In fact, it was the only way brothers worked out their shit. It wasn’t like they talked about their fuckin’ feelings over bullshit cocktails or something. That’s not the way men worked. That sure as shit wasn’t the way the Sons of Templar worked at least.
But it was necessary to acknowledge shit that came up between brothers. Sort it immediately. Because rifts could fracture a club. Could fucking ruin it. Especially when you needed to be prepared to die for your brother. Even if you felt like killing him.
It was growing pains too. The club was new. A mix up of nomads, of patched members from other charters willing to relocate to repair New Mexico.
Not everyone was gonna fit.
Not everyone was here for the right reasons.
They’d weeded out most of that at the beginning.
It was ugly.
But Jagger had thought they were getting there. Had warmed to most of them, since he’d known most of them, not counting the prospects. And he thought the prospects had the makings of good brothers.
But Swiss and Hades.
He hadn’t warmed to them.
Mostly because they were cold-blooded motherfuckers. Exactly what the club needed at times like this.
But not what fucking Caroline needed to see. She didn’t need to be breathing their fucking air, let alone watching Swiss torture someone.
And Claw. He was as ruthless as them all, but at least there was a bit of human in his monster. He had decided not to kill him for putting his hands on Caroline after seeing his absolute change with her once he heard her story. He knew he had her back. Liked her. Maybe too much. But that worked for him right now. Another man, another brother, to keep an eye on her. He’d deal with that man, that brother, for having that eye too south of her hips and north of her ribs at a later date.
He cracked his bleeding knuckles under his president’s stare.
“You feel better?” Hansen asked calmly.
“Better?” he hissed. “You think a couple of punches is gonna make up for the shit he pulled? This is a serious fuckin’ offense. Showin’ our business to a civilian. A journalist at that. My—” he cut himself off before he said ‘his woman.’ Though that might’ve been what she was. Always. But not something he could ever say out loud. He didn’t deserve to lay claim to her out loud. “There needs to be a full table.” He looked around the empty seats. Hansen had brought him in here after three brothers and one prospect managed to tear him off Swiss.
The fucker grinned at him with bloodstained teeth.
Then he’d lunged again.
Jagger had knocked a tooth out. It was embedded in his hand until he’d yanked it out and tossed it at Swiss’ boots.
Hansen didn’t glance around the table. “She’s invited to write her story,” he replied.
Jagger gritted his teeth. “Yeah, and I thought it was bullshit about fuckin’ parties, club girls. Nothin’ real. It was nothin’ but a farce to make sure she wasn’t gonna rat.” He paused, understanding washing over him. “This was you,” he clipped through his teeth. He had to hold himself still. Very fucking still. He didn’t trust himself to even twitch a fucking finger because he might start attacking his president. His best friend. His brother.
His best friend and his brother had ordered to have his woman taken to watch a man be tortured and murdered. He’d ordered Caroline to have more scars on her soul.
Hansen watched him. Waited. As if he expected him to lunge. Hansen read people. He’d known Jagger for all the years he’d been at the club, which mean he knew him. Which was why Jagger was so fucking shocked at the clear knowledge that he was behind this.
“This needed to be done.”
He’d always admired Hansen’s ability to stay calm in the most volatile of situations. Thought it was what made him a great brother, father, and president.
But right now, he wanted to wring his fucking neck for it.
He slammed his fists down on the table. “Like fuck it did!” he roared. “Caroline did not need to see that shit. That’s not shit women should have to fucking see. Not her.”
Hansen’s eyes softened at the corners. With something resembling pity.
That was worse than his trademark calm.
“Agree with you on that one. Good women should never have to see the ugliness of this world.” He paused long and hard, likely thinking of his own woman, what she’d seen. What she’d done. “Unfortunately, it’s the best and most undeserving of women that see some of the ugliest shit that would undo even most men. That’s what makes them into something more than good women. And I know you’ve become educated on who Caroline is. Macy showed me her reports. This isn’t the worst she’s seen, brother. Not by far.”
Jagger struggled not to flinch.