and calm her down. “This is what I do,” I tell her. “This is what I’m good at.”
“You’re good at loving me,” she says as she clings onto my hand. “Why can’t that be enough?”
“It is enough,” I say as I let her go and head to my bike. “It’s always enough. But I have to do this.”
She heads inside crying and it kills me to see her go, but I know I’ll be all right. Beckham has got my back and he won’t let anything happen to me, just like I won’t let anything happen to him.
Beckham comes out a few seconds later along with the rest of the crew—Killian, Buzz, Ranger, and the rest of the guys. They’re all ready and sitting on their bikes.
“Your friends from Cali delivered the guns,” Troy says. “We’re going to swing by the warehouse, arm up, and then wait until it gets dark to storm their clubhouse. We’re not going to hit them when they’re hammered off their asses like they did to us. We’re not pussies. We’re going to go in hot.”
“The President is mine,” I hiss through clenched teeth. I look around at all of the faces to make sure they know I’m serious. “If anyone touches Gunner before I get to him, they’re going to have to face me next. Got that?”
They all nod as my blood starts boiling.
I’ve been waiting all week to get my hands on this guy.
And the wait is over.
Chapter Ten
Jaxon
The guns are for protection only. Troy doesn’t want a bloodbath hanging over the club’s head. Especially after all the work they’ve done to stay clean.
This is going to be an old fashioned bar brawl and I can’t wait.
“Ready?” I ask Beckham as he makes sure his brass knuckles are on nice and snug.
He nods.
My brother doesn’t speak much on a good day, but when he’s in his Terminator mode, he doesn’t say a word. It’s like he doesn’t want to waste any energy on talking when he can add it to his punches.
The two of us walk up to the clubhouse like we own the place. The Outlaws don’t know us, so we’ve left our cuts with our bikes and are walking in the front door while the rest of the Heartlands prepare to ambush them from behind after we’ve distracted them.
A few of our prospects are stationed across the street with the guns, ready to hand them out if things get hot.
It’s around eleven o’clock at night and the bar is loud and packed. Shiny bikes are lined up along the outer wall and I grit my teeth, wondering which one belongs to Gunner. I have a strong desire to shove it up his ass.
I’m picturing the black around Stella’s beautiful green eye as we walk into the bar and look around. It’s a standard biker dive bar. Shitty music. Empty beer bottles everywhere. Bikers getting hammered.
A big burly biker with an Outlaw cut on and a big long red beard steps up to us almost immediately. “Who the fuck are you guys?”
Beckham stares him down as I look around for Gunner.
“You pussies lost?” he asks in a threatening tone.
“Where’s Gunner?” I ask.
He steps up to me and pokes a finger into my chest. “Who the fuck is asking?”
I grin as I look down at his finger that’s digging into my left pec. “If you want to keep your finger, I suggest you move it and tell me where Gunner is.”
“What the fuck are you going to do?” he hollers.
“Nothing,” I say with a shrug. “But my pit-bull of a brother here will bite it off if you don’t remove it in three, two, one…”
The big lug doesn’t remove it, so Beckham grabs his beard and yanks him forward. The rest of the bikers start to notice and begin crowding around, looking for trouble.
I’m scanning their leather cuts, looking for a name, looking for a title, looking for the man who’s about to have taken his last breath.
The big guy starts to fight Beckham and my brother knocks him out cold with one hard punch to the temple. He falls to the floor and the bar erupts.
I kick a guy in the chest as he advances on me and then grab a beer bottle and break it over the head of another guy.
It’s chaos as the women and non-bikers flee out the door. The Outlaws swarm us.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see someone hit Beckham on the head with a