King's Reign (Sydney Storm MC 6)

No one had the chance to answer him, because a gun sounded from behind him. I ducked just in time to miss the bullets coming straight at me. Hyde went into action, lunging at the asshole who’d fired it. One of Zero’s men joined in, and soon we had a fucking shit-show of a brawl on our hands.

“Fucking hell,” Zero bellowed, wading into the fight and reefing the guy who’d shot at me out of the fight.

When he had him, he restrained him by gripping both his wrists together and locking an arm around his neck. Almost choking the breath out of him, he roared, “What the fuck have you done?”

The guy, who I presumed to be Royce, struggled in his president’s hold, rage pouring from him. When Zero eased the pressure on his neck a little, he spat out, “This is for what Storm did to Gibson!”

“Fuck. I told you to forget that shit,” Zero said.

“Yeah well, he was my cousin. No fucking way was I letting his death just sit like that. We had allegiance to him, and I don’t ever forget who my loyalties lie with.”

Zero spun him around and punched him, knocking him flat to the ground. Shoving his boot down on him, he roared, “Your fucking loyalty is to this club, brother. You just pissed all over that by pulling this shit.”

Yeah, he had. He’d also loaded a gun and aimed it at himself.

I crouched down beside him and pressed my gun to his temple. “Gibson was a piece of shit, so it makes sense to me that you are, too. I don’t play well with men like you.”

“King, he’s mine,” Zero said.

I shook my head. “No, he’s mine.”

I pulled the trigger, and without a second glance, I reared up and pointed my gun between Zero’s eyes. “Are we gonna have a problem, Zero?” I demanded, my body buzzing with the need to drive home the fact that Storm had control of this city. When he didn’t answer, I pressed the gun firmly to his head. “Answer me! Do you understand that if you step on our fucking toes, we won’t hesitate to retaliate? And when we do, we won’t care whose blood flows.”

He worked his jaw, his shoulders rock hard with anger. Finally, he spat out, “Yeah, I fucking understand.”

I watched him for another few moments before taking my gun off him and signalling to my guys that we were done here. As I took a step away from Zero, I said, “Keep your men in check, and we won’t have a problem.”

He jerked his chin at me. “Fucking remove yourself from my property or else we will have a problem.”

Axe was right—every day brought a new fire to extinguish. What he didn’t grasp was that I lived for this shit. It fed my fucked-up soul. It kept me dancing with the devil rather than becoming the devil. If I didn’t have my club to go to battle for, I would go out there and seek the shit out myself. And that was something I swore I would never do.

Sometimes not everything was as it seemed.

Sometimes you discovered something about a person that contradicted what you previously assumed to know, and it slanted shit in another light. And then you had to fucking reassess everything you thought you knew and make a new plan.

As I watched Detective Stark arguing with her husband on her front lawn, I got a feel for the woman and what her life consisted of. She’d presented herself as a ballbuster, and while I didn’t doubt she was at work, she was far from that in her own home.

Her husband was abusive, and her fear of him bled from every one of her veins.

“You will never fucking leave me, bitch!” he yelled, gripping her face so hard I could feel her pain. “I will find ways to stop you, and if you continue to battle me, I will take Marie from you, and you will never see her again.”

Motherfucker.

She tried to fight him off, furiously slapping him and pushing him, but she was no match for his strength. Finally, he let her go, shoving her to the ground. After spitting on her, he stalked to the Mercedes in the driveway and screeched out of there.

I left my bike and crossed the street. When I reached her, I jerked my chin towards her front door. “We have shit to discuss. Inside.” My tone left no room for a discussion on this; we would be talking, and we would be doing it inside.

She picked herself up off the ground and hurried inside. Fear still consumed her. I suspected that had more to do with her husband than me, but I would make use of it.

I followed her and closed the door behind us. She led me into a living room, and I took note of the warmth in her home. Family photos lined walls, and flowers and art filled other spaces. Leaning in close to look at some of the photos, I saw the couple with their daughter in most of them. An outsider who had no idea of what went on in this family would assume they were a happy one.

“What do you want, Mr. King?” she asked, wrapping her arms around herself. “I’m busy and have work to do.”

I drew my gaze from the photos to look at her. “How long has your husband been abusing you?”

She flinched. “I’m not about to discuss my—”

I clenched my jaw. “How fucking long?”