherfucker.”
There was a hum of murmurs through the room, but Punc tuned them out. A Biloxi brother, who sounded like Tiny, muttered, “Less talking, more beating.”
Prime spat toward Punc’s feet. He heard something other than spit hit the floor, and he caught sight of a tooth.
“Your time’s almost up, Punc,” Yak said from nearby.
Punc reached to his hip and pulled out his bowie knife.
“Hey, it’s too soon for that shit,” Lark muttered.
With effort, Punc kept himself from narrowing his eyes at Lark. “He’s damn sure gonna suffer. Don’t worry.”
Prime’s eyes widened with horror as Punc held the blade.
“Now you’re fuckin’ scared, you piece of shit,” Punc said.
Prime reared back in the chair, but there was nowhere to go.
In two quick motions, he drew a slice down Prime’s cheek, and then a slice under his jaw, but he was careful of his carotid artery.
“All right, you’re done. I’m taking the first slice at his tat,” Yak said, herding Punc out of the way.
He stalked across the room to the bar, feeling multiple sets of eyes on him. Turk’s glare seemed especially vicious, but he chalked that up to Prime and Ghost abducting Turk’s woman, Suzy.
Cal stood behind the bar, and acting as bartender, he set Punc up with a beer. “Impressive, brother.”
Punc gave him a chin lift as he caught his breath. Conversation wasn’t happening at that point due to Prime’s yells and screams filling the room.
After Yak had his way with Prime, the Biloxi brothers took their turns.
Har, Brute, Roman, and Tiny were fast, but brutal.
Volt followed Tiny, and then the ten other Jacksonville brothers meted out vengeance before the Memphis brothers made their displeasure known.
In the end, Turk got his way, and dealt the death blow to Prime.
Lark, Zeus, and two other Memphis brothers wrapped Prime’s body in the tarp. Zeus broke away while the others moved Prime out to a box truck that had been backed up to the front doors of the tavern.
Zeus clapped a hand on Punc’s shoulder. “You got a mean right hook and a deft hand with the blade, man. Might have to call you up to Memphis if we got trouble.”
Punc nodded. “Thanks, Zeus. Say the word, and I’ll ride up.”
Turk wandered their way while wiping down his knife. He glared at Punc. “Your ass needs to be in my office tomorrow morning. So we can discuss your involvement with Ava and calling her your woman.”
Savannah
I woke up when I heard a car door close outside the house. Rolling to my side, I saw the time on my alarm clock. Five-forty-two in the morning. If Punc was back, he’d been gone for seven-and-a-half hours.
That was a long time to spend at the clubhouse, but I knew he’d gone somewhere else.
I’d fretted over that most of the night, tossing and turning in bed.
When I’d told Punc I was scared last night, I hadn’t clarified that a lot of my fear was for him and there wasn’t anything Brian would be able to do to keep him safe.
My fear and curiosity were killing me, so I rolled out of bed, put on my thin, waffle-weave robe, and tied it while I trudged down the hallway to the dimly lit living room.
Punc stood at the kitchen sink, carefully washing his hands.
“Is everything all right?” I asked.
His body jolted at my question. He turned off the water, grabbed a paper towel, and nodded. “It is.”
He kept the damp paper towel around his fingers.
I stared at his hands for a beat before I shot my gaze back to his. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he whispered.
“Did Brian just leave?”
He nodded.
I pressed my lips together as I debated with myself. Finally, I said, “You were gone much longer than I expected.”
After a second, he tossed the paper towel aside, came to me, and cupped my face in both of his hands. “Ghost is in jail, no bail being set.”
I gave a short nod. “I know.”