Wirth (Dirty Aces MC #5) - Lane Hart Page 0,39
traitor.
“If so, then why weren’t the Irish there to ambush us?” Hunt asks. “It doesn’t make sense for them to not take advantage of the situation. Where the fuck were they, and why didn’t they get us when we were vulnerable?”
“Hunt’s right,” Dev agrees. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Malcolm says, looking pointedly at me like he already knows I’m to blame. “And we’re not leaving this fucking room until someone talks. No one but the men in here knew our plan. No one!”
Maeve is going to get me killed. I’ve always said that women are not worth the trouble, and here I am, my head on the chopping block because she’s got me pussy whipped after less than two nights with her.
No, this is worse than being pussy whipped.
She’s got the fucking whip wrapped around my neck about to hang me with it.
“I know who the rat is,” I speak up and say. The room goes so silent you could hear a pin drop.
“Well, let’s hear it,” Silas grumbles from where he’s standing next to me, practically breathing down my neck.
“It’s me. I’m the rat.”
A few guys swear, others gasp.
“You dirty motherfucker!” Hunt shouts, and then he pulls out his gun to point it at me. “It’s your fault I almost died!”
“That’s your own goddamn fault, you stupid son of a bitch!” I yell back at him, pulling out my gun from the back of my waistband to aim it just as fast. “Maeve’s brother is a part of the Irish fucking mafia, you blind idiot!”
His right hand holding the gun lowers. “Maeve?” he repeats. “No fucking way!”
“Do you really not vet your girls?” Malcolm asks, not looking all that surprised. Shaking his head, he says, “Blinded by the pussy. We’ve all been there.”
“So, what are we going to do? Kill the bitch?” Silas asks from beside me. I ram my elbow into his face without even a second thought. Blood pours from his nose but that doesn’t stop him from swinging his fist at my face.
“You son of bitch!” he roars while laying into me.
“Stop it right the fuck now!” Malcolm says when he and some of the other guys intervene to pull us apart. “Open the door and put all the guns the fuck down now! The lack of oxygen is making us all lose our damn minds.”
Finally, some of the men escape the chapel, Malcolm encouraging everyone but the original Dirty Aces members and new Knights to leave.
He doesn’t shut the door, though, making sure that they can listen if they want, proving he has nothing to hide and won’t be giving me any special treatment just because I’m part of his crew.
“You told Maeve our plan?” Malcolm asks as I keep rubbing my aching jaw that feels displaced when I open my mouth.
“I only told her so that she could get her brother out of there. He’s all the family she has left. She wasn’t supposed to tell them all. Rian’s only eighteen.”
“Eighteen-year-old boys can fight for their country, so they won’t be getting a free pass from me,” Malcolm says when he lowers himself into his chair at the head of the table. “Was he one of the shooters?”
“Yes.”
“Then he’s man enough to pay the fucking consequences!”
“If the pub hadn’t been empty, sure, yeah, we could’ve taken out a few, maybe even the ones responsible for the shooting. But we would’ve lost men too!” I point out. “So, to me, I guess it was worth the chance. I don’t regret telling her, and I won’t fucking apologize.”
“He has to be punished for his fucking betrayal!” Hunt declares.
“So that’s it, huh? You turning in your cut?” Malcolm asks.
“If that’s what you tell me I have to do, then I guess I won’t have a choice, will I?” I ask him.
“Not unless you’re going to set shit right on your own.”
“What does that mean?” I ask.
“You made this mess. Now you need to clean it up,” Malcolm explains.
“I won’t let you hurt Maeve,” I tell him.
“That bitch is mine,” Hunt says through clenched teeth while cracking his knuckles. It’s good to see his gun is no longer in his hands, but there’s only one thing for me to say to that.
“Over my cold, dead body.”
“That can be arranged,” Hunt replies and then reaches again for the gun in his shoulder harness. Malcolm is faster, pulling his out and shooting it about two inches over the man’s head.
“What the actual fuck?” Hunt yells when he ducks