Repo (The Henchmen MC 4)

"Fuck you," he spat.

"With what? While we're talking about our brothers' body parts, I've seen you changing, Moose. You don't have anything a woman wants in those pants."

"Maze," Repo's voice called. It wasn't just my name; it was a warning.

And, well, I had hit my limit of shit I was willing to take.

"What?" I almost screamed back, every last drop of frustration spilling into my voice. "Last night Duke and Renny got into a knock down drag out and all you did was stand there and place bets! But because it's me you're going to pull the fucking 'boss' card a-fucking-gain?" I asked, still yelling, slamming Moose against the keg hard then pushing away from him. I moved across the bed, focusing all my anger on Repo. "He put his hand on someone else's old lady. He's lucky it's still attached to his body!" His hands dropped down by his sides, his hands curling up into fists as a muscle ticked in his jaw. But he stayed silent.

"She ain't wrong," Wolf declared, reaching for his woman and pulling her down on the ground with him so he could wrap a protective arm around her.

"Maze, you need to calm down," Repo said, his voice sounding tired.

Calm down? Calm down? The bastard...

"You need to stop..." I started, but was cut off by Reign's bark.

"Alright, enough," Reign said, obviously done with the situation. "Moose," he said inclining his head toward him in the truck bed, rubbing his wrist where I had twisted it, "Maze is right; you don't put your hand on a woman. Ever. And you certainly don't put your hand on your fuckin' road captain's woman. What the fuck were you even thinking?"

"She could have broken my brother's bac..."

"Then your brother should show a little more respect. You're out," Reign said in a lethal way that brooked no argument. "Your brother can stay if he shapes the fuck up. Now you've ruined enough of this party so get the fuck gone so we can all enjoy the rest."

Moose turned an almost comical shade of red as he fought to keep his mouth shut, knowing damn well that the last thing he wanted to do was start some kind of argument with Reign. He moved past me, slamming so hard into my shoulder that white sparks of pain made me grit my teeth to keep from hissing. He wasn't going to get a reaction out of me. He was out. He wasn't my problem anymore.

I hopped down off the bed, storming back toward the compound. I needed a minute to get myself together, take some deep breaths, repeat my mantras. Hell, even call K if I couldn't get myself under control. All I knew was I needed to get the hell away from Repo.

"Maze..." he said, his voice almost soft like I remembered it being when I was sick, as he tried to reach for my arm as I passed.

"Don't you fucking touch me," I hissed under my breath as I passed, trying to keep my eyes off him because if he looked at me, he would see the nonsensical cocktail of anger, sadness, betrayal, frustration, and defeat. And, well, I'd be damned if I let him see any more weakness from me.

I stayed clear of the basement, knowing Moose or Fox would be down there collecting Moose's stuff eventually and hung out instead in the bathroom, pacing the small space, murmuring the plan to myself under my breath.

Regardless of how Repo got down on me, I knew I had done the right thing with Moose. I also scored a point because he was out. He was out and that meant one less person riding me. It also meant I was one step closer to getting a patch.

So long as I could swallow my pride, bite my tongue, and just... deal with whatever else Repo and the others might throw at me.

Twenty minutes later, deciding I had wasted enough time of a good party on a bad mood, I made my way back out to the yard where a few of the men had congregated around the grill. The smell of hamburgers and hotdogs filled the air, making my stomach groan in protest of its emptiness.

"Sugar, honey, darlin'..." a smooth voice called from behind me, immediately making me stiffen.

"What?" I growled as I turned, brow raised, ready to take more sexism crap from whoever it was and knowing there wasn't much I could do about it.

And there was a guy. Really, it was hard to describe him. He almost had a greaser look with his thin face, slicked back hair, tight black pants, and white tee. But that wasn't exactly right either because he was literally covered in tattoos up to his neckline and had an eyebrow and tongue piercing. His deep green eyes didn't so much as drift below my neck and his smile seemed open and friendly.