Skirt (Ruthless Kings MC #5) - K.L. Savage Page 0,5
tell him.
“You are a cow,” he says back.
“You act as if it’s an insult.”
“Will you two shut the hell up? Eat the damn pie. You’re giving me a headache with your bickering.”
I listen to the Prez, not wanting to press his buttons. He’s been on edge lately ever since Sarah started IVF treatments. They have been trying their hardest to have a baby, and now they are at the last resort before it seems to be hopeless. The treatments are rough on Sarah; emotionally, she’s always all over the place.
I hunch over the table, my arms bracketing the pie and my fists clench, ready to punch anyone in the face who tries to take this pie from me. I don’t bother asking the other question on my mind. Why the hell am I getting paired with Poodle? He’s my best friend, but I’m still mad at him for not being honest with me about his life, who he was, the kid he had, the girl he loved that died, and the fact he was—is a killer. He knows everything about me.
My brother’s death, my skill for fighting, the reason I haven’t been home since five years ago—everything. He obviously doesn’t view our friendship the same way as I did. It hurts. He was my first friend when I found the club. I confided in him.
I won’t question Prez on his reasoning to pair us together. Poodle and I work well when it comes to club business; that hasn’t changed, but our friendship has. I’m carrying a chip on my shoulder. I’m holding a grudge. It isn’t right; I know that. I haven’t been able to count on people since my brother died, and I expect my MC brothers to be those people, especially Poodle. All these years with him, I feel like I don’t know him at all.
“Because the owner is paying us to be the security detail for the tournament he’s hosting there in a few weeks.”
I nearly choke on my damn pie. “Tournament? I’m sorry, what? Circus, Circus is the place you go if you want a viral infection, Prez. Place is a dump.”
“Not for long. Once people see the Ruthless Kings are involved, people will start going there more. More people, more money, more money, renovations for Circus, Circus. Good business? Better name for the MC with the Vegas locals. That’s what matters. So if new clientele comes along wanting to do business with the Ruthless Kings, business that could be good for the club, we’re going to fucking do it, got it?”
My cheeks flame a bit from the slight scolding he’s giving me from my questions. “Aye, Prez. Got it.” My stomach turns when I think about going to Circus, Circus, the place where I’ve been fighting to make some extra money and to get the anger out of me. It’s legal-ish.
The club knows I’m good at fighting, but they don’t know I do it professionally. I want to keep it that way. It will bring attention to the club and what we do. The last thing we need is people looking in too close to who we are.
In the ring, I’m Rohan.
At the MC, I’m Skirt.
Two different people, two different lives, two different reasons for living.
Fuck, I really don’t want to go to Circus, Circus. If I see Maximo, he’s going to ask me to fight this weekend. I make him money, but Maximo, while he puts on a show for the hotel and casino, he isn’t a good man. He has his hands in many illegal things, and I know if I bring that trouble home to the clubhouse, Reaper will hand me my ass. Poodle has scars from defying Reaper, so does Tool, a damn heart carved in his chest. I sure as hell do not want that to be me.
I’m not supposed to be doing anything the club doesn’t know about. My brothers are always supposed to be involved, but it’s just fighting, so what’s the harm in doing something for myself?
I polish off the pan of pie, licking my fork clean, and Sarah grabs the empty plate from me. “I would have done that, Sarah. You don’t have to clean up after me,” I say. She’s been doing that a lot lately, cleaning up after the men like a momma bear. Reaper’s worried about her. Sarah hasn’t been the same ever since she miscarried, and now with struggling with getting pregnant, she’s gotten depressed.