Hellion (Southern Rebels MC)

I lowered my gaze, tugging on my arm until he released me. “Only when he’s dead,” I murmured, my eyes heavy. Noah’s lips pressed together, but he didn’t say anything more. “You’ll be here when I wake up?” I asked urgently, forcing my eyelids to open and he nodded. I sighed in relief, letting my eyes close, as the alcohol pulled me into oblivion.

Chapter Five

Noah

I walked inside the Southern Rebel’s clubhouse, pausing to let my eyes adjust to the dim light. The place was oddly empty and when I heard yelling, I could guess why.

“Then get the hell out,” Johnny roared and Creed came slamming out of the back office, a ferocious frown on his face. He came to an abrupt halt when he saw me.

“Good luck,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Stubborn bastard.”

“I hope you’re talking about Johnny,” I replied, following Creed to the bar. He reached across the bar top, pulling a bottle out from under the counter. He tilted it toward me and I shook my head in the negative. He popped the top off and brought the bottle to his lips, taking a long swallow before he spoke again.

“Tell me you have something.” I didn’t and he sighed. “Clutch is gone,” he said roughly, his stare burning as he locked eyes with me. “Gone. I can’t lose him again. I won’t. So that means you get this shit taken care of, you got me?”

“I’ve got proof Rob was in town,” I answered, feeling the weight of Creed’s pain. “He won’t go away again,” I promised, knowing Creed’s biggest fear was Clutch getting locked up. “I’ll take care of it.”

He eyed me, his gaze lingering on the bruise darkening one side of my face. “Will you?” He asked softly, and the question sliced through me. I’d never known Creed to doubt me. He rubbed his face tiredly. “You need to pick a side, Noah.” He pushed away from the bar, ambling to the kitchen door. “No more straddling the fence.” He set his back against the door. “Good luck in there,” he murmured, glancing at the closed office door before disappearing into the kitchen.

I exhaled, letting out a low curse as I headed for the office. I knocked, irritation making it sharper than normal. “I ain’t in the mood for your shit, Creed,” Johnny barked and I twisted the knob, pushing the door open. He looked up at me and sighed. “Get your ass in here.”

Cigarette butts littered the ashtray and two empty whiskey bottles stood sentinel over the table. He leaned back, the cracked leather letting out a groan. “I see you got my message.”

“I did,” I answered shortly, walking toward the long, oval table Johnny was currently using as a desk but where the club normally met for meetings. “You have something?”

He nodded, sliding a folder piece of paper across the table. “Who was the hellion that answered the phone?”

I picked up the note, slipping it into my pocket without looking at it. “A friend,” I downplayed. His eyes narrowed and he leaned forward, suddenly intrigued.

“She got you by the dick or that damn bleeding heart of yours?”

I swore, turning away from him as I shook my head. “None of your business.”

Johnny lifted his hands. “Just looking out for one of my boys,” he drawled innocently.

“Really? Am I one of your boys? Or just a lackey?” Bitterness laced my voice and a wrinkle formed on Johnny’s forehead. “Y’all telling me I need to pick a side, but you gonna have my back when I do?”

Johnny stunned me when he let out a bark of laughter. “Pick a side? Boy, you wouldn’t be in here if I didn’t already know what side you were on.” He stood up, coming around the table as I stood there in shock. “The real question is when are you going to start standing up for yourself?” He motioned to the bruise around my eye. “At some point, you’re going to have to choose. I’ve let it go for a long time out of respect for you and your grandpa, but this time it’s gone too far, you understand?” I nodded, knowing Ronnie’s death had tipped the scales, but still caught off guard by his admission. He sighed. “You don’t have to do it alone.”

“Destroying what little family I have left?” I questioned, knowing my mom would be devastated if anything happened to Uncle Cal.

“Don’t confuse blood with family. They’re not always mutually exclusive.” Johnny didn’t elaborate, his expression closed off, as he flexed his fingers, curling them into a fist.

“Both.” Johnny glanced at me curiously and I rolled my shoulders uncomfortably. “To answer your question. She’s got me by the short hairs.” His expression changed, one lip curling. “What?” I barked, unable to decipher his expression.

“Those are the dangerous ones,” he answered, clearly amused now. “We call them old ladies.”