Page 43 of Enforce This

“You done?” I asked once I got him in a headlock against my side.

“You mother fucker.” He raged. “You fucking bastard. She was my ticket. How the fuck are my kids going to bury their mother?”

I kept him bent, and immobile. I could feel the fight slowly leaving him. Ant and a few of the older brothers stood speechless. I wasn’t going to injure him, so they didn’t intervene, they just digested what I had said with wide-eyed expressions.

When he began to heave for air, and the fight wore out, I reached down and jerked on the President patch. It came off as easily as I knew it would, Sasha wasn’t around to sew it on for him.

“What the fuck–” My brother blurted out, taking a step toward us.

I let Mak drop to the ground. He was as dazed as everyone else. We both knew I could beat his ass if I needed to, so it wasn’t much of a choice.

“I will not let you—or anyone else–trade the daughter of our last remaining Disciple to settle a street score!” I roared over him, while making eye contact with each and every last one of them.

My brother was staring at me like he was seeing me for the first time in his life. His eyes were bloodshot, but he’d never been more alert in his life.

Oak was beside him, leaning against his hog. His arms were crossed and though it was dark out, he had sunglasses on.

To his left was Billy ‘The Banshee’Wagoner, our Secretary. Billy’s brother Crazy Bob had been an original Disciple until we lost him to cancer. Banshee was pushing fifty and still had a fondness for the old ways. The order and hierarchy amongst the outlaws were something he recognized and fully embraced. I don’t know if it had to do with his military past, his time with the club, or all the years he did down at Menard prison.

“Hear, hear, brothers.” He nodded, his long, gray goatee scraping his leather jacket.

“We love you, brother.” Our Chaplain, Montana, cleared his throat and stared at Mak. “I do, anyhow… but I've been in this club too long to watch your issues take us to the ground. You need to get it together, brother, and until you do… You ain’t fit to lead us… Easy is right. If we go around giving them women, we’re just wading into the waters of their flesh trade. Why the fuck would we do that…? And if we do allow ourselves to become the type of wasted air that sells their own women, what the fuck then? What is sacred if our Old Ladies, daughters, and sisters ain’t? This ain’t what Mark and the guys wanted for this club.”

“That ain’t it at all, brother,” Banshee agreed.

Montana shoved his hand through his long, blond hair and stared at me with eyes that were slightly wrinkled around the edges. He’d served in Vietnam with Mark.

“You really married Mark’s girl?” He grunted.

“He told me to do what I had to. He asked me to keep his little girl safe,” I admitted.

He grunted and nodded, glancing toward Banshee. “Well, that's enough for me, brother.”

Banshee made a nasally sound of agreement and I looked between them.

“If a founding Disciple of this club trusted you with what was precious to him, then you’re the one that ought to wear that patch,” Montana announced.

“What? No.” I shook my head.

Mak slowly stood to his full height, which was still considerably shorter than mine, and glared at me. He staggered back a few feet, reached into his back pocket, pulled out his phone and hurled it like a softball it at my stomach. I shot both hands in front of me, and it bounced off the already bruised side of my hand.

“Fucking Bastard,” I spat, taking a step toward him while clutching the injured area.

“You heard him. It’s your fucking problem now. You call Demitri and tell him there will be no bride for him. No reason for him to show up at midnight.” Mak looked around like they’d all betrayed him. “Now, fuck off. I have to tuck my kids in for what is probably the last time.”

“Mak,” I called after him.

He was already moving, so I jogged after him and reached for his shoulder, “Mak, hold up. We’re going to make a plan. The kids are going to be safe.”

My fingers brushed his kutte so softly he probably didn’t even feel it. The moment those words left my lips he whirled around, and sucker punched me in the mouth.

“Is that so? Hm? You going to look me in my eyes like you do my sister and make me promises you can’t keep, Mother Fucker?”

I had every intention of eating the first blow. I didn’t blame him. I’d react the same way if I had a child. What he said about Trista, however, left me so stunned I didn’t see the second blow coming.

The son of a bitch clipped me right above my eye. The initial pain gave way to a burn that immediately told me he’d split the skin.

“Goddamn it, Mak!” I roared, as Anthony snagged Makaveli and Oak wrapped his big arms around me and hefted me up and out of the way like I was some kind of damsel in distress.

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