Chapter Two

Wolf

Sitting at the clubhouse, with a bottle of bourbon beside my favorite ratty green chair and a skinny piece of club ass grinding on my junk, I try to will myself to think about anything else besides today's fuckup. Rock music blasts through the sound system and I let the music flow through me. Staring blankly past her, I try to think about the run we just got back from and how it all went to shit in the blink of an eye.

As the club enforcer, it's my job to ensure the safety of the club members. The fact that Sparrow is lying on a table in the next room while Doc digs a bullet out of his leg gets on my fucking nerves.

Shit shouldn't have happened the way it did. But as usual, the mother fucking Mongrels got in our business and turned shit upside down. What was supposed to be a simple drop off for the Mexican cartel got all fucked beyond comprehension.

Arriving at the warehouse twenty minutes before the drop was supposed to go down is our usual protocol. One of the guys would do a perimeter sweep while the rest of us got the cargo ready to be picked up. It should have been a simple run, one we've made a dozen times without any issues. But the Mongrels decided it was a good idea to try to rob us in the middle of our transaction. They came barreling in on a beat-up truck, all guns blazing probably without thinking anything through. The cartel got pissed, we got pissed, and bullets had started flying in every damn direction.

Luckily, we are still whole and so are the cartel because we for damn sure don't need a fucking cartel war on our street. We did kill two of the Mongrels' lower-ranking members and wounded their enforcer.

What I really want to do is find that fucking vice president of theirs in a dark alley and run a blade across his throat real slow as I watch the life leave his eyes. Viper is a fucking piece of work and enjoys inflicting pain, especially on those who can't defend themselves. I might be a fucked-up motherfucker but I don't hurt women and children. Never. That's where I draw the line.

Viper also likes to brag that he'll take any bitch he wants with or without her consent, and that shit grates on every last nerve I have. I'm so exhausted by those pussies constantly fucking around in our business that I'm going to call for full-out war the next time we go to church.

Getting up from my chair without caring about the skinny bitch on my lap, I watch as she falls to the floor in a heap. She has long, bottle-blonde hair that looks like it's lost a fight with a lawnmower. Her dark roots are grown out two inches and it only makes her look cheaper than we all know she is. Her tits are fake and huge and look ridiculous on her skinny ass.

As she sits on the floor, she makes no attempt to close her legs, and with her micro mini pushed up around her waist, there's no mistaking her pussy on display for all to see. The only thought running through my head is I'd lose my mind if my daughter ever disrespected herself that way.

She huffs from her spot on the ground and stares daggers at me. "What the fuck, Wolf? I thought we were gonna have a good time," she whines in her high-pitched, nasally voice.

Rolling my eyes, they go so far back in my head I worry they might get stuck. "Jessie, we've been over this before. There is no way on God's green earth that I am ever sticking my dick in your disease-ridden pussy. Damn, woman, I couldn't even get it up if I tried."

Starting to walk away, I hear her huff behind me. I know she's going to say or do something incredibly stupid, so I wait.

"Fuck you, Wolf. You can't get it up for anyone. Since that skinny bitch figured out she could do better than you and up and left, you've been a limp-dick pussy."

As the last words leave her lips, I circle her scrawny neck with one of my hands, lifting her from the floor and walk her back against the nearest wall. I hold her against the wall with her feet dangling in the air and see the unadulterated fear in her eyes. I lean in and I can almost smell the terror running off her in waves.

I softly whisper in her ear, "Amber didn't leave me, you dumb cunt. She's dead, and if you mouth off to me again, you will be too."

Pulling away, I smile at her, knowing I look like a damn shark because I'm using too much teeth. Slowly, I lower her to the ground. The moment I let go, she scrambles off like a small animal afraid of a carnivore in the woods. Letting loose a loud laugh, I have most of the heads in the club turning my way. I see curiosity in some but from most just amusement. This simply makes me smile even bigger as I give them the finger.

Fuck them. My brothers know me well enough to know I would never hurt a woman. Even though only a select few know me well enough to know what happened to Amber.

She was my high school sweetheart. We met at sixteen and I never have and never will love a woman the way I loved her. At twenty-four, I got Amber knocked up and even though I was terrified, I couldn't have been happier. Bought a house and started getting all our shit straight.

At twenty-nine weeks, Amber went into premature labor and due to massive hemorrhaging, she died on the table. Our daughter was born but only survived a couple of hours before she too passed. I got to hold her for a while and though it almost killed me, I never regretted that experience. I've had real love and I've lost it, and that's fine by me.

I'm a hard and difficult motherfucker. At one point in my life, I've lost everything that meant anything to me. Having loved and lost has made me harder than ever. Now I drink and work and spend time with my club. They are the only things I care about, all I have left. I'll do anything for my brothers and for my club.

Reaching down next to the chair I was sitting in, I grab my bottle of bourbon and head in the direction of where I last saw Doc and Sparrow. I enter the room and see Doc has Sparrow all wrapped up. They're smiling while chatting with each other. This only serves to piss me off. I feel like shit for letting my friend, no, my brother, get hurt because I'm incapable of securing his safety, and the two of them are simply shooting the shit.

"What's the damage, Doc?"

"No damage, Wolf, simply a graze to his calf. Two stitches and he's all fixed up. Didn't even have to numb the area."

Doc smiles at me but my face remains expressionless. I don't care if it wasn't serious. It could have been.

"Wolf." Sparrow stands from his spot at the table he was seated at. He's a tall man of Hispanic descent, with wavy, dark hair and dark-brown eyes. He still speaks with a Spanish accent and when riled up, you can't get a word of English out of the man.

"This isn't your fault, and I'm perfectly fine. You can't take this all on yourself, brother. Shit happens, you know?"

Usually, Sparrow is one of the only brothers who can calm my ass down, but not tonight. Tonight, I'm riled up and looking for a fight. "No, Sparrow, shit doesn't happen. People let shit happen to them."

With that, I stalk out of the room they were using to patch him up, across the main area of the club, and out the door to my bike. I ignore Sparrow trying to stop me. After jumping on my bike, I gun the engine as I make my way out of the compound and head home.