Copper (Hell's Handlers MC 4)

“Jesus. I’ll talk to him. Maybe he’s just gotten too used to the way shit’s done in prison.”

“Fuck that.” Zach’s face grew stormy. “We’ve both known plenty of men, brothers even who came back from the joint. They didn’t act like fucking douche bags at every turn.”

Zach had a point. “I know he’s always been a little tough to take, but when it comes down to it, he’s as committed to the club as any of us.” Tough to take was a nice way of saying Rusty could be a shit. He’d been that way since he was a child. Copper had bailed his ass out of trouble more times than he could count. But he was blood and had been handed a shit deal most of his life. Guy deserved to be cut a little slack. “Let’s see how this shit goes today, then I’ll find out where his head’s at.”

Just as Zach began to agree, the clubhouse door burst open, and Rusty made his entrance. He swaggered over to the bar and grabbed a bottle of whiskey. After a long swallow, he made his way to Copper and Zach. “Morning, ladies,” he said.

Copper frowned. “We got a two-hour ride, brother.”

“Know it, Dad.” Rusty sucked back another swig of whiskey then let out a resounding belch. “Just a little hair of the dog.”

“Shit, man, ever think about brushing your teeth?” Zach said, waving his hand in front of his nose. “You look like fucking roadkill. Smell worse.”

He did. Yesterday’s gray Henley was rumpled, his eyes were bloodshot, and a scraggly beard covered the once smooth skin of his face. Rusty looked like he’d been living on the streets rather than staying at the clubhouse the past few weeks.

“Had me an epic night, boys. Just rolled outta some chick’s bed about,” he looked at his watch, “’bout ten minutes ago.” He winked. “She had two roommates. Mmm, mmm, mmm,” he said kissing his fingertips like an Italian grandmother appreciating her slow-simmered sauce. “Good fucking night. Not that you boys would understand seeing as how you’re fucking the same old stale pussy—when you can actually talk your ol’ ladies into spreading their hairy legs.”

Neither Copper nor Zach laughed, but Rusty didn’t notice or didn’t care that his crass humor at their ol’ ladies expense wasn’t appreciated.

“Although,” he said, whacking Zach on the back. “I hear your ol’ lady used to get up to some pretty freaky shit back in the day. Way to go, brother. You bagged a wild one. You ever need a hand with her—”

“All right,” Copper broke in before Zach had a chance to commit homicide. He slung his arm across Rusty’s shoulders. What the fuck was his brother thinking with that below-the-belt-comment? Zach’s fists curled as his mouth flattened with displeasure. The club’s enforcer knew how to control himself, but taunts about Toni’s past were the one thing that could send him off the rails. Years ago, she’d been involved with a motherfucker who took advantage of her and messed her head up. The banger ended up being an enemy of the club and nearly killed Toni not even a year ago.

In Rusty’s defense, he hadn’t been around to see the devastation Toni went through with Shark. But Zach’s memories were too fresh for Rusty’s taunts. If Copper hadn’t stepped in, shit would have gotten ugly real fast. “Hey, Z, we’ll meet you outside in five.”

After nodding, Zach trudged outside without so much as a glance in Rusty’s direction.

“Something I said?” asked Rusty on a laugh.

Staring at the ceiling, Copper rubbed his beard. “Listen, Rust, you gotta put a lid on that shit. Hear me?”

“Oh, come on, that fucking pussy can’t take a joke?” He lifted the bottle, but Copper grabbed it before he could drink again. He was seriously considering making Rusty stay behind. They did not need the cops on their asses because his bike was swerving all over the goddamn highway.

“I’m serious, Rust. Hear you been pissing a lot of the guys off. You gotta tone it down. Shit’s different than it was before you left. Lotta guys got ol’ ladies now. They’re protective as fuck and won’t tolerate your hands-on ways or insults to their women.”

Rusty’s eyes narrowed, and he seemed to grow a few inches as his stance stiffened.

Jesus, was he gearing up for a fight?

“Giving me orders, Cop? This little lecture coming from my brother or my President?”

An ache formed behind Copper’s eyes. He didn’t have time for this shit. Getting Shell out from under Joe’s thumb was the problem of the day. Rusty’s behavior would have to wait. “Does it matter? Just want you happy and back with your family. Come on, let’s table this for now. We gotta move out if we’re gonna get there in time, and I’m sure as hell not walking in late.”