Page 77 of May 11

Maverick bumped into the back of Wire. "Move off if you're not walking."

"Hey." He stepped to the side. "How long has he been hanging around?"

"Who?"

"Ruger." Wire squinted. "He rides the 750 beside him."

"Don't know. Don't know him." Maverick coughed. "But he's wearing Havlin colors."

Colors or not, he'd overstayed his welcome. Wire strode across the asphalt. By the time he was ten feet away, he'd lost his temper and flew at Ruger, tackling his heavy ass to the ground.

He punched the air, connecting with Ruger's face before Cora's brother pummeled Wire's side. But his temper fueled him.

He pushed to his feet and got a kick into Ruger's kidney before Cora's brother hooked Wire's ankle and brought him down again.

Landing on his shoulder, he couldn't get his arm up fast enough. Ruger's fist smashed into his face. He grunted, rolling over Ruger's body to get another shot in.

"Pull him off," shouted Jagger.

Wire found himself lifted and thrown to his feet. Maverick's hand landed on his chest. He swung out, knocking his MC brother's arm away.

Stepping forward, he lunged to attack Ruger when Jagger grabbed the back of Wire's vest and hauled him back several steps.

"Stand down." Jagger kept his hand up and looked over at Ruger. "Either one of you go at it again, and I'll shoot you both."

Jagger walked away, expecting them both to follow orders. Maverick slapped Wire's chest and followed their president.

Left alone with Ruger, he had difficulty letting go of his anger. Ruger had fucked with Cora's heart, not giving her the time to explain why she was trying to find him.

Ruger pushed to his feet, breathing heavily. Wire clenched his fists. The burst of physical outlet wasn't enough.

"You're lucky I don't kill you." He raised his brow, trying to see out of his right eye.

The fucker had hit him solid. His eye was already swelling.

But going by the blood running from Ruger's mouth, Wire had got in his shot before Jagger called him off.

They were too fucking old to fight. He should've shot the fucker.

"If you don't want to get to know your sister, hit the road. She doesn't need to see you hanging around and ignoring her." Wire spit on the ground, tasting blood.

Ruger swiped his forearm across his mouth. "Where is she?"

There was no way in hell he would tell Ruger that Cora worked down the street at the coffee shop.

"You're not going to see her looking like that." Wire pointed his finger at Ruger. "All she wanted to do was find her older brother. And you couldn't even acknowledge that she was your sister. Jesus Christ, man, she's twenty-one fucking years old. She doesn't understand our lifestyle yet. I won't give you another chance to break her heart."

Ruger turned around and got on his motorcycle. Wire, unable to see out of his right eye, watched Cora's brother race off without saying a word in his defense. He couldn't understand how someone could look at Cora and not want to make things right for her.

She had never harmed a living soul. She was pure and good in the world.

As someone on friendly terms with the devil, Wire knew better than to walk away from someone like Cora. She had fucking angel wings.

He walked back into the clubhouse and straight to the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, he gritted his teeth. The asshole got a good punch in.

His eye was only a slit, swollen tightly closed. He prodded the bridge of his nose. At least he hadn't busted his nose again.

Washing his face, he used the towel to wipe off the blood on his beard. Then, he went into the clubhouse and grabbed two bottles of beer.

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