Page 58 of Static

He thought about that. "Good point."

Another Berserker stepped forward and Cypher pointed at him. "Fuck no. Demo, back the hell off, now."

Demolition was very likely carrying his weight in explosives at any given time. Having him get involved in fights usually ended up with body parts flying through the air.

"Butcher," Lock growled, glaring at our brother. "We don't have the fucking time or luxury for you to blow off steam like this."

"He started it," Butcher muttered.

"I hear the fishing at Harvey Point is excellent this year."

We all stared at Cypher like he lost his mind. He was about Lock's age, early forties, had short, dark hair and intense brown eyes. There was a scar slashing through his left eyebrow, and he was watching Butcher with an expectant vibe surrounding him.

Butcher slowly looked over at Cypher. The expression on his face was unreadable, but the blood lust drained from his eyes and with only a flex of his jaw, he turned and walked away.

The group as a whole had stopped to watch the confrontation and it was as though everyone let out a collective breath.

"Everyone, get to work," Lock barked, sweeping his gaze over the men standing around. Vikings and Berserkers alike jumped into action, working on the same team once more.

I glanced over at Cypher and shook my head. I hadn't known Butcher as long as some of these men. Never met him while we were in the service, or after the CIA formed the group he led, but he was notoriously hard to control once he lost his temper. "What the fuck was that?" I asked.

Both presidents looked over at me. Cypher grinned. "Your club has one Butcher," he told me, shrugging his shoulders. "I have an entire club of them. You figure out how to make them stand down, or you end up cleaning up a lot of fucking blood."

Idaho and I glanced at each other as they walked away from us. We both clearly heard Lock ask, "Would that fucking phrase work for me?"

"Not unless you did a stint with the CIA I don't know about."

"Damn."

"You do a commendable job dealing with him as it is," Cypher said, clapping his hand on Lock's back. "I'm sure his handler appreciates it."

They moved too far away to hear. "Handler?" I asked Idaho.

He shrugged. "When it comes to Butcher? Who the fuck knows what that means. Let's go give these guys a hand before they fuck something up."

Following Idaho across the compound, I shot a look up to the window where I knew Gwen was sleeping. The shit that just happened was most of the guys just blowing off steam. Just another damn day for us. And still, rather than pounding my fist into another man's face, I'd rather crawl back into bed with my woman. I grinned because shit was changing for me, and I really didn't fucking care. As long as Gwen and her kids were there, that was all that mattered.

CHAPTER 22

Gwen

Ibit my lips to keep from laughing as I watched Grace stumble to a stop. Her little neck craned as she followed the line of the man's body up to his face, which towered above her. Little lips made an 'o' of surprise. The man was big. Really big. Though not quite Hellfire-sized. Which was sort of how we gauged how big the men were. It was something we picked up from the guys.

"Hi," she squeaked, blinking at the man.

He looked down at her like he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. "Hey."

She cuddled her stuffed rabbit close to her chest and asked, "What's your name?"

The man scowled and looked over at me for help.

"That's Scythe," a second man said with a grin. He walked over and squatted down to my daughter's level. "Don't worry about him, he's just a grumpy motherfucker."

My gasp was echoed by the women surrounding me and the man looked up and grimaced. "Ah, I mean-"

"What's a grumpy mother...fucker?" she parroted.

I glared at him.

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