Page 12 of Hendrix

“I made up the envelopes. The cash was all there.” Cross whipped his head back to Larry, and a muscle ticked in his jaw. “You’re a goddamned liability. How fucking stupid can you be?”

I nodded at Picasso to release Cross. The instant he was free, he stalked toward his uncle. I saw the punch coming before Larry did. Cross caught him off guard and landed a jab directly on his uncle’s nose, which exploded for a second time that night.

Larry let out a high-pitchedyowl, his hands flying to his face to contain the blood spewing everywhere.

“You’re done!” Cross spat. “You’re out, and I don’t mean this place; I mean out of town. I’m telling Aunt Karen about your bullshit, and I swear to God, if you turn up here thinking you’re gonna take it all back, you’re a bigger fucking idiot than you look.” He turned to me. “I apologize, Hendrix. I’ll make the cash up, and you’ll take an extra five K from my uncle to make up for hiserror.”

I shook my head. “It’s gone too far, Cross. I can’t allow this shit to stand. We took it to the table and voted to take this place ourselves if that prick tried to fuck me over again.”

Cross’s jaw clenched. “I’m not my uncle. I’ll run things differently. You can be involved if you want; I’ll even give you a slice of the action, but Arena feeds my entire family. Giving it up isn’t an option for me. There’s gotta be something I can do.” His voice dropped. “Come on, Hendrix, work with me here.”

My eyes slashed to Gambit, and I cocked an eyebrow at him, waiting for the word.

After a brief pause, he rolled his eyes and nodded.

I must have gotten more mellow in my old age because I felt bad for the kid. It wasn’t his fault his uncle was a stupid twat. Cross seemed decent; maybe he deserved a chance.

“My clubhouse, tomorrow at midday,” I told him. “Come prepared ‘cause I’m warning you, no more chances and no more fuck ups. You gotta turn this place around. I get what it is, and I get there are limits to what you can do, but if you don’t up the standards, we’ll take it over. You’re working on the wrong side of the law here, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be a professional, decent setup. The place is a dump with a shitty reputation. That changes from today. You get me?”

He nodded earnestly. “Agreed. I’ll be there at midday.”

I dipped my chin in acknowledgment before heading for the door, glancing at my dad as he fell into step beside me.

“You did the right thing,” he muttered under his breath.

“Maybe,” I murmured. “Problem is, we voted on it, and I just did a big ol’ turnaround.”

“The boys will get it,” he assured me. “It’s all fun and games when we’re discussing running an illegal fight club in Church, but they’d whine like bitches the second they’re ordered to stay sober on a Saturday night and come down and work security. At least this way, we don’t get the ball ache of dealing with it or its damned drama.”

We pushed the doors open and moved to our bikes, which were parked side by side. “Youknow that, andIknow that. Alltheysee is easy women and watching two men knock the shit out of each other in front of a baying crowd.” I grabbed my helmet from my handlebars and shoved it over my head before opening the visor to talk to Dad. “To them, it’s the perfect night out.”

“So we tell ‘em some home truths.” Dad watched as I threw my leg over the saddle before doing the same. “They’ll soon see the light. And if they don’t, well, you are Prez. The buck stops with you.”

I barked a laugh, started up my bike, and waited for Pop’s hog to roar to life and pull up beside me.

He was right. I was Prez. I believed in democracy to a point, but when the chips were down and split decisions had to be made, I had to make them.

I revved my bike and pulled away onto the main road with Dad beside me, heading toward the clubhouse, all the while thinking about how much responsibility was involved in what I did and how sometimes the pressure was crippling.

I’d sacrificed a lot for my club, including the woman I loved, and I always thought what I gave up was worth it because becoming a Speed Demons’ Prez was a dream come true for me.

It was a position I’d worked and fought for. It hadn’t been easy, but I got here, and now I was doing something I loved, surrounded by men I trusted. I may have lost people I loved along the way, but everything else had slotted into place perfectly. I had everything a man could wish for. The respect of my men, booze, women on tap, laughter, and camaraderie.

Finally, life was sweet.

So why couldn’t my soul settle?

And more to the point, why did I feel so empty?

CHAPTER THREE

HENDRIX

It was past midnight by the time Dad and I pulled up outside the clubhouse slash hotel. Along the journey, Picasso caught up and rode in with us as we headed back.

Cass was one of my closest boys. He was a tattoo artist and a damned fine one at that, hence his road name. The man could turn the cheesiest and most cliché tattoo ideas into works of art. He adapted to all styles, too. His portraits were like looking at actual snapshots, and his watercolors were so bright and realistic that they almost came to life on the skin.

He was also a fucking Ninja. I’d never seen anybody fight like Cass. He was quiet and brooding while also being easygoing and popular with men and women. However, as some men learned to their detriment, if you got on his wrong side, he’d rip your goddamned throat out, and I didn’t mean metaphorically.

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