28. King

Chapter 28

King

I wince as I take in the destruction that once was Ranger. Skull apparently is a master with a meat cleaver. It might even be his weapon of choice, since he's currently on the third one and there's two more nearby.

He has dissected Ranger piece by piece. I believe he started with the man's fingers, or hell, maybe his ears. It had to be small to begin with because Ranger somehow lived through it until Skull began chopping off his arm just below the elbow. There is no stopping the blood from spurting everywhere when an artery is severed. I know because I got here just in time for that show. Blood now coats the floors, and the wall Ranger was facing. I'm not a squeamish man by no means, but fucking hell, this might give me nightmares.

"When are we heading out?" I ask when the room fills with silence. I'm not sure Skull recognizes that Ranger is dead because he's still hacking away at the guy. I feel sorry for the cleanup crew on this one.

"Soon as Skull is ready. Bull made it back about ten minutes ago. He got a go at Ranger and then went to shower," Dragon answers.

"Skull gave up his cleaver for someone else?" Right now, I'm having trouble believing that.

"Nah, Bull grabbed a different one. He's the one that cut off the fucker's ear and tongue. Said if he couldn't talk or hear before, he couldn't have betrayed his son."

I nod. I think I could like Bull. He clearly keeps his head in this situation. Skull has let grief take over his rational thought process. He has no idea how much he has hurt his daughter. I found her slumped down in the hall, crying her eyes out. I picked her up and carried her to her room. Ayita—one of the Saint's Outlaws' old ladies, came running in. I stayed until she managed to get Gabby calmer. I stood by and heard her tell Ayita how her father blames her for her brother's death. I got so upset that I had to leave. That's the last thing Gabby needed unloaded on her right now.

I managed to get control of my anger, knowing there was nothing I could do. I want to get this shit over with, though. I need to get back to Virginia and somehow talk Shelby into trying to work this out. I want to get back to what we had when we first began. It was good. We at least need to try and see if any of our relationship is salvageable. We owe it to one another. Shelby is a good woman. My lifestyle is just too much of a shock to her. She can adapt. If nothing else, I can limit her exposure to the club. It's not ideal, and nothing like the relationship I imagined, but I'm okay if it means having the happiness that Shelby and I once shared can be found again. I think I fucked up when I surprised her one day and drove her to the courthouse for a marriage license and a quick wedding at the circuit judge's office. In hindsight, I should have talked to her and let her plan out what she wanted. I just wanted her tied to me. She didn't want kids—at least not right now—and I didn't like that there was nothing tying us together. Maybe I subconsciously knew that Shelby was having second thoughts.

I shake my head. I'm fooling myself. Shelby began having doubts when she started realizing that my lifestyle was violent, just like Mongrel's—her ex—was. Slowly, she began judging everything I did for the club. I couldn't please her, no matter what I did. Sighing, I admit to myself that I may have to leave the club if I'm going to save my marriage. It would kill me, but I'll do it for her.

I just hope it makes a difference.

"I need to check in with Ford," I answer. "I can be ready in thirty."

"Go ahead. I figure it will be an hour by the time we're ready here. That is, unless Skull doesn't clean up afterward." I look at Skull, any skin showing on him is red. His clothes are much the same.

"Good luck," I mumble. "I'll meet you guys out front in the garage," I tell Dragon. He nods as I take off.

We're in a building just down the street from the mill. Outside looks like a service station. In reality, it is the Saint's Outlaws clubhouse. It's kind of small but gets the job done. I think I've heard them talk about how they're taking over the old amusement park that the Feral Kings occupied. It makes a great setup for a clubhouse. I have to agree. The place could be sweet with a little TLC.

I don't bother getting on my bike. I just jog over to the mill and go straight to my room. I don't know that I need privacy, but I'd like to talk to Ford about my plans with Shelby. He needs to know that I'm going to be leaving the club.

