Doc (The Kings of Mayhem MC Tennessee 2)

Startled, Max jumps in his chair, and then tips his head back to roar with laughter. “Oh, this is even better than I thought it would be.”

“We’re leaving.” Jack stands and gives Max one final warning, “We’ll see you when you get out.” He heads for the door, but I hang back.

There’s no way I can retreat.

Not when I can stand and fight.

“Doc,” Jack growls.

But I ignore my president and keep my focus on Max. “You’re a real piece of shit. You know that?”

Max presses his cuffed hands to his chest as if he’s wounded. “If you keep calling me names, I might just cry.”

I take a step forward and stare down at him, a dark rage burning like hellfire in my brain. I don’t care if he can see my rage. I’m beyond caring. “You’d be better off dying in here,” I say, leaning closer to the glass. “Because when I get my hands on you, you’ll wish you were already dead.”

Max’s smirk slips, but I don’t hang around to watch him scramble to replace it. Ready to combust with rage, I turn and walk away.

“Go on now…” I hear the clang of handcuffs behind me as he waves. “Run along like a good little boy.”

Ignoring Max’s taunts, I join Jack on the other side of the room.

“Hey, this is how the game works,” Max calls out as we disappear through the door. “You take something from me, and you’ve got to expect me to take something from you.”

DOC

Back at the clubhouse, Jack and I sit in the bar with Shooter, Ares, and Pinkwater. My nerves are so frazzled I almost crush the shot glass I’m holding with my fingers.

The rest of the Kings are with their families at the aircraft hangar, but Jack and I need to decompress after our meeting with Max.

“Is it true? Is he going to walk?” I ask Pinkwater.

“If we don’t find something substantial that ties him to the bombing, I’m afraid so. But it’s early days, and we have a forensics team from Jackson City working on it.”

“He’ll fucking walk,” Jack snaps, refilling his shot glass with whiskey and knocking it back. He slams it against the bar and looks at Pinkwater. “And just so you know, I am going to kill him.”

Pinkwater gives his friend a pointed look. “And just so you know, I didn’t hear that.”

I shake my head, not convinced we have the full picture. “What’s the point of hanging around town to be arrested?”

Something isn’t right about it.

The whole thing seems too simple, too easy.

“It was a safe way for him to taunt us without me putting a bullet in his fucking head.” Jack slides a shot glass full of whiskey over to Pinkwater. “He wanted a sit down with us. Wanted to play his games and enjoy the aftermath of the bombing.”

“I know that, but something seems off.”

“You think he’s got something else up his sleeve?” Pinkwater asks.

“I don’t know. It’s just a feeling I can’t shake.”

“I second that feeling,” Shooter says. “He gave in too easy.”

Unease creeps up my spine.

Have we missed something?

I turn to Pinkwater. “What did he say to you when you arrested him?”

“The usual shit… these cuffs won’t be on me long, that kind of thing. If I had a dollar for every time some crim said that shit to me, I’d be retired.”

I think about what he said to me. “You take something from me, and you’ve got to expect me to take something from you.”

At the time, I thought he was talking about the attack on the clubhouse, but what if he was talking about something that hasn’t happened yet?

The realization hits me with the force of a tornado. “He hasn’t finished with us.” I reach for my phone. “The clubhouse bombing was a fucking distraction, and we’ve done exactly what he wanted us to do.”

“Which is?” Shooter asks.

“Lowered our guard.” I find the prospect’s number and hit the call button, but he doesn’t answer. “Dammit.”

“We need to get back to the aircraft hangar,” Jack says, already grabbing his bike keys off the bar.

“No,” I say, a cold dread already settling over my body. “We have to get to the hospital. He’s not coming after us. He’s going after the girls.”

LILY

“Goddammit!” I kick the vending machine with my boot when the Snickers bar I just paid for gets caught in the coil. When the kicking doesn’t dislodge it, I attempt to shake it, which only earns me squished boobs and sore fingers. “You’re not going to win, do you hear me? That Snickers is mine. Mine. So, if you think you can steal my two dollars and get away with it, then you’ve got another thing coming, buddy.” I rock the machine, and the wire coil eventually gives up the chocolate bar, sending it to the trough below. Bending down to retrieve it, I pat the glass. “Nice try, buddy. But a word of advice? Don’t stand between a pregnant woman and her chocolate of choice because you’ll never win.”