Page 42 of What He Wants

We went at each other like rabid animals, both of us realizing that this was going to play out until the end and there could be only one winner. I planned on being that winner, for the club. I owed it to my brothers to end this shit. We crashed together with enough force to do bodily damage, fists flying. I pounded the hell out of his lower torso, he went for my face. Grunts, spit, blood went flying. Shooter had lost weight in prison, his age was showing, but he’d gained strength and a will to survive. Still, I was big and mean and didn’t show any mercy with my punches.

Shooter slammed his fist into my jaw, knocking my head to the side. I came back and clipped him in the eye, my skull ring cutting him open above the brow. He had on rings, too, and every time the fucker hit me, the bulky steel cut into my flesh. I pulled my arm back and punched him hard in the nose, breaking it and sending a spray of blood airborne. Another hit sent him crashing to the floor. I stood panting above him, blood and sweat running down my face. He glared up at me through the eye that wasn’t swollen shut, and then my arms were grabbed by two of his men.

I jerked my arm loose and delivered a hard hit to the face of one of the men, knocking him back. As he danced backward to remain on his feet, I glanced up to see Whistler making his way through the chaos. At the same time, Jumper and Cooper were coming up behind him, held back by the sea of panic. I yanked my other arm loose and hit the second man, just as the other two men in cuts jumped me. They got in a few good hits, giving Shooter time to get to his feet. As I was seized between two Trouble Makers, with a third one jamming a gun into my back, I watched Shooter reach for something in his back pocket.

He wiped the blood off his mouth with the back of his hand. His face looked like it had gone through a meat grinder. “Gonna make this quick. It’s more than you deserve.” The switchblade in his hand looked as long and lethal as I’d known it would be. He lunged.

I took advantage of the two men holding me, and picked up my feet to kick Shooter in the chest. The impact sent him flying back into the crowd, knocking people down with him as he went, while buying me some time. The gun was pressed into my back with bruising force, but a moment later an explosion went off close to my ear and I turned to see the Trouble Maker falling to the floor with a bullet hole to the side of his head. Jumper and Cooper had reached us, and they had made quick work of taking out Shooter’s men.

I looked around for Whistler before turning my attention back to Shooter, who was coming at me with the switchblade. He charged at me recklessly and I jerked to the side, the blade missing me by a couple of inches. The next time, he swung for my gut. Quick reflexes allowed me to grasp his wrist to halt the lethal direction of his intent. In a rapid fast move, I brought his arm up and back, burying the blade deeply into the side of his neck. His eyes opened wide with shock and disbelief, and he staggered backwards, yanking the knife out. Once the plug was removed, blood spurted out like a fucking fountain and I knew that his jugular had been severed.

“It’s over,” I snarled, breathing heavily, watching the blood drain from his face.

He slowly crumbled to his knees, and then to his side, blood pooling out around him.

“We need to get out of here,” Clay said, looking down at Shooter. “Covacks’ men aren’t asking questions first.”

I could see that. “Whistler?” I asked, scanning the crowd. Where the fuck had he gone?

“One of Covacks’ men took care of him.”

My gaze snapped to Jumper. “You sure?” I didn’t want to worry about Whistler coming after me later. He nodded firmly.

“Let’s go.”

We headed outside into the darkness. Any other time we would have taken care of the bodies and cleaned up the mess, confiscated their bikes, but with chaos going on around us, and Covacks’ mercenaries knocking heads together and doing whatever the fuck they had to to gain control of the situation, it was best to just get the fuck out of there. They could deal with shit. By the time everyone was gone there would be more than one body left for them to dispose of. We hadn’t started the trouble, so the fallout wouldn’t land on Phantom Riders.

“We stopping anywhere for the night?

Clay snorted. “You need your beauty sleep, brother?” he joked, giving Cooper a shoulder bump.

“Fuck you,” Cooper responded.

“We need to put distance between here and us,” I said, thinking that it would be a good idea just in case some scared idiot had phoned the cops. Everyone there knew the strict rules Covacks had in place, knew that the fighting was illegal, but when faced with personal fear and danger people tended to react first and think later. “See you brothers back at the clubhouse.”

I headed to the truck, ignoring the aches that were beginning to set in to my body, fucking glad that this shit was over and that it hadn’t happened anywhere near Solon. It could have been. Ending Shooter had been necessary. I didn’t know what it would mean for Trouble Makers, they’d lost their president today, and I didn’t give a fuck. All I had on my mind now was getting home.

Getting back to Daisy. I wanted her. I didn’t deserve her, but I was a selfish fuck and I was going to claim her anyway.

I intended to make that clear the next time I saw her.

Daisy

A persistent pounding at the door downstairs woke me. I rolled over and glanced at the clock, blinking several times to focus my eyes, and I groaned when I saw that it was only two in the morning. As I tried to clear the fog from my brain, the knocking continued. I released a tired breath, wondering if I should just ignore it, call the police, or go downstairs. Ethel Danders had left her hand-painted Italian scarf earlier in the day, but I doubted seriously that she’d made the trip here at two o’clock in the morning to retrieve it.

I pulled back the covers and padded downstairs in my stockinged feet. I left the light off, but as I neared the door I could make out the huge shadow on the other side. Big John. My heart jerked with recognition, and, perhaps, with a little bit of anticipation. I couldn’t help it. My body, and all my senses reacted to him in an instant and palpable way. It was as if I’d touched a livewire and the pulse thrumming through me was spiked with little jolts that stimulated me. The knocking stopped, so I assumed that he’d seen me.

I turned the lock and opened the door. “It’s late,” I rasped tiredly, moving back so that he could enter. I expected him to walk right on past me, but he paused and pulled me into his arms. I caught my breath, suddenly wide awake. “Big John?” I asked softly, wondering if something was wrong.

“It’s early,” he countered.

Well, I supposed it depended on how you looked at it, so I didn’t argue with him. I was wearing a long, flannel nightgown, and his hands spread over my bottom.

“What are you doing here?” I shivered when he buried his face into the side of my neck.

He chuckled deep, rubbing his nose up and down my skin. “You have to ask?”

“I thought you were out of town.”

---