Page 15 of Raze

“What the hell ya doin’ turnin’ on each other?” I yell in both their faces because this right here, is the last damn thing I need.

“You don’t get to kick me outta my own damn club, you let that bit of power Jimmer gave ya, go to ya head boy.” Greaser points his finger angrily at Ruckus as I shove him back and put more distance between them. I know for a sure fact that Ruckus knows how to fight. I was the one who fuckin’ taught him.

“What’s goin’ on here?” Griller comes strolling out the clubhouse toward us and I start to imagine how this is gonna go down.

“I was just followin’ my prez’s orders. You were both in there encouragin’ her.” Ruckus continues to frame up to Greaser over my shoulder.

“Ruckus.” I turn my head and let my face warn him to back the hell down.

“I’m done with this bull shit. You’re tryin’ to turn us all into somethin’ we ain’t. Cliff may have been bad but at least he’d let a brother have a good time.” Greaser backs out the gate shaking his head at us.

“Wait, Grease, where ya goin?” Griller calls after him.

“To find someplace where men like us belong, it ain’t gonna be here,” he tells his brother who seems torn as he looks between him and the clubhouse.

“You comin’?” he asks.

“Greaser, you ain’t thinkin’ straight come back.” He tries to reason with him.

“I ain’t stayin’ here and bein’ a sheep,” he shouts back over the wall, and when I hear his bike start up me and Ruckus both look to his brother wonderin’ what he’s gonna do next.

“Guess you gotta decide if you're a sheep, Grill,” Ruckus adds fuel to the fire. “You gonna follow ya brother?”

“I ain’t no fuckin’ sheep.” Griller steps right up in his face and forces him to take a step back and when Ruckus slams him in the chest I step in for a second time.

“Now someone tell me what’s goin’ on.”

“I tried, Boss.” Ruckus backs off, shrugging his shoulders, and moving toward the door to the club so he can open it for me.

“What are ya talkin’ ‘bout?” I let go of Griller and shove past Ruckus to get inside and all my nerves tick like they're about to go off when I see what’s in front of me.

“Get the fuck down.” Dev is trying to reason with Peyton, but she’s flat out ignoring him as she dances on the table to the music that’s blaring out of the speakers. Saint’s sitting on a stool in the corner with a bag of ice pressed between his legs, and it seems half my damn club is watching as the girl I told them all to stay away from sways her hips wearing just a bra and a flimsy pair of panties.

I cut the music and immediately all the eyes in the room turn to me, including hers.

“I’m sorry, Boss, we got here as soon as Saint called,” Dev explains, backing away from her and standing beside him.

“What the fuck happened here? Can no one follow a simple damn order?” I yell, slamming my fist into the table next to me. I’m seriously considering taking out my knife and stabbing into Griller’s fuckin’ eye when his focus remains on her. She’s stopped dancing but has broken into what seems like an uncontrollable fit of giggles.

“Get down.” I march toward her, trying hard to keep my focus on her face and not the perfectly proportioned body she has on full display to my members.

“Raze, get on up here and have some fun with me.” She leans forward and rests her hands on my shoulders and she doesn’t take the hint when I stare back at her sternly.

“Whoa, looks like Mr Serious showed up to the party. Can’t we make Sinner come back?” She looks over her shoulder toward Saint. “Yo, you.” She points at him. “Whatever your name is, get your brother back here, he’s fun.” I divert my eyes over to Saint who shakes his head apologetically. I’m yet to have the pleasure of meeting Sinner, but I already know I ain’t gonna like him.

“Get down,” I tell her again, getting closer to losing my patience.

“Or you’ll do what?” She tests me, and I realize that the girl who’s standing in front of me now is very far detached from the girl who was screaming in her sleep last night. I hate how mad she’s gotten me, I’m furious that she couldn't follow a simple rule that I put in place to keep her safe, and because of that I wrap my arms around her thighs and fold her over my shoulder.

“Put me down,” she protests, trying to kick her legs while she thumps me on the back. But I ignore her, squeezing her thighs tighter together to immoblize her legs completely. I allow her fists to attack my back as I carry her out the side door, onto the balcony, and then down the stairs onto the beach.

“Put me down, I can walk,” she screams and when I stop and place her on her feet she tries to steady herself but ends up falling in the sand.

I say nothing, just shake my head and heave her back up on my shoulder.

“This really is over-the-top behavior, you know,” she slurs. “I was just trying to have some fun. Maybe if you loosened up a little you might have some too.” I get to my porch and kick open the door, slumping her deadweight, body onto my couch and heading to the refrigerator to get her a bottle of water.

“Drink this.” I shove it in her hands and fold my arms, watching her stick out her tongue and focus real hard on getting the cap off.

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