Most of the men here are staying in the open basement. For whatever reason, Hangman gave some of us our own rooms. They're tiny—barely enough room for a full-size bed and a television with a small stand under it. The room where Ford stayed had a bathroom. I don't have that luxury, but I don't really care. I've slept in much worse. Flopping down on the bed, I dial Ford's private number. I'm dreading this conversation because I know he won't like my decision. I don't really like it myself but feel like I don't have a choice. I need to make this work with Shelby. I made promises and I'm not going to turn my back on them. If I do that, I'm no better than Dragon.

I frown at that thought. I'm confused. I'm still not sure the man my mother portrayed is who Dragon is. I saw the pictures and things he had his club send. There was a video clip that showed my mother slipping something into Dragon's drink. Another one showed him talking to a man in a Saint's Outlaw's cut and kicking him out of the clubhouse with his old lady—who was apparently my mother. I had no idea that my mother ever belonged to any club. I need to talk to Hangman about it, but I haven't found my nerve just yet. I'm almost afraid of what I will find.

Could it be possible that Dragon was telling the truth and he didn't know about me?

"King, I was just getting ready to call you," Ford says when he answers, thankfully pulling my attention away from my mother and the clusterfuck of secrets that surround me.

"Sorry, it has been busy here. We're getting ready to ride to Rutledge. By calculations, we'll be there sometime around midnight. I think the plan is to attack around one in the morning."

"You guys sure you got all the firepower you need?"

"Oh yeah. There are a couple branches of the Savage Brothers still here and the same with Devil's Blaze. Some guy named Beast showed up with his crew this morning. We're good."

"You need to be careful out there."

"Always am. Is there anything going on down that way I need to know about?" I don't think anything about it when I ask, but as Ford goes silent, I worry. "Ford? Do I need to come back?" I press when he remains quiet.

"No. The club is fine. It's not that, brother."

"Then, what is it? I can tell something is going on."

"Yeah. Shit, man?—"

"Just spit it out," I grumble, needing to know what is going on.

"Shelby came by today."

"Fuck, I missed her. I needed to talk with?—"

"She wasn't alone, King."

"Huh?" I prompt, not sure what he's getting at.

"She filed for divorce, King. There was a state police with her. He was serving papers. They could only serve them to you, but I know the guy. I agreed to take them and told him he could always tell them I lied and said I was you if there were issues."

"I'll head back the minute this is done. I think I know how to get her to drop it all. I'll have to?—"

"King, I think you should know she moved in with the cop. They've been living together for almost a month."

"A month? How is that possible? We're still together. I mean, she's been away with her grandmother?—"

"Her grandmother decided to move into a retirement village very close to where this cop lives. Shane—that's the cop's name—told me himself." I don't know what to say to that. I've been a fool. "King?"

"I'm fine. I may stay down this way a little longer. Ship me the papers to the SOMC's clubhouse. I'll sign them and send them back."

"Brother—"

"It's fine, Ford. Don't worry about it. I'll talk to you once we get finished in Rutledge."

"Watch your back, King. You hear me?"

"I hear you. Don't forget to mail those papers."

"I won't. I'm damn sorry, brother."

"Yeah, me too," I answer, hanging up.

I stare at my phone and throw it against the wall.

"Motherfucker!" I yell.

I stand up and punch the fucking wall, my fist going through the cheap ass paneling that's been painted over with some shitty yellow color. The destruction does nothing to make me feel better. I reach into my back pocket and pull out the picture of Shelby that I snapped on our wedding day. I look at the purple dress she was wearing. It's one I bought her a couple of weeks before our wedding. Her favorite color is purple and when I saw it hanging in the window, I knew she would love it. Right now, I'd love to burn the damn thing. I don't have it, so I do the next best thing. I pull out my lighter and light the corner of the photo. I throw it in a glass ashtray that is sitting on the TV stand and watch the flames eat up the photo until finally I can't see Shelby's face anymore. It doesn't help my pain, but it allows me to contain some of my anger.

Fuck it. She can be one more person in my life that turned their backs on me. I don't need her.

I don't need anyone.