Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

Maddox – 25 Helena - Age 16 1/2

"Don't look at her like that," I told the asshole next to me.He'dbeen staring at Helena Marsh with far too much interest. At this point, the girl wasn't even out of high school, andthis asswipe was looking like he'd fuck her over the table like a club whore. God help us all, but the girl was so beautiful that she attracted every eye in the place, even mine, when I didn't have my shit locked down tight.

The problem was that she was off-limits. First and foremost, because she was only about sixteen and some change; second, she was Roscoe's daughter … both added to a no-touch policy. The fucker didn't even allow her to date.

"Don't be such a killjoy, Maddox. The girl is fire! Man. Look at that ass. Those tits." He was licking his lips like a perv by the time I yanked him to his feet and hauled his ass away from the bar.

"Get the fuck up?" Barely holding my temper,I pulled the prospect forward, my grip tight on his neck.It wasn't difficult because I waslargerthan him by a fair margin in height and bulk.

If her father saw this guy staring at his daughter that way, he'd put a bullet between his eyes. Hell,I'm temptedto shoot him myself.

Helena was giggling with some woman at the bar; herschoolbooks opened in front of her as I dragged the prospect outside behind the clubhouse where I could beatthe shit out ofhim in private. Her eyes blinkedatme momentarily, andher mouth turned down as she took the prospect in my hands. For a second, I thought she was about to get off the stool, but thankfully, herbare feet curled over the rungs of the stool, purple toenail polish glinting in the light.

"She's off-limits. You know that," I growled. I wanted to give the kid the benefit of the doubt, but that ship had sailed.

He rolled his eyes. "Don't be such an asshole, Maddox. I'll bet your dick is as hard as mine looking at that girl. It'll be our word against hers. You hold her down. I'll even let you have first go."

He knewinstantlyhe'd made a big mistake as my eyes narrowed at him. The punch knocked him out, his head bouncing against the brick as he fell. It was all I could do not to keep going and pulverize the sick fuck, but I knew Roscoe would want to hear about this shit. Taking my phone from mypocket, I dialed Roscoe's number and explained the basics of the conversation.

"Take him to the basement," Roscoe said, just as I thought he would. "You can leave the piece of shit there." He hesitated and said, "Here's your chance to back out of this if you want. You can walk away, and we'll pick up the little shit later."

"No. I'm solid."

Thiswas the first time that I would cross this particular line for the club and be directly involvedwith someone's death. There was a pause on the line, and I could hear Roscoe thinking about it. I was privy tomanyof the Brotherhood's dealings, but Roscoe had kept me in the grey.So far, I'd notbeen directly implicatedin any of the Brotherhood's illegal activities, but I knew the MC had some strictly black book business.

The club scouted new members pretty hard, but I had also been testing the waters. If there was one thing that Ihad,it was my code. Luckily, the Brotherhood's code was in line with mine. Women and children wereoff-limitsandprotected.

When I left thearmy,I returned to Arizona, bouncing from town to town, tryingto find a rhythm, but I was in abadplace. There were times when I wasn't sure what I'd do. I was lost.I'd left the servicealone, butwhenI was out, I wasn't sure why I left.My sense of selfwas tied upin a team and a purpose. Once Ileft,it seemed like I was missing that.

Meeting Roscoe had been a lucky break. After leaving the service, I'd been at loose ends, searching for something. Roscoe gave me a new team to fight for—the family I never had.

While some clubs I'd encountered might say they were about the ‘life' or theteam,that wasn't always the case. They meant they were about the high or chasing the high, whetherthat was drugs,booze, or pussy. A lot of clubs were a mess because they weren't disciplined. The Brotherhood had plenty of fun, but we dealt with business first and partying after. The men weren't welcome if they had problems keeping their business clean.

The Brotherhood hada toughline regarding girls in the clubs, and some bikers didn't appreciate that. They wanted an MC that let them go wild with the girls. Roscoe wasn't down with that. He was disciplined and expected the rules to be followed. It was his way or no way.

The Iron Brotherhood owned a strip club in town where girls worked for cash, andmembers could go there if they wanted that sort of environment. It wasn't strictly for the MC, though– it was open to outsiders too. We allowed a few girls at the clubs, but theywere always treatedwell. Whatever happened was consented to by the women who worked in either place, which I appreciated. I think a lot of it changed for Roscoe once his daughter was born, but if a member wasn't on board with the concept,they were weeded out of the club.

"I'd appreciate that," Roscoe's reply was careful. "Thanks for having Helena's back on this."

"Not a problem. I'm happy to do it."

Maybe it should bother me, knowing that Roscoe was going to kill the prospect and dump him in a cistern. It didn't, though.

Later, Ileaned against the wall and watched the dancers twirl and gyrate on stage while the MC members relaxed. The Open Road was attached to the living quarters — a bar and club lit up tonight with neon stage lights and dancers on the pole.The whole area was filledwith tables and booths that fit between the long bar and the stage in the back. When we did have entertainment,the stage was lit, andmusic was pumpedfrom the speakers.

Typically,the tables and bar were so crowded that even standing room was scarce.Roscoewouldn't let the stagebe occupiedtoo often—parties got pretty rowdy, but they were a good way for the brothers to let off steam.

I'd only recently been patched into the Iron Brotherhood and was stilllearninghow their inner circle worked, but hopefully, soon, I'd find a room here onsite. It seemed like the place to be. It'd only been a few years since my discharge from the army, but it felt right.

My eyes caught Helena in the doorway. She pausedmomentarilyas she peered in, obviously looking for someone. Myguess was her father. She darted to him for a second,utterlyoblivious to the attention she brought. It looked like tiny fluorescent origami birds were swinging from her ears. The girl had a crazy taste in earrings.

She was just barely over sixteen years old right now and beyond beautiful. I'd never seen hair that color of blonde before, golden, thecolor of wheat fields in the summertime, andcornflower blue eyes. She sparkled with such light. One day, shewould be a woman, but not yet.

Those blue eyes slid over to memomentarilyas she kissed her father's cheek before bolting out of the club area, but I carefully looked away.