Hard Road (The Untouchables MC 4)

I had my own fucking chair and my own fucking table, and if anyone dared to sit there, I’d break their fingers.

Not a woman, of course. I’d just tip her out of the chair and sit down. That had happened a few times with the club girls trying to get my attention before they learned their lesson. Wasn’t going to happen.

I was too busy slowly losing my mind for meaningless sex.

At first, it had been an act. The drinking and drugs. The tats. The dangerous stunts. Even the cigarettes and fighting. Now, I craved it.

In some sick fucking way, I was born for this.

If my parents knew, they would roll over in their graves. But they were gone and I didn’t believe in the afterlife. I was almost glad they hadn’t lived to see Billy put in the ground. Lived to see their last remaining son go dark.

Really, really fucking dark.

I lit a cigar and stepped out into the cool night air. The sky was clear and full of stars. It reminded me of fall in Rhode Island.

For a split second, I was back there. Home from prep school for Thanksgiving. My family waiting inside with a table full of food. Dad letting Billy and me have a couple of beers while we watched football, and Mom getting mad at him for it.

And now they were all dead. Every fucking one of them. Every single person I cared a lick about on the entire fucking planet.

Gone. Dead. And one of them, murdered.

It was a different world I lived in now. And not just because I used to be clean-cut and socially acceptable. I wasn’t exactly a perfectly behaved guy back then, but at least I looked the part.

My parents wouldn’t recognize me now. Billy would, though. He’d see right through the hardened façade to the pain behind it. He’d always looked up to me, no matter what. When I started smoking and drinking, he’d always wanted to try it. When I went to parties, he wanted to come. When I started driving around with girls, he’d been insanely curious about what actually happened.

I’d told him. I never lied to him. I would have done anything for that kid. After our folks died, he became more like a son than a brother. And I’d let him down.

But I wouldn’t fail him in this. I would avenge his death. Dante’s accomplice was going to lose his eyeballs too. There was only one, I was convinced. And he was in my club.

A noise caught my attention. It sounded like an animal in pain. Low laughter followed the sound. I cursed and strode around the clubhouse. If they were kicking a dog, I would beat the shit out of them. I would cut off something too. Something important. Maybe an ear. I could not fucking stand that shit.

I stopped short as one of my guys spat on the ground. Three guys stood around something on the ground. It looked like a bundle of rags. Not a dog. Too big to be a kid, but not much bigger.

“What the fuck is this?”

They turned to look at me. They looked scared. I clocked them one by one as they shuffled their feet. Fishtail, Sam, and Jerry, who everyone called Wingnuts. Three of the sleaziest guys in the whole club.

And believe me, that was fucking saying something.

We weren’t like the Untouchables or other clubs. We took all kinds. Dante had encouraged criminals and assholes to join up, with bonus points if they were mentally unstable. Now I was left dealing with their sorry asses.

I might be club Prez on paper, but in reality, I was just the King of Shit.

“This kid was crossing through. Uninvited.”

“Kid?”

“He was gonna mess with the bikes,” Jerry whined.

“Did you see him mess with the bikes?”

“No. But he was gonna!”

Idiots, I thought to myself. I jerked my head over my shoulder. I’d deal with their asses later.

“Go inside, you fucks,” I growled.

They did as they were fucking told. Fast.

I walked toward the shape on the ground. Fuck. The kid wasn’t moving. I couldn’t see much.

“You okay?”

A soft whimper rose from the bundle of rags.

“Can you stand?”

The shape moved, trying to get away from the sound of my voice.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” I said, reaching for the kid. I caught an arm and he turned to look at me. The beam from one of the security lights hit his face and I almost stumbled back.

Blue eyes in a dirty face. The biggest and bluest I’d ever seen. They were so blue I could have drowned in them. For a moment, I did.

They reminded me of Billy’s eyes.

But God help me, these eyes were even prettier. A beat-up baseball cap covered what looked like light brown hair. Those huge eyes dominated a dirty face with skin that looked like porcelain under all the smudges. Full lips, a small nose, and high round cheeks that belonged on a fashion model. The slim neck and shoulders made him look extra-delicate.