This was his mistake. The biggest fucking mistake he’d ever made.
“I want to come in and apologize.”
“You should be going and servicing one of the men. I don’t want you in my office.”
“I did what I thought you’d want. She’s a rat. A traitor.”
“No, she wasn’t.”
Darla shook. Her clothes barely covered her body. The sight alone sickened him. Before he’d met Ava, he’d fucked this woman a few times. She’d never been a favorite. It was what a lot of club pussy hoped to be, a favorite.
“You need to get the fuck out before I throw you out of the club for good.” He was tempted to do that already. Raven had already approached him and offered up her patch. Her guilt equaled his.
“I … let me make this good for you. You’ll forget about her before long, and I know I can make you love this.”
Smokey started to laugh. The idea of ever being fine with anything again fucking sickened him. “Fine. You think I’m fine with the fact the woman I love can’t stand to have me touch her?”
He got up and rounded the table. Darla didn’t move, so he made sure she moved. He grasped her neck and started to march her outside of his office, speaking as he did. “Let’s get one thing clear, the only reason you’re still around is because you were acting on orders. If I could, I would have you buried six feet under, alive. I’d make sure you knew pain long before I granted you an easy death. You want to stay alive, I suggest you stay as far away from me as possible, because I will end you. I’ve killed bitches before, and I’ve got no problem hurting you.”
And yet you didn’t raise a hand to Ava. You let others do your dirty work. Why was that?
He slapped his head, trying to shut off the voice taunting him. He knew the reason why. There was no silencing the truth. He’d been able to hurt Ava with words, but that was all it was, words. None of it had any meaning. Physically hurting her was a whole other thing entirely.
After entering his office, he slammed the door closed and hoped no one else interrupted his thoughts.
Carlos Santigo had already gotten in touch about a bunch of product landing at one of the ports. They wanted them to be there for when the transition went through. Their men would be present to do the hand-off, but they would be doing the drop-off.
Right now, Smokey wasn’t interested in leaving town or being far away from Ava. Not with him waiting for Creed to make the next move. He didn’t like being kept out of the loop. With his men ready to kill, he wanted to be prepared.
Creed would make his move, and when he did, he’d be ready for him.
Hunter arrived minutes later. “Hanson said he’s all yours.”
Getting to his feet, he made his way straight to the basement. Once again, the brothers gave him a wide berth, not wanting to get under his feet.
As he advanced on the man tied to a chair, Ryan groaned then laughed. One of his eyes was swollen shut. Knives were protruding from his legs and hands. Hanson had really gone to town.
“You look like shit.” He grabbed a chair and dragged it across the basement floor.
“I’m still prettier than you.”
Smokey laughed. “Yeah, well, the chicks will still be hanging off my dick. So, tell me, Ryan, why did you do it?”
Ryan groaned. “I don’t have to tell you shit.”
Smokey reached out, taking the handle of one of the knives and twisting it.
Screams filled the air.
“You don’t have to tell me shit, but you see, I’m better at this than Hanson. First of all, you didn’t get me stabbed and landed in the hospital, and well, I got a better deal out of it. I’m fine.”
“What about that chick you’re banging?” Ryan asked. “How’s she handling it?”
Smokey froze. “What the fuck?” he asked.
“I was there when Creed made the decision to go after your woman.” Ryan laughed. “I didn’t know shit was going to go down like that when I made my deal. I didn’t want to betray you, Smokey. I needed the money.”
“I pay you well.”
“Not enough. The bar doesn’t make enough, and I like shit.” Ryan started to sob. “Creed said he’d protect me, but the moment he made the decision to go after that fat fucking slut, he cut me loose. Then Santigo picked me up, and the rest is history.” Ryan let out a cough.
Smokey stared at him, sickened. “All of this is about money?”
“Money is everything.”
“Money’s not everything.”
“Says the man who has it all. Live in my shoes for a couple of hours, and you’d see why.” Ryan shrugged. “You didn’t pay me enough.”
“The bar is mine now. We’ll see how much we can get that bar to make.”
“You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?” Ryan asked, already pissing himself as he said it.
Smokey stood up. He pulled the blade from Ryan’s thigh and without warning, stuck it in the man’s neck.
He watched as the last rays of life left Ryan’s eyes. The man’s head slumped forward.
Hunter was on the stairs.
“Clean this shit up.”
He went out of the clubhouse and toward his bike. Straddling the bike, he turned over his ignition and then gunned out of the main grounds, taking to the open road. Killing Ryan didn’t fill him with regret. It didn’t do anything for him. There was no victory here. He felt nothing.
Money.
Greed.
It was all the same kind of shit.
He was done with people.
Ava. He wanted his woman. He’d failed her.
There had to be a way of getting her back. He didn’t know what he could do. There was no fucking hope right now. She wouldn’t accept money from him, nor his help, or his time. He was failing at everything.
Smokey didn’t know where he was going until he saw the sign confirming he was in Creek Springs. Twisted Bastards territory.
He didn’t give a fuck about the danger surrounding him. Driving straight to the main bar, titled No Name Bar. Original. He parked up his bike.
Without a glance at anyone, he walked directly to the main bar and slammed his hand down on the counter. A blonde with a huge pair of fake tits walked toward him.
“What can I get you, baby?” she asked.
“A whiskey. Make it the good stuff.”
Whispers followed his entrance.
Within seconds, Creed would be well aware of who entered his territory, and that was exactly what he was hoping for.
The blonde put the drink down. “I haven’t seen you around before.”
Smokey noted the ink around her wrist marking her as one of the Twisted Bastards MC sluts. He knew how the club marked their women. All of them had to have a mark. One around the wrist claimed them as club property. The women had to have something across their back, or somewhere more personal. The sluts had barbed wire around their wrists, while the owned women had intricate roses mixed with thorns. This woman had the barbed wire. Any Twisted Bastard could fuck with her.
“You know I’m not from around here, darling.”
“I know who you are, and you’re not welcome here.” The blonde wrapped her fingers around her wrist.
“I wonder if he would come running if I put a bullet in your face.” He pulled out his gun and saw the flash of fear in her eyes.