Rocket (Hell's Handlers MC 5)

But they were the wrong arms. And the wrong voice. And the wrong man.

So it did nothing to quell the heartbreak or ease her guilt.

He was so angry with her. Angry enough to end it? Of course, there was no screaming match. No hurled accusations or words of hatred. Words weren’t Logan’s style. But that look? That glare that conveyed what words never could? How she’d stolen something from him. That look would remain with her for the rest of her life.

She turned her head and watched him ride off through watery eyes.

When he was out of sight, she pulled out of Screw’s embrace. Copper peered down at her. “You did good here today, Chloe. Your man doesn’t agree right now, but he can’t see past his hatred of Lefty. Club has rules, strict ones. Had he continued here today I’d have been forced to take his patch and worse. You saved his ass, girl.”

Didn’t feel like she’d done anything but turn her life upside down once again.

“Come on.” He slung a heavy arm across her shoulders. “Let’s get you to Izzy. If there’s anyone who’s good company when a man’s being an idiot, it’s Izzy.”

Chloe cracked a smile because she felt he expected it, but her heart wasn’t in it.

Worst part of the entire afternoon was that she’d make the same choices again given a do over. The club was Rocket’s life. How could she let him risk it all to avenge crimes committed against her?

She couldn’t. Simple as that.

Too bad that thought wouldn’t keep her warm through the night.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

ROCKET SPLAYED HIS hands on the bar, head hanging as he fought for control of his emotions. Not a phrase he’d ever thought in reference to himself. On a normal day, emotional shit was easy. Turn it off. Compartmentalize. Shove it deep in the vault. Thanks to Chloe, he’d been bombarded by every goddamned feeling he’d refused to allow in the past.

But there were two he was achingly familiar with.

Fury and guilt. The two emotions that registered as soon as he heard Chloe’s scared voice through the phone. They had taken over, clogged his brain and heart until nothing else could penetrate their thick walls. And the fury grew to epic levels once his chance at torturing Lefty was shot to shit.

The clubhouse door flew open, bouncing off the wall with a loud bang. Copper’s body filled the space. “Everyone out!” he shouted. “Right fucking now.”

As much as he’d love to hightail it out of there, Copper’s order didn’t extend to him.

Thunder, one of the newer prospects, froze mid-pour. He glanced from Copper to Rocket. He could obey the damn order after he finished getting Rocket his drink. With a wave of his hand, Rocket urged him to continue.

“Uh, yeah, man, here.” He capped the bottle with one hand while pushing the not full enough tumbler across the bar. “I’m outta here.”

“The fuck is this?” Rocket asked lifting the glass which couldn’t have held more than an ounce of whiskey.

With a snort, Thunder rounded the bar. “That is me obeying the prez. Something I hear you forgot how to do.” His hand landed on Rocket’s shoulder as he walked by. “Good luck, man. Think you might need it. The big man looks like he’s been chewing bullets.”

“Fuck you,” Rocket said before downing the meager amount of alcohol. “I’ll remember this shit when it comes time to vote you in.”

Thunder just laughed and jetted toward the exit with a “Hey, Prez,” on his way out.

The drop of whiskey he’d consumed wouldn’t do shit to numb the fucking feelings he’d grown so he reached across the bar and helped himself to the bottle Thunder had abandoned. Fuck the glass. He unscrewed the cap and took a long drink, aware of Copper’s hard stare the entire time.

“You done?” Cop asked as his heavy tread sounded across the floor. The boot he wore on his left leg thumped along making Rocket wonder how the hell the prez had managed to sneak up on him at Chloe’s house. He’d just been that zoned out, intent on destroying Lefty.

“Just getting started.” Rocket set the bottle down and turned to face his president. He wasn’t stupid, he knew he’d crossed about a hundred lines this afternoon. He just wasn’t sure he had it in him to be sorry. But one look at the fury on his president’s face had him second guessing that theory.

Copper wasn’t just pissed, he actually looked sad. And that gutted Rocket ten times worse than anger ever would.

“Here’s how this shit is gonna go,” Copper said, taking a seat at the bar. He faced Rocket head on and when he paused, the quiet room seemed to mock Rocket’s thoughts. “I’m gonna talk and if you have any desire to hang onto that patch, you’re gonna keep your fucking mouth shut. Think you owe me at least that much respect. Yes?”