Page 31 of Protector

“He’s gonna be fine,” Slim immediately said. “Busted his leg open surfin’ and they had to take him to the ER to stitch him back together.”

I flopped back against the booth with a relieved laugh. “Jesus, he really does take after his old man.”

Instead of seizing the moment and giving me shit, Slim dropped a wad of cash on the table and slid out of the booth.

“Where are you goin’? Thought you said he was fine.” When he didn’t respond, I jumped up and followed him outside. “Slim! Goddammit, Slim!”

He stopped in the middle of the highway and faced me. The vein in his neck pulsed rapidly, and his hands clenched into fists. “I was wrong!”

Seeing that we had an audience, I waved everyone else back into the bar. “Get back inside. None of this shit concerns you.”

“All these years I thought I did the right thing by tellin’ you to forget the kid—”

“Keep your goddamn voice down,” I hissed, as I approached him. “You did what you thought was right.”

He shook his head. “No, I did what I thought would keep the club together. You see, I had it in my head that Betsy was a good mother.”

“Well, she ain’t awful; just thinks with her cunt instead of her head.”

His chest heaved up and down. “I think we go with your original plan. Kill ‘em both and say they died.”

I stared at him for a beat before forcing out a laugh. “Thought you wanted me to think about it.”

“No.” He shook his head. “Killin’ them is the best option.”

“And your reason is…”

“David called Betsy to tell her about Mikey hours ago, and you know what she said? Make sure he gets home safely. She’d rather get dicked down than be a mother. Jesus fuck, how many years were you fightin’ with her to stay gone, but she just kept runnin’ right back to him?” He yanked his .40 caliber from the holster. “Let’s go.”

There was nothing I wanted more than to send Betsy to the Reaper for the multitude of shit she’d pulled over the years, but Slim himself had reminded me that Mikey was a man now. If she wanted to fuck away every remaining brain cell she had with the man who’d beaten her senseless on more than one occasion, who was I to judge?

My boy would be leaving soon for college, and if he were smart, he’d never go home. I joined Slim on the stairs. “Guess I should start by thankin’ you—”

“Don’t. Your life was fuckin’ chaos from the beginning, and you deserved better.” Knowing I wasn’t going to let him kill the mother of my son, he returned the gun to his hip. “You all deserved better.”

I clapped him on the shoulder with a smile. They did. I, on the other hand, had been reaping what I’d sown since the night I killed my old man.

Slim didn’t bother knocking. He turned the handle and waltzed into the motel room like he owned the joint. Betsy lay face down on the mattress, her dark brown hair spread out like a fan across the comforter. My heart stuttered in my chest because, from where I was standing, she almost looked like Celia.

Comedian stood at the side of the bed, thrusting into her body like a man possessed. The maniacal look in his dilated eyes further confirmed that he was strung out on something.

Initially, I assumed he’d killed her until she began rocking back, meeting his thrusts with soft moans and pleads for more.

Jesus.

The two of them really did deserve each other.

Comedian finally looked over at us, not once slowing down as he growled, “The fuck do you two want? A turn? You’ll have to wait until I’m done.”

Betsy’s head came up off the bed, and I took sick pleasure in watching the blood leave her face when she saw me. “G-Grey? You’re alive?”

She scrambled across the bed, leaving Comedian alone with his still very hard cock in his hand. No wonder Slim had lost his shit on me a few days ago. Seeing another man stroke his own dick felt almost menacing in a way. At least in the clubhouse, the lights were low, and the music was loud enough to drown out the sounds of fucking.

“For the love of god, put your dick away.” Slim turned to Betsy. “Where’s Mikey?”

Keeping her eyes on me, she planted a hand on her hip. Her tits bounced from the movement, and I tried to decide if they were as big as Celia’s. I couldn’t remember if I’d even used my mouth on them the one time we were together.

“Mike is not a child who needs a babysitter, Slim. He’s perfectly capable of—”

---