It Ain't Me, Babe (Hades Hangmen 1)

As we entered the bar, the psycho trio shot to their feet.

“Fuckin’ Prez!” Viking shouted, walking toward me, arms wide. “Taking on the Nazis on his own and living to tell the tale!” Viking tried to pick me up, but I punched the redheaded f**ker in his stomach.

AK slung an arm around my shoulder as Flame stopped in front of me, muscles twitching. “Did you kill ’em all?” he asked with urgency.

I nodded, the flame tattoos on his neck dancing beneath his bulging veins.

“Did they suffer?” he asked coldly, his pitch-black eyes wide with excitement. The brother looked like a walking demon, irises so dark his pupils were lost in one black pool against white.

Badly, I signed.

Flame broke out in a wide smile, tipped his head back, and raked his over-long nails down his arms. “Fuck yeah,” he hissed, blood beginning to spill.

One by one, every brother in the chapter greeted me, leaving only Rider at the end of the bar. I met his eyes. He stared right back, then stood and came over.

“Good to see you made it out safe, Prez.” He held out his hand for me to shake. I glowered at his outstretched arm and thought of him back in my room, forbidding Mae to bathe me. My lip curled in disgust. She’s my f**kin’ woman.

“Prez, come on, brother. I was wrong. I get it now. She’s yours,” he said just for us to hear. I reluctantly reached out to grip his hand. My eyes said it all to him. Back the f**k off Mae or we’ll have problems. Okay?

The brother nodded his head. He knew what I was saying.

“You been f**kin’ your bitch?” Viking said from behind me, sniffing the air. He looked at me and smiled. “I can always smell new pu**y, and you’re stinking of that shit, Prez!” He laughed loud for everyone to hear.

Rider ripped his hand away from mine and he staggered back, slumping to his seat, eyes down. The brother was in a whole world of pain.

Ky appeared at my shoulder. A second or two later, Viking was knocked out on the floor.

“Shit, Ky!” Viking shouted from the ground, rubbing his chin. “Stop with the f**kin’ punching!”

“Then start shutting the f**k up!” Ky shouted back.

I signaled for the brothers to move in. Ky stood beside me, ready to translate, as the brothers watched us with alert expressions.

Pit’s a rat, I signed, as Ky’s voice carried the intel round the room.

Deathly silence.

I’ve thought we’ve had one for a while now. Ky found the evidence today. Of the whole f**kin’ thing. Leaked details on the Russian deal, the ride out shooting, and the Nazis near-attempt on our compound tonight.

“Who’s he working for? The Feds? Another MC? Mexicans?” Viking asked. The idiot shit gone, stone-cold killer in its place.

I shook my head. Don’t know. Ky called Pit in. He should be here—” The sound of a bike rolling into the yard stopped me dead. Right about f**kin’ now, it seems.

Flame growled and began punching his fist in the other hand. “Is he mine? Please say he’s mine. I want him to be mine.”

The door opened and Flame flew at Pit, the prospect didn’t even see the first fist coming… or the second… or the third. Flame picked Pit up off the floor, his feet dangling as he was smacked up against the wall.

“You f**kin’ piece of scum!” Flame ground out through clenched teeth. “Did you think you could turn coat without us finding out? Without us stripping off your skin, piece by piece to eat your flesh for barbecue?”

Pit’s face reddened and shock spread all over his features. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about! Flame, I don’t!”

Get him to the shed. Now. Ky voiced my command.

In minutes, we were all in the shed out back, Flame and AK strapping Pit to the chair in the center of the room.

Pit looked my way. “Prez, honestly, believe me. I don’t know what you think I’ve done, but I ain’t no rat. I’m all in. This club’s my life. I ain’t got nothing else.”

Ky flew at Pit, his hands braced on each arm of the slaughter chair. “Found shit in your room, brother. Security tapes and a cell phone with messages showing dates of all the drops, the location of the ride out, everything. Tank, Smiler, and Bull are out tracing the receiving number now, but I’m thinking it’s gonna come back to the Feds or Senator Collins. Am I right?”

Pit paled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” he screamed. “What tapes? What cell? I didn’t have shit in my room!”

I walked to my knife cabinet, feeling Pit’s eyes on me the entire way. Fucker was lying, his eyes twitching all over the place.

“Styx. You have to believe me, please…” he pleaded.

Finding my Bundeswehr knife, I moved before him as Flame ripped open Pit’s shirt, his thin body gonna prove all kinds a’ interesting to carve up. Less fat, harder to miss organs. Then again, he was gonna die tonight regardless. So who gave a shit?

Spinning the handle in my hands, I pressed the tip to his sternum and began dragging it down, the stench of copper filling the room, Pit’s screams ricocheting off the high walls.

I stood back after a few minutes admiring my signature Hangmen “H” now forever imbedded in his chest. Now everyone will know who he f**ked with. Flame ripped the knife from my hand, wiping the blood across his now bare and scarred torso, laughing hysterically.

He got in Pit’s face. “Who’re you working for?”