Page 16 of July 27

Instead, he lost everything because he allowed the vulnerability to creep in.

But he'd do it again, especially knowing Jagger was now responsible for Katrina. Katrina had a good man. A man who followed the bylaws. A man who would take care of her.

Ruger wasn't looking for friends. He wasn't looking to save anyone else. He only wanted a solid future with the security of keeping his freedom.

He'd stopped depending on others a long time ago. Everyone disappointed him—he disappointed everyone.

Wire and Cora walked out of the clubhouse, arm in arm, and headed toward Cora's car.

Lifting his drink, he drained the last half of the beer and tossed the bottle into the garbage can. He put his cigarette in his mouth and inhaled deeply, exhaling the smoke. It was hard to believe he had a baby sister a couple of years younger than Katrina.

For years, he held on to the bitterness that his parents refused to support him when he told them about getting his girlfriend pregnant. They rather he pay to have Sheila abort the baby. But that baby was Katrina. His blood. Even before Katrina was born, he understood family loyalty better than his parents.

He would never walk away from his child like his parents let him walk away without a word. No matter how old Katrina was, it was his job to make sure she was safe, provided for, and loved.

But dealing with his parents happened a lifetime ago. Both his parents were now dead, and he couldn't say he missed them. They were dead to him the moment he left home with Sheila beside him.

Six short months afterward, Sheila proved to him that she wasn't cut out to be a mom. She hightailed it to the highway the moment she could walk after giving birth to Katrina, only making him more determined to never put that kind of hurt on his daughter.

Cora smiled at Wire from the driver's seat. Ruger rubbed the back of his neck. His sister wanted to include him in her life and wouldn't take the hint that he wasn't interested in expanding his family.

Wire could take care of Cora. Even if she hadn't had a Havlin member as her old man, she was set for life with their parents' estate money. She had everything at her fingertips. Money, security, respect. She didn't need him.

But, he couldn't help looking at his sister when she wasn't aware of him around. She sure was pretty like their mom. Almost a damn splitting image of how he remembered her.

"He thinks his shit don't stink."

"Dare you to tell him that to his face. He's a big motherfucker. I heard he got life, but the prison let him out early because he caused more damage inside than they could deal with."

He looked over at the group of Havlin members, talking smack.

"My money was on Prez. I still say he could've taken Ruger out if he fought back," said Steward.

Ruger stubbed out his cigarette. There was no skin off his back if the others wanted to speculate about him. The more rumors floated around, the more people stayed away from him.

"He probably wore the bitch out that he had staying with him." Steward laughed loudly. "I wouldn't have minded if she stuck around and gave us all a turn. Once the bruises and swelling went down, she was a fucking hottie."

Talking about Rachel was where they crossed the line. They could talk shit about him until they lost their voices, but no one was allowed to talk about Rachel.

Ruger made it across the parking lot before Steward could open his mouth again. He pulled back his arm and punched the younger Havlin member straight in the nose. Tate and Freddy stepped in to protect their friend.

If alcohol couldn't relax him enough to sleep, he'd wear some of the adrenaline off with a fight. Throwing Freddy to the ground, he delivered a swift kick to his midsection. Seeing Tate coming at him from the side, Ruger popped his elbow up and clipped him in the jaw, sending him spinning.

The others getting involved gave Steward time to get to his feet. Ruger caught him by the front of his throat and lifted him six inches off the ground. Digging his fingers into his neck, he brought Steward eye level with him.

"If I ever hear you speak about Rachel again, I'll kill you."

Garble came from Steward's throat. Ruger let go, dropping him like a rock to the ground. He looked at the others, making sure they understood he was talking to each of them.

Then, he strolled over to his Harley, sat down, and lit another cigarette. He felt better than when he rolled up with Rachel on his back after suffering through beatings every day. His hands were strong. His ribs no longer hurt.

Bane walked over to him. Ruger glanced at the vice president of Havlin. One wrong word from Bane, and he would have no problem throwing a few more hits.

"You'll have a new schedule starting Monday." Bane widened his stance. "Jagger put you on Crew Two, so enjoy your weekend."

He knuckle-bumped Bane before the V.P. walked back into the clubhouse. Ruger flexed his fingers. The move out of the parts shop happened faster than he'd expected. He was anxious to get out and ride and work security.

Finishing the cigarette, he threw his leg off the Harley when the stray cat that hung around the clubhouse walked up and rubbed against his boot. He bent over and scooped up the cat, who hissed and squirmed. He'd heard that Skye, Maverick's daughter, had earned the money to take the cat in after her last litter and have her fixed. He put the cat on the ground when a soft meow came behind him.