Page 25 of Mace

As I shove through the door, my anger at Julie has morphed into something far more dangerous because of Blade.

They both glance up as I approach them, Riot eyeingme as if he can see the weight bearing down on my shoulders. I didn’t tell him I was visiting his mum today, and I don’t know why. He would have come with me if I’d mentioned it.

He also would have eaten his sister alive.

“You okay?” he asks as I sink onto the low wall where they’re perched.

“Yeah,” I lie, “fucking perfect. You see that shit in there?” I hook my thumb over my shoulder.

“Crank and Chlo?” Riot guesses. “It’s fucked-up, brother.”

It’s more than fucked-up, and we all know it.

“Ain’t a chance she’s his kid,” Nicky says, playing devil’s advocate. “And Chlo’s twenty. Ain’t like she doesn’t know what she’s doing.”

“Ain’t about him potentially being her daddy,” I mutter. “It’s the fact she’s someone’s kid in that building, and until we know who, I don’t think that dirty prick should be stickin’ his dirty prick anywhere near her. She’s club, not free cunt.”

“Yeah,” Nicky agrees. “There’s a lot of shit he shouldn’t be doing, and Chlo ain’t the worst of it.”

He’s right about that. Our chapter is more divided than ever since Crank became President. I love my club, more than I can express, but him leading us is a joke. He’s a coward who cares more about drinking and shagging barely grown girls than he does about the patch, which was how the Pioneers got so fucking powerful in Birmingham, and the main reason we lost Hawk to Manchester. Every death, every spot of blood spilled, is on that fuck.

And at some point, he’s going to pay for every single crime he’s committed while wearing club colours.

“His time’s coming,” Riot says in a low voice, as if he reads my mind.

“He’s gonna have some leeway for a while, considerin’ the fact he’s cleared out seven Pioneer businesses and added them to the club’s books.” Nicky pulls out a cigarette, offering the packet to us.

Riot takes one, but I don’t. I’ve got a shit-tonne of vices, but I can’t stand the smell of it. It takes me back to my mother. She always stank of cigarettes and booze.

“Ain’t right,” I complain.

“No, it ain’t,” Nicky agrees, “but we have to bide our time. Ravage wants him gone and he’ll figure out a way to make that happen.”

“We also need to watch Blade,” I remark.

“That ain’t news,” Riot says. “The guy is a fucking creepy bastard.”

He is, and not even because of the smile carved into his face. I’m fucked-up, I’ll be the first to admit it, but that guy… his demons are chasing other demons. He’s buckets of crazy, which is why Crank keeps him close.

“With the girls at Temptation,” I amend, “he scared two of the bartenders half to death last night.”

That makes Nicky sit up straight, his cigarette dangling between his fingers. My best friend feels a certain way about violence towards women. “What did he do?”

I think back to the pretty little bartender with the ridiculous wig and the fear on her face. “Nothing, but only because I was there. He’s a fuckin’ shithead, and I don’t trust him. He’s in Crank’s pocket, and that tells me exactly what kind of man he is.”

Nicky relaxes, letting his shoulders drop a little. “Halfthe men inside the clubhouse are in Crank’s pocket, Mace. He is our President after all.”

There is bitterness in those last words, and I get it—Crank ain’t worthy of the patch.

“Not half,” Riot says.

“Meaning what?” Nicky asks.

He leans forward, stubbing his cigarette out on the underside of his boot. “There’s a lot of brothers who ain’t too happy about how things are being run.” He straightens his back, stretching the muscles out. “I get the feeling most of them would be quite happy to see the back of Crank and Grub.”

That surprises me. “Like who?”

“Diesel, for one, and I reckon King as well. Ain’t sure about Dash’s loyalties yet, since he’s pretty close with Blade and he might decide to honour their friendship rather than the patch.”

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