I shrugged Puck off, determined to finish it.
“He’s not worth it, bro,” Puck gritted out. Melanie was still making noise. Between us, her * of a date moaned and cried, whimpering about how he didn’t want to die. Yeah, you better beg for your life, bitch. “You kill him here, you’ll never see your kid again. Whatever shit goes down with you and Mel, you gotta think of Izzy.”
Fuck. I took deep breaths, forcing myself to calm as I stood over the man, staring between him and Melanie.
Had to focus.
The image of my beautiful, fuzzy-haired blonde baby girl flashed through my mind. Izzy. I’d do it for Izzy. I ran a hand through my hair, holding back the fire raging through me.
“Get him out of here,” I finally managed to growl out. Nobody moved as the man rolled to one side, whining like the little cunt he was. Fucking * hadn’t even managed to get in a hit. A distant part of me noted he wore leather with Harley Davidson patches, but no MC colors. Who did he think he was, coming to the Silver Bastards clubhouse? This wasn’t a game. “Get him out of here before I kill him!”
“Fuck,” Horse muttered, stepping forward to grab the douche by the armpits. A path cleared as he started dragging the man toward the door. Melanie shouted at me again, and I turned on her, stalking forward. This was it—I’d had enough of her shit. She wanted to play games? Perfect, because I loved to play, and she knew damned well I liked to play rough.
Melanie was about to get one hell of a reality check.
Picnic stepped in front of her, arms crossed as he stared me down.
“Not happening, son.”
“It’s none of your business,” I snarled. I was right, too—so what if his old lady loved the little bitch? He’d been standing between me and Melanie for way the fuck too long, and this little scene tonight wasn’t club business. Melanie was mine to deal with. There wasn’t a man in the room who had the right to say otherwise, including my president.
“She’s the one who came here,” I reminded him.
“I didn’t even know where we were going!” Melanie yelled from behind him. “It was just a date, you asshole!”
Red filled my vision again. My jaw clenched, and I smelled the blood on my hands. “He’s a fucking biker. You broke the rules, Mel. Get over here.”
“Not happening,” Pic said, his face grim. “I am not dealing with this tonight. Painter, get your ass home. Melanie, you’re with me.”
The air around us cooled. The brothers—Silver Bastards and Reapers both—had been watching all along, but now there was a new, quiet intensity in the air. This had just gone from a confrontation between me and a woman to a confrontation between two full members, and we didn’t usually air that shit outside the chapel. Pic might be the president, but like I said, this wasn’t club business.
He needed to step back. Now.
Suddenly Mel shoved him out of the way, although how she did it I had no idea—she weighed maybe a dime and a quarter soaking wet, the little witch.
“What I do is none of your goddamned business!” she shouted.
I caught Pic’s eye and he shrugged, knowing he was beat. “Fuck it. I’m done with both of you.”
About time. I gave Mel a slow smile, savoring the moment she realized what’d just happened. We might be in another club’s house, but the Silver Bastards were brothers to the Reapers. Pic had spoken because Mel was tight with his old lady, but he’d been overstepping. If she’d kept her mouth fucking shut, she might’ve walked out of here. Now? Not so much.
“I’ll give you a ride home, Mel,” I said with soft menace, enjoying the sudden shock in her face. “We can talk when we get there. Privacy, you know?”
She glanced around, eyes wide. She knew half the men here tonight, but they could be strangers for all the good that’d do her now. Ruger. Gage. Horse. Puck. They all stared back at her, eyes cold. Not one of them would lift a finger to protect her—not from me.