Vicious Prologue-Two Months Earlier

Twisting my stiff neck to ease the tension was accompanied by a loud pop. Ouch, that hurt. When had I gotten so old that aches and pains were an everyday occurrence? Oh yeah, since I joined the Army and put my body through hell and then let years pass me by. I was only a few years away from forty. How the hell had time gone by so fast? It seemed like I'd only been in my twenties a few years ago.

I'd gotten out of the Army a few years back, so the wear and tear should've stopped, but I just changed my work to a different kind. It was less damaging to my body, but I still worked hard. Going from being out in the field or training all the time to maintain my elite Delta Force status had been grueling. I still worked out these days, but not to the degree I had to then, but the damage was done. My work at the club's gun range, Infidels' Armory, wasn't physically taxing for the most part. It was more mental.

The mental part I found challenging was making sure not to strangle or punch idiots. Admittedly, I was lucky because the idiots weren't my fellow Infidels or generally the employees we had at the range. Yeah, a couple of them got on my nerves from time to time, but I was able to ignore them. It was the customers who came into the Armory. Some only came to shop our merchandise or to ask questions about weapons. Others came to shoot.

Since patching in a year ago, I'd gone from helping out in all the various businesses owned by the Infidels and working at the compound to coming to work here full time with Boomer, Phalanx, and Bullet. Boomer was the official manager, but the rest of us helped wherever he needed us, including manager duties. Phalanx and Bullet often were range safety officers, instructors, or worked on repairing guns. I did the range officer and instructor bits, plus about anything else they asked. Although, to be truthful, I hated it when I had to work the front and deal with the idiots.

Some people should never be allowed to walk into our kind of place, let alone pick up a weapon. I wondered how some had survived as long as they had. Talk about no self-preservation or common sense. Recalling one of the customers from today illustrated this perfectly. It made me close my eyes as I took a big swallow of my beer.

I'd say the guy who just came strolling in was in his mid to late twenties. As soon as I saw him, I sensed he knew nothing about guns, which was fine. Everyone had to learn was my motto. It wasn't his lack of knowledge about them that annoyed the hell outta me. It was what came out of his mouth when he came to the counter. I was behind it, along with a couple of others. It was my shitty luck to get him.

"Hey, man, I need a gun."

"Okay, what kind are you looking for? A handgun or a long gun? Any certain make, caliber, or model? Any particular specs you'd like?"

He gave me an uncomprehending look, and my warning bells went off. "I want a gun that can shoot a bunch of bullets at a time. Something cool-looking, like in those movies that've been coming out these past few years, with that one actor in them—the guy who was in the surfer movie years ago. I wanna be able to shoot like he does." There was excitement in his tone.

I knew precisely which movies he referred to and loved them. The main actor was a badass in those, but what he did and how he did it wasn't realistic. What added to my annoyance was when the doofus in front of me spoke, he held out his hand. He imitated a handgun, only he was holding it sideways, the way you see a lot of gangbangers and other criminals do in movies. Jesus, would people ever learn you couldn't hit shit if you held a fucking gun like that? I held in my growl of disapproval and fought to keep a somewhat pleasant expression.

"Sir, I can show you a few handguns we have, but know many of those in the movies were custom-made weapons. And the way they were used in the films isn't how they work in real life."

"Whatever, just show me some, dude."

The urge to tell him not to call me dude or I'd throat punch him was there, but I ignored it. Do not maim or kill the customers. Do not maim or kill the customers.

As I removed a few guns from the case to show him, I had to ask, although I knew the answer already. "Have you ever shot a gun before?"

"Nope, but I thought it was time I started to carry one, and it has to be something cool."

"I highly recommend that you have professional training before you start carrying a weapon. We offer classes here, which are great for learning. Some people take the concealed carry class to get one of those permits, while others take a beginner's class. Either will teach you the safety guidelines and other things you should know. The concealed class has a classroom component and then a range component."

He shook his head. "I don't need no class. I know you gotta try to push those to make your boss money, but it's a scam, man. It's not hard to figure out. You just put bullets in the clip and then shoot the damn thing."

I cringed at his use of the word clip. Goddamn television and books had started using that word, and it was wrong. Most people misused it. The bullets went into a magazine. The clip was a whole different part of the gun. I knew I was wasting my breath, but I had to say it. Maybe someone else standing nearby would hear me and take it in.

"Sir, since you're new to guns, let me explain a little about them. A clip is a piece of metal that holds a few bullets together to make loading multiple bullets into a magazine easier and faster. The magazine feeds the ammunition into the gun. All guns except revolvers and single-shot firearms have magazines. Those are some things you learn in our classes. We have seasoned shooters who take them. You can never be too safe."

He snorted and ignored me. From there, I gave him details on a few guns. He picked them up and held them wrong, but I didn't waste my breath. In the end, he stormed out when he found out he couldn't walk out with one within a few minutes. While we didn't have a mandatory waiting period in Texas, you did have to have a background check done first. He'd have to wait while we ran it, and it could take ten minutes to over an hour, depending on his name and a host of other things. When I explained how long it would take to fill out the form and get clearance, he got upset and left. It made me wonder what he had in his background.

Even thinking about him now aggravated me. I took another drink of my beer and looked across the room. Sitting in the clubhouse, it was a hive of activity. It was Friday night, and we were all here, including the old ladies and kids. It was still early, which explained why the families were still present. When it got late, they'd go home and leave the clubhouse to those of us who were single, which wasn't as fun as it used to be. It was down to me, Ashes, and Dragon, as the patched members still not paired up. On top of us, not that they had much time to party, were our three prospects—Colton, Cullen, and Tanner. Only the first two were here all the time. Tanner was away being a Marine, so we only had him when he was home on leave. This meant five of us had the hang arounds to choose from, and despite our increasingly falling numbers, there wasn't a lack of women coming to hook up.

Some were here to party and have sex. Others hoped they might catch a patch and become an old lady by sleeping with us. I'd had my fair share of hookups. I didn't hold anything against those who wanted to have sex. They were just like me. As for the others, well, they were wasting their time. I didn't see any of us making one of them our old lady. If it happened, she'd have to be an extraordinary woman. None of us wanted a woman so many of our brothers had fucked, and how would you trust she loved you versus just wanting a patch?

I scanned the common room until I saw the last few old ladies—Londyn, Bella, and Shain, who had joined the club's ranks. They were the ones I'd barely toyed with, debating whether one of them might be the one for me. I'd felt out the waters, so to speak, but it wasn't to be. Sure, I'd been a tad bent about it and had given my brothers a hard time at first, but the truth was, as attractive as they were, none of them truthfully gutted me when they chose one of my brothers. It hurt my pride more than it dented my heart. This told me that none of them was "the one" if there was one out there just for me. Who the hell knew? There was one thing I did know. If I found a woman I couldn't forget and who tied me in knots and who I'd do anything for, then I'd know she was the one. Until that happened, I'd sit back and enjoy my life.