Curly (Hell's Handlers MC Florida Chapter 1)

Not a torturer.

But they could deal with that later. “So here’s the plan.” Neither he nor Brooke had let go, so they sat at the table still holding hands. “Jinx and Pulse are obviously going since they set this all up. They can take Scott and Lock with them. Their objective is to learn as much as possible about the setup and security and to find any weaknesses we can exploit. Don’t worry so much about the specifics of the building because the next one might be somewhere different, but try to find patterns in how they guard the place.” He looked at the three who’d be in the thick of it. “We have one night to come up with a definitive way to end these dog fights.”

He wanted Prick’s property as well, but that was a secondary problem.

“The rest of us will be close by as back up just in case something goes—"

“I’m going too,” Brooke announced.

“Uhh…” Scott’s attention shifted to Curly, as did everyone’s.

He was hit with instant and consuming nausea at the idea of Brooke being anywhere near the dog fights. She’d lose her mind and probably try to release each of the dogs right then and there. Not to mention Prick would take one look at her and know why she was there.

“There’s no way in fucking hell I’m letting you anywhere near those fights,” he said as he tightened his grip on her hand. Did she have any idea what Prick would do to her if he saw her there? He’d nearly attacked her in a crowded bar. Get her on his turf, and there was no saying what would happen to her.

Brooke’s mouth dropped. “Excuse me?” she asked with an incredulous laugh.

“You heard me.”

“It’s on now,” Jinx whispered.

“Uhh,” The rest of the guys stood and began shuffling toward the house. “We’re just gonna go over uh, yeah…” Tracker nodded once then chased the others into the house. After letting out a yip of excitement, Harley bounded after them, stranding Curly alone with a furious Brooke in the backyard.

So much for brotherhood. Bunch of traitors.

“You’re out of your mind if you think you have any right to tell me what to do. I don’t take orders, Curly, and if you think fucking me once gives you any right to tell me what to do, then you’re delusional.” She yanked her hand from his, then stood and stalked across the yard.

Something deep inside him surged with pride at the way she wasn’t afraid to stand up for herself. The way she didn’t think twice about telling an outlaw MC president and man who’d spent more than a decade surrounded by murders behind bars to go fuck himself. The other part trembled in fear because that take no prisoners attitude would get her in a world of trouble in the wrong situation. Only one of the reasons she wasn’t setting foot within a mile of Prick.

He needed to see the guys out, so he left her for a minute to collect herself. She stood in his yard, hands on her hips, back rigid as she stared into the late evening twilight. Was she comparing him to her douchebag ex who’d controlled her every moment? With any luck, she’d realize he acted out of fear for her safety, not some sick need to have her bend to his will.

Hopefully, they could speak about it after the rest of the club left.

Because one thing was for sure, Brooke wasn’t setting foot near that dog fight.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

SO, SHE MIGHT have overreacted.

Okay, fine, she’d completely lost her shit.

But who could blame her? With both feet, Curly had stomped right on her hot button issue. Then he’d ground his heel down for good measure.

With a sigh, she stared up at the darkening sky. Stars were just beginning to pop out everywhere she looked.

Damnit. She’d acted like a child, hadn’t she? Thrown a fit and stormed off in a huff. Apologizing wasn’t easy for her. She’d spent so much of her marriage apologizing for who and what she was, along with trying to change both those things, that now her knee-jerk reaction was to balk at the idea of apologizing for her actions.

But as her therapist had reminded her on more than one occasion, she wasn’t, in fact, perfect, and accepting her own imperfections was critical on her path to true joy. She nearly snorted out loud.

No shit, she wasn’t perfect.

But what her therapist had meant was that she needed a reset on her insight. She would screw up on occasion, as everyone did. She would hurt someone else with her words or actions. She would lose her temper, be in a cranky mood, or even be a bitch. That was a natural part of humanity, and those who got burned in her fire deserved an apology. It wasn’t the same as being criticized for being who she was. It wasn’t the same as being told she was inadequate.