Wirth (Dirty Aces MC #5) - Lane Hart Page 0,19

been killed!”

“He was wearing a bullet-proof vest,” he replies.

“Was there one on his head too? Because if there wasn’t, all it would take is one shot to kill him!”

Groaning and refusing to even look at me, Cormac says, “Jesus. Do you think I’m that reckless with my men? He was also wearing a helmet.”

“Oh. Well, that’s still not good enough,” I tell him. “Are you trying to get him killed? Have you decided that would be the easiest way to get rid of him?”

“I’m not going to get your brother killed,” he says simply. “But he’s not a child anymore. He wants to be a part of this, and you have no right to try and stop him.”

I gasp indignantly. Lowering my voice, I remind him, “Oh no. No, Cormac! We have a deal, remember? You promised me that once the Knights were gone, he was gone!”

“That was before I knew the Knights were getting protection from a bigger MC! Getting rid of the Knights now is going to require more bloodshed.”

“I hate you,” I tell him through my gritted teeth. “You’re going to end up getting Rian killed; and when you do, I’m going to come after you!”

Suddenly, I’m hefted off of my feet and am dangling from the air thanks to an arm banded around my waist.

“Show her out, Cletus,” Cormac says to the giant.

“We weren’t done talking!” I exclaim when I am turned around against my will, and then we’re headed to the door.

“Yes, we were,” Cormac says while I’m carried outside and dropped.

“Don’t come back, Miss Maeve. I don’t want to have to hurt you,” the giant says before he slams the door in my face.

“Assholes!” I shout.

Wirth

“I now call this joint meeting of the original Dirty Aces and the new Wilmington Dirty Aces to order,” Malcolm says without the least bit of enthusiasm. We’re all tired after a long-ass, bloody night. Fiasco and Hunt are still at Joanna’s house, in too much pain to make it to our pool hall. I think Hunt’s issue is more vanity than anything now that he’s missing a huge chunk of his ear. He doesn’t have to say it for us all to know he feels guilty, like he should’ve done more to protect his people and ours.

“Let me go ahead and say what everyone else is thinking,” Nash starts. Looking to the four new Wilmington members at the other end of the table, he says, “You guys may have a rat problem.”

“Are you fucking kidding?” Preston yells. “How do we know you all don’t have a rat?”

Malcolm slams down his gavel so loudly on the wooden table that I feel it echo in my skull. “Shut your fucking mouth now or take off those cuts,” he tells the new guys. “We’re trying to help. One of your men was shot, yeah, but two of us were fucking hit.”

“So, you’re saying we have a rat because we had less injured?” Titus grunts. “Maybe our men are just faster at ducking.”

“Watch it!” Malcolm warns him, narrowing his eyes and pointing the gavel in his direction like he’s considering slamming it against his big head. “I got winged when I was protecting my woman. Fiasco was outside in the open, unprotected. He couldn’t have just ducked to avoid getting shot twice!”

“Sorry,” Titus mutters, his enormous shoulders slumping inward after being chastised.

“Tell us more about these Irish fuckers that you failed to mention before patching over. Preston said you’ve heard rumors the Irish weren’t happy with you taking up residence in Wilmington,” Malcolm explains.

“You know how people talk shit,” Troy says. “That’s all we thought it was – talk. If we had any idea they would come at us like that, we would’ve told you.”

“Even if it is the Irish, how would they have known that we were there too? Doesn’t seem like the attack was a coincidence, does it?” Silas asks.

“You think someone tipped them off,” I say in understanding.

“It wasn’t our guys!” Preston exclaims.

“Yeah, we would know if we had a traitor,” Titus adds. “What about him?” He points his sausage finger in my direction so suddenly that I feel like I’ve got whiplash.

“What about me, motherfucker?” I hit back.

“You weren’t there when the shooting started,” Titus explains. “That doesn’t seem like a coincidence.”

“I will ram this gavel up your ass if you ever insinuate that it was one of my men again,” Malcolm warns him, but I can take up for myself.

“You and Hunt know goddamn well where I