Chapter 21 #2
"That's Cypher," Hush answered. "President of The Berserker’s Rage MC. Well, the Wyomin' Chapter anyway."
"Oh shit," I replied. "I haven't met him yet."
"Most of the guys haven't," Hush said. "Come on. Let's go introduce you two assholes." He slapped a hand on my shoulder and shoved me forward.
It was chaos. I hadn't seen some of the guys in a while. Most I knew from the military. It was a small world, especially for Special Forces. I was pounded on the back for the fifth time that day before I made it to the middle of the circle.
"These your prospects?" Cypher asked with a grin. "Dick move making your brother and best friend prospect for your club, Brother."
Lockout laughed. "It was a dick move for them to wait so fucking long to join me."
Cypher held out his hand and I shook it. "Nice to meet you. I was beginning to wonder if you were just a legend."
He chuckled. "When you're busy taking care of all the messes these assholes create, there's no time to leave the fucking clubhouse."
Before I could respond, a commotion started up at the back of the group.
"Move," Cypher and Lock said at the same time. It was like double Moseses parting the Red Sea. Bikers stepped aside and at the end was Butcher and Scythe.
"Shit. Not good," Toxic muttered.
I glanced over at him. "Where did you even come from?" The last I’d seen him he’d been wading through bikers. Now he was behind us again. I hadn’t seen him circle around.
He didn’t bother to respond because he was already rushing forward, once more, trying to break up the brewing fight. He was too late.
"The fuck you just say to me?" Scythe barked. He was a big bastard. Like almost Hellfire sized, but mean as a rattlesnake. He towered over Butcher, but it wasn't like Butcher gave a shit about something as inconsequential as size.
"They're going to fucking kill each other," Idaho said with an interested look on his face. "Maybe we should let them go at it," he suggested. "I think I'd like to see who won that fight."
"Bad fucking idea," Priest said, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched Cypher and Lock wade into the throng of people to help. "The collateral damage alone…"
"Should we help?" Ricochet asked.
Hush tossed one of our Berserker’s Rage friends aside, sending him crashing to the ground. We all watched as the man rolled to his hands and knees and shook his head.
"If they need us," Smoke answered.
I chuckled and watched as the fight spread until the Berserker’s Rage guys were even fighting each other. "Never a dull fucking moment."
"It'll help get out some of the piss and vinegar," Priest said with a grin.
Riptide snarled something at one of the Berserker’s Rage guys when he was lifted over the man's head.
"Is it even a party if there's no fight?" Hell asked with a laugh. He waded into the fray to help our VP before he was dropped to the ground.
"We better go," I told Idaho, who just sighed and nodded. We pushed and shoved our way through until we got to Butcher and Scythe.
Toxic was standing between them, his hands on each man's chest. "We're here to fight Fremont," he said, "not each other."
"Huh."
"What?" Idaho asked me.
"Toxic is being the voice of reason," I commented.
Idaho's brows rose and he shook his head. "Well, fuck me."
"Scythe," Cypher snapped. "Stand down."
Scythe growled something under his breath that I couldn't catch because he was standing too far away, but he took a step back.
"Good dog," Butcher sneered.
"Does Butcher know that guy has probably killed more than the majority of us combined?" Idaho asked.
I snorted. "Butcher's killed more than the majority of us."
He thought about that. "Good point."
Another Berserker’s Rage stepped forward and Cypher pointed at him. "Fuck no. Demo, back the hell off, now."
Demolition was very likely carrying his weight in explosives at any given time. Having him get involved in fights usually ended up with body parts flying through the air.
"Butcher," Lock growled, glaring at our brother. "We don't have the fucking time or luxury for you to blow off steam like this."
"He started it," Butcher muttered.
"I hear the fishing at Harvey Point is excellent this year."
We all stared at Cypher like he lost his mind. He was about Lock's age, early forties, had short, dark hair and intense brown eyes. There was a scar slashing through his left eyebrow, and he was watching Butcher with an expectant vibe surrounding him.
Butcher slowly looked over at Cypher. The expression on his face was unreadable, but the blood lust drained from his eyes and with only a flex of his jaw, he turned and walked away.
The group as a whole had stopped to watch the confrontation and it was as though everyone let out a collective breath.
"Everyone, get to work," Lock barked, sweeping his gaze over the men standing around. Viking’s Rampage and Berserker’s Rage alike jumped into action, working on the same team once more.
I glanced over at Cypher and shook my head. I hadn't known Butcher as long as some of these men. Never met him while we were in the service, or after the CIA formed the group he led, but he was notoriously hard to control once he lost his temper. "What the fuck was that?" I asked.
Both presidents looked over at me. Cypher grinned. "Your club has one Butcher," he told me, shrugging his shoulders. "I have an entire club of them. You figure out how to make them stand down, or you end up cleaning up a lot of fucking blood."
Idaho and I glanced at each other as they walked away from us. We both clearly heard Lock ask, "Would that fucking phrase work for me?"
"Not unless you did a stint with the CIA I don't know about."
"Damn."
"You do a commendable job dealing with him as it is," Cypher said, clapping his hand on Lock's back. "I'm sure his handler appreciates it."
They moved too far away to hear. "Handler?" I asked Idaho.
He shrugged. "When it comes to Butcher? Who the fuck knows what that means. Let's go give these guys a hand before they fuck something up."
Following Idaho across the compound, I shot a look up to the window where I knew Gwen was sleeping.
The shit that just happened was most of the guys just blowing off steam.
Just another damn day for us. And still, rather than pounding my fist into another man's face, I'd rather crawl back into bed with my woman.
I grinned because shit was changing for me, and I really didn't fucking care.
As long as Gwen and her kids were there, that was all that mattered.