And that was saying fucking something.
I knew he’d been spending the last couple days at Rachel’s, despite the fact that he had a bed here, and figured that was because of stunts like this.
I watched as he tried his best to pick up as much of the crap on the floor with a wad of toilet paper he kept shoving into a sandwich bag from the kitchen, and annoyed, I strode into the bar.
The place had long since stopped being pink. Bikers trawling ten tons of shit in with them had the tendency to make a place look grody real fast, and I’d never been more grateful for grody.
Note to self: the Posse’s idea of revenge was far worse than the fun of fucking with them.
Still, aside from the lingering remnants of pink, everything was fucking normal in here.
Could no one else smell the crap?
Pissed, I hollered, “Who the fuck put dog shit on our brand new stoop?”
The bar was half full of snickering dipshits who froze at my yell.
Gunner blinked at me and cautiously asked, “You mind, Nyx?”
“Bet your fucking ass I mind. That stench ain’t gonna be leaving the hall any time soon.” My eyes narrowed on him. “You the one behind it?”
He raised his hands. “Not me, VP, nope.”
I grunted. “Whoever the fuck did it, don’t do it again. In fact, stop with the fucking hazing, yeah? You’re not fifteen and we got bigger things on our plate than you making Harlow’s life hell. I figure it’s plenty hell enough.”
The cluster of brothers to my left hunched their shoulders in agreement. To the right, Kendra was sucking off Lever and he shot me a defiant glare as he sniped, “Since when did the council dictate our right to prove if a Prospect’s worthy of being a brother?”
“You think having dog shit explode over our front door does that?” I growled back, my eyes flashing with temper.
All around me, silence fluttered, and Kendra even stopped sucking on his cock. When he burrowed his hand in her hair, forcing her back down, I sneered at him. “You want me to slice off your dick, Lever? You’re going about it the right way.”
He swallowed hard, but being an asswipe gave him enough confidence to mutter, “We’ve all been through this kind of shit. It’s a rite of passage. Why shouldn’t Harlow?”
“Because Harlow ain’t gonna be like you, motherfuckers.”
“What’s he gonna be then?” Lever snarled.
“My protege.” I tipped up my chin. “If you’ve got a fucking problem with that, then you can come and talk to me in private, where I’ll make sure that all my knives are sharpened because you visiting me about this bullshit is a declaration of fucking war.
“This is not a democracy. This is an MC. We got shit to do, and you playing high school pranks on Prospects gets us nowhere. Make him do your fucking jobs for the day. Get him to balance your goddamn checkbook or have him haul all the firewood inside.
“If I hear of any dipshit moves you pull, I’ll make you pay, do you hear me?”
I received a lot of bobbing shoulders for my pains, and only Gunner had the balls to ask, “Nyx? We still on for the run this week?”
I eyed him. “Link send a message to any of you saying that it’s canceled?”
Gunner cleared his throat. “No.”
“Well, then, it’s fucking on.”
Grousing under my breath, I turned on my heel, well aware they were glowering at me, but I dismissed them as my phone chimed.
Harlow, still on his knees, muttered, “You didn’t have to do that. It’s just a rite of passage.”
“It’s a waste of fucking time, and this place is brand new. I don’t want it covered in dog shit because they’re hazing you.”
He peered up at me with those eyes of his that reminded me of the ones I looked at in the mirror every goddamn day. “You mean that about my becoming your protege?”
“That’s why you’re here, ain’t it?” I retorted, tone bland.
“Yeah, but I didn’t think—”
“You know what thinking did, don’t you?” I countered. “Don’t think. Just do. I’ll let you know when I trust you enough to take you out with me on the road.”
If the eyes were the windows to the soul, I was looking at broken glass, but my words had hope gleaming in them. It was plenty clear that he didn’t want to be here. That this wasn’t his world. But I knew about the sacrifices a man made for those he’d failed. Who better to understand the torture that was his life?
Every fucking day was a torment.
Every fucking day was a reminder of all the shit he’d failed to do…
No, Harlow didn’t need the extra pressure. Just breathing was misery enough.
“Where did they even get dog shit from anyway?” I grumbled, staring down at the brown smears that had me hoping Giulia wouldn’t come to the clubhouse today.
The last thing I fucking needed was the Posse moaning in my ear about hygiene.
We were a goddamn 1%-er MC. Hygiene didn’t matter. DNA, sure. Not fucking germs.
“There’s a bunch outside.”
My brow furrowed at Harlow’s answer. “Where?”
“Outside.”
Of course. Fucking Quin.
My brother was staying in one of the bunkhouses, and because he had some weird Dr. Doolittle mojo where every animal in the fucking country wanted to be near him, that meant we were getting daily visitors—of the furball variety.
Dismissing him, I left him to the carnage that came with a burning bag of dog shit, and I headed into the yard, crossing over to the bunkhouse.
It wasn’t like Quin could help that he was the Pied Piper of everything in the animal kingdom, but he could damn well clear up the shit if he was going to turn us into a sanctuary.
On my way, my cell buzzed again. Seeing the Unknown on the screen had my mouth tightening, but before the desire to hurl my cell at the ground hit me, I heard a yip, followed by a snarl, followed by a booming goddamn bark that had me twisting around to see what the fuck was going on.
The yip and the snarl came from a pocket chihuahua. It was clearly a she because the little bitch wore what had once been a bright pink collar that came complete with diamantes—the stones had long since disappeared, but the settings were still there.
She snarled at me before she darted at my boots and clung to the cuff of my jeans, right above the ankle.
“What the fuck did I do to deserve this?” I muttered to myself as I lifted my leg—the pain in the ass hung on tighter, dangling in midair for a second, refusing to let go.
Another booming bark sounded, and as tiny as this ankle-biter was, the other one was about the size of a fucking dire wolf.
Newfoundlander.
All black fur and drool.
“Bet you’re the one behind that massive pile of shit on the stoop,” I groused as it ambled toward me.
I was Quin’s brother—that meant I was used to animals, even if I didn’t want to be. The big bear of a dog padded toward me, barking and growling, and I figured it was trying to protect the chihuahua.
Connecting my gaze with it, I lowered my leg. The fucker didn’t let go but the Newfoundlander brushed close to me, enough to make me fear for my junk, before it picked up the fun-size dog in its massive jaw.
The chihuahua bared her fangs at me, hissing and spitting, bug eyes glowering at me with a disdain for all humans that life had taught it.