Page 15 of Hendrix

Gopher gave him a nod, then ran toward the garage where we housed our vehicles.

“I wouldn’t bother with the bitch—” Fletch began, then grunted in pain as Ice’s fist smashed into his nose. “Goddamnit,” he roared, his hands flying to his face. “What the fuck?”

Ice leaned toward him, his face twisting with rage. “You fucked my woman!”

Fletcher stared at him. “I did you a fucking favor.”

“Riiight,” Iceman drawled. “So, fucking my woman was doing me a favor? Were you doin’ your Frankie a favor while you were inside Marney, too?”

Fletch’s hands dropped to his side to reveal a bloody face, and he leaned into Iceman until they were nose to nose. “Don’t fuckin’ talk about my wife,” he snarled.

“Why?” Ice demanded through gritted teeth. “Somebody’s gotta remind you you’re married. It’s not like you give Frankie or your boys a passing thought when you’re here fucking the whores and the randoms.”

“Mind your fuckin’ business,” Fletch spat.

“You fucked my woman!” Ice roared. “What part of that isn’t my business?”

I saw it coming before it happened. Iceman pulled his head back, then smashed his skull into his brother’s face. I winced as what was left of Fletch’s nose exploded, and blood flew everywhere.

“Fuck,” I muttered, my feet automatically moving forward to stop what was about to happen, but I felt Dad grab my shoulder and pull me back.

“Let ‘em fight it out,” he advised quietly. “Regardless of his intentions, Fletch needs to learn about brotherhood, even if it’s the hard way, and Ice needs to take a stand. If they don’t deal now, their big-assed grudge will affect the entire club for weeks. At least this way, it’ll be done.”

“You’re right,” I admitted. “But we’re also supposed to be a professional organization.” I gave Dad a tight grin and pushed his hand off before stalking over to the two men who’d already begun to circle each other. “Yo!” I shouted. “If you’re doin’ this, you’re doin’ it like civilized men. Get your asses down the ring.”

A collectivewhoopwent up from the crowd.

Most of these fuckers were rabid for a fight. Initially, I thought it was boredom that drove them stir crazy, but then the security jobs began to flow in and they still caroused at every opportunity. It was then I realized it was something inside them. My boys needed to let off a lotta steam, probably as a result of their military careers. They needed action like they needed air to breathe, and they didn’t give a fuck where that action came from or what it consisted of.

I stretched my arm out and pointed toward the clubhouse. “Move it,” I bellowed, my tone brooking no argument.

A buzz rippled through the throng, and everybody turned and made their way toward the hotel. I tracked Fletcher’s every move as he fell into step with a few of his buddies.

Iceman shot me a smirk. “Is Bones in the house?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to know, bro? I just got back from my own fight.”

His smirk widened to a grin. “Call him. Tell him to get his ass here if he’s not already holed up somewhere with a whore. Gonna fuck that little cunt up.”

My eyes held his. “Sorry about Marney, dude.”

Iceman shrugged. “More pissed at Fletch than her. I’ve come to expect it from the chicks who come around here, but a brother?” He shook his head frustratedly. “Why’s he constantly fuckin’ around on his wife? She’s pretty, not a bitch, and she’s a great mom. Someone needs to tell her what a dog she’s married to.”

I sighed and nodded. “I know. Hate seein’ a brother do this to her, himself, and those boys, but some of these men have demons I can’t vanquish, Ice. Maybe somethin’ inside him needs somethin’ she can’t give him.”

“So he needs to end his marriage,” Ice retorted. “Plenty of dudes in this town, hell, in this club, who would love a shot with a woman like Frