Maverick (Hell's Handlers MC 2)

Mav’s stomach soured. With one violent move, Shark and King managed to destroy the sense of security Mav had found within the club. Despite everyone he talked to promising him they’d never vote him out of the club, Mav felt the same as when he’d been a thirteen-year-old orphan, standing out on the street gawking at his neighbor’s family dinner through their window.

Six of them had been gathered around a beat-up old table. The younger kids were fighting over who got to sit next to their father, their mother was swatting them with her dish towel when they made a face at a dish of vegetables, and the whole family was belly-laughing at something the teenage son said. It was so far removed from any experience Mav had with family, he couldn’t tear his attention away.

Loneliness and isolation were gut-wrenching feelings at any age, but even more horrible for a teenager. All he’d had to go home to was a fucked-up foster situation where he’d literally fought for his life against other boys the family fostered.

And now, here he was again. Without his brand. Without the most critical link to his brothers. Standing outside, looking in at the family.

“Grateful Toni ended Shark’s sorry-ass life but, man, I wish I’d gotten ten minutes alone with him,” Jig said, rubbing his knuckles.

You and me both, brother. Though no one probably felt that way more than Zach, whose woman had been abused by the bastard. He was quiet, but cracked his knuckles under the table, a telltale sign their club’s enforcer was pissed and looking to let his fists fly free.

“Second that,” Rocket said. Rocket wasn’t much of a talker. Tended to live in his own head more than anything, so for him to speak up at that moment meant something to Mav.

Agreements went around the table, each man looking Mav straight in the eye when they expressed their sorrow for what he’d endured.

“We all know what’s in the bylaws. No brand, no patch. But I think it’s safe to make an exception in this case. Plastic surgeon told Mav there was no way in hell the skin graft would ever survive a branding. Even if it would”—he shook his head then looked at Mav—“I don’t feel right about touching you with heat after what those scum-suckers did to you.”

Felt good to have his president behind him, but Mav would get rebranded in a heartbeat if the option was on the table. Hell, he’d get it anywhere on his body, but there was limited ink-free real estate and the bylaws said it had to be left arm, so he’d just be putting himself through more torture for no reason.

“Doc did say he could ink it after it heals. If the vote goes for him to stay, Mav said he wants to ink the brand in the exact same spot, if that’s cool with everyone. Anybody got problems with that? Now’s your chance to say your piece before we put it to a vote.”

No one made a peep.

“Okay then, vote on the table is for Mav to remain in the club, keep his position as road captain, and have the brand inked. I’m one hundred percent for all of it.” Copper raised his meaty hand. “All in favor.”

Maybe it was stupid and chicken-shit, but Mav couldn’t watch. He closed his eyes and held his breath.

“All against.”

Copper chuckled. “Open your eyes, asshole. Vote’s unanimous. You ain’t getting away from us that easy.”

The sense of relief was dizzying. Blinking his eyes open, he came face-to-face with his entire laughing MC.

“You were seriously worried about this, brother?” Zach asked, laughing loudest of them all.

“Screw you.” Man, he loved his family of brothers. They could heckle him until they turned blue, but none of them had grown up the way he had. Alone, disconnected, unloved. Screwed with a man’s head. Most of the time, Mav had that shit locked down as part of the forgotten past, but this whole ordeal had dragged it to the surface.

“Everyone get the hell out. Honeys are waiting on you out there. Have a fun night, boys.” Copper wasn’t one to hook up with any of the Honeys, at least not since Shell moved back to town six or so months ago.

Zach’s heavy hand landed on Mav’s shoulder as he stood, nearly sending him flying across the table. “Let’s go, brother. Get you some booze and some pussy, start forgetting this shit ever happened.”

They walked out together, and seconds after exiting church, Zach spotted his woman chatting with a few ol’ ladies at the bar. In no time, he had her wrapped up and receiving his near violent kiss. Mav scanned the room before he had the good sense to remember Stephanie had left ten hours earlier. He’d given her his number, and she’d promised to get in contact when she purchased a new phone.