Page 45 of Fury
I tightened the fist that hung at my side. A lick of fire in my stomach, an unstable bomb needing little to set it off.
“It’s club business, Grim. And that starts with me and him. Like he said…join you, how?”
“Pledge your allegiance to us. We patch you over. You become part of the biggest MC in the world.”
Indie shook his head, his face as dark as I felt.
“No thanks. You’ve entirely wasted your time if you only came here to ask us that. Never gonna happen.”
“Thought it was club business, Indie? You can’t answer for the rest of the club. Talk to them about it. They might want something different.”
“They won’t,” Indie added.
“Put it this way,” Grim stepped forward, only a few inches between the Presidents. I took a half step closer too, watching Razor carefully, his own fists tightening at his sides, his eyes flicking between me and the Presidents facing it off in the kitchen. “You don’t patch over. We’ll wipe you out. There’s not enough room for the Bloody Hand and the Northern Kings in the UK. You might want to ask your club what they think of that?”
“We’ll show you what we think of that, Grim. Now you’ve outstayed your welcome. It’s time you were gone.”
“You sure about this, Indie? Your old Pops might have seen us off the last time. But that old crowd are long dead and gone.” Grim looked at me pointedly and I bit the side of my cheek, concentrating on the pain in my flesh from my own teeth. Because if I laid out the Hand’s President, this war we’d been waiting for would start right this very second. “Not sure you’re what you once were? You only have Demon. And once he’s out of the picture, you’ll fall like wet playing cards.”
“Goodbye, Grim. Razor.” Indie didn’t flinch, but stared. If the Bloody Hand couldn’t see his eyes were filled with venom, then they were as blind as they were stupid, coming here with their offer.
“Time you were going, lads,” I added, yanking the kitchen door open and gesturing to the corridor behind.
Grim nodded at Fury and then turned to look at me, a long slow, deliberate look, as if he were trying me on for size, wondering how tough I might be compared to the father and the uncles he once knew. Razor followed behind, but as he passed me, he reached out, his big beefy hand slapping me right in the middle of my back, across the Kings’ back patch. Not one pat, but three. Three touches of the back patch. I could have rammed the door closed on his head, I should have, but Indie shook his head, the movement catching in the corner of my eye. Instead, I made a mental note that Razor would be the first one of the Hand I would take out when the order came.
The President and Vice President of the Bloody Hand crossed into the bar, into the heavy tunes and jostling bodies. I flicked my fingers at Magnet and the Twins who were waiting just on the other side of the doors, Reap getting up off his feet in the booth opposite.
“The Hand are leaving, boys,” I shouted over the music. “Make sure they all leave.”
There was a nod in unison. The four of them knowing exactly what it meant. Magnet followed the officers, and the rest skirted away, the large crowd opening before them and swallowing them up just as quickly.
“We’re gonna need a church meeting,” Indie said from behind me.
“First thing?”
“Aye, first thing in the morning.”
“Brothers won’t like that.”
“Who gives a fuck? Besides, most of them will still be here. They’ll drop like flies in a few hours.”
Indie stepped around me, out into the crowd, shaking hands and clasping arms like the ultimatum from the Hand hadn’t just happened.
Someone patted my shoulder. For a moment I flinched, ready to respond with a fist to the face, all my senses on overdrive and my fight responses purely switched on, and I whirled, expecting to see someone else. But it wasn’t leather that stood in front of me. But those two blue eyes, and that fucking tight black suit that clung to her figure in every beautiful curve and bulge. I needed to fuck something. Her. I needed to fuck her. Because, right now, that was the only thing that would keep me thinking straight.
I didn’t ask what she wanted. I pushed my arm behind her, scooping her into me, pushing my face to hers and attacking her with my lips. She tried to push away from me, but there was no space between us for her arms to get purchase against my chest. Her lips were tight, defensive, but as I nipped on the plush flesh of the bottom one, she sucked in a breath, opening her mouth enough that my tongue could slide in. If she fought me, I couldn’t tell, because now her tongue lapped back, kissing me hard, angrily. Trying to punish me.
I wanted to fuck her here. In front of everyone, against the bar. Spread her legs and bury my head between them. The hard-on grew painfully, pushing against the rough leather bike trousers I wore, the metal zip chafing and biting, sending a flourish of fire exploding in my balls.
“I need to go home,” Heidi said against my mouth.
“Yes, we fucking do. Yours or mine?”
“No, Fury. Home to sleep.”
“You can sleep when we are done.”
“And you need to get that CCTV, Fury. Before Father Leverett wanks off over it or reports us to the police.”