Page 47 of Savage Protector

Chapter Twenty-one

Houston

Houston grabbed the tequila bottle from the table next to him and unscrewed the cap. Fuck a glass. Glasses were for pussies. He upended the bottle and poured the liquor down his throat, waiting for the burn of alcohol to wipe away his incessant thoughts.

More than three weeks had passed since his time with Izzy and he still couldn’t stop thinking about her. If he sat still for more than a few minutes, the scent of her sweet skin would invade his senses, or he’d see her standing on the pier in that ridiculous wedding gown.

Or when his head was particularly fucked up, he’d see her being shoved into the white van by a couple of ruthless thugs, stark fear etched across her face.

He threw the bottle across the room and watched it shatter against a wall. Nothing worked. He grabbed his cigarettes from his vest pocket and fished one out.

“You aren’t going to be worth shit to the club if you keep this up.”

Houston slowly turned to face Axel, sick of his supposed childhood best friend and now current rider of his ass. “Maybe you need to come down off your high horse and tell me what’s really eating your ass.”

“Fuck you. I'm not the one sitting around every night drowning in liquor instead of making himself useful. What the hell happened to you that you let pussy fuck up your head like this? Is this what the Marines did for you?”

Houston dropped his cigarettes and jumped off the couch. He grabbed Axel by the collar of his leather cut and shoved him against the wall with his forearm across his throat, cutting off his air. “I’m sick of you trying to break my balls over this shit every single day. You don’t like what you got with me, that’s too fucking bad. The deal is made.”

“You should have stayed away,” Axel seethed, his face turning red.

“I wish I could have,” he snapped.

“Enough.” JD’s voice exploded through the room. “Houston, let him go and get your ass in my office. Now.”

He growled against the order, pressing harder against Axel’s windpipe.

“I don't know what your fucking deal is, but this shit ends now. Get in my face again and you’ll learn first hand why my skills are so important to this club.”

“Fuck you.” Axel spat in his face.

“Goddammit, Houston, I said now.” JD got into his face and shoved him with his fist.

He took a deep breath and released his former friend. It was obvious whatever they were to each other before was now over. He’d broken ties a decade ago and after everything that had happened, they simply couldn’t go back. Apparently their friendship did not withstand the test of time.

He grabbed another bottle of tequila from behind the bar and headed toward JD's office. Once there he settled into the cracked leather chair across from his club president’s desk and took a final swig of the bitter alcohol.

JD strode through the door and dropped into the chair. “You and Axel need to work your shit out. I’m getting tired of breaking you up like a couple of twelve-year-olds.”

“I don’t know what his problem is. He’s been on my ass since I got back. I didn’t ask for this shit. You wanted me. Remember?”

JD sat forward, placing his fists on the table in front of him. “I wanted a warrior who could get the job done, not a shell of one drowning in tequila.”

“That’s rich coming from you or anyone else around here. This place is a nonstop rush of booze and pussy. You got a problem with that you might want to start first with cleaning your own house instead of trying to break my balls.”

“Grow the fuck up. And for God’s sake act like the Marine I know you are.”

Houston reared back. That was a low blow even for him. “Ain’t a Marine anymore. Kicked me out, remember?”

JD leaned back in his chair. “Drunk or not, your shitty little pity party is gonna have to wait. Got a line on your girl. A solid one this time.”

His head shot up. “What?”

“Finally found the right intel on her location, but we gotta move tonight. Word is things are coming to a head between Mazzeo and the former fiancé.”

“Then what the fuck are we doing wasting time here? Let’s go.”

JD slammed his fist, rising from his chair to lean across the desk. “Starting to wonder if I can trust you after all, son. I hate to say it, but Axel might be right about you.”

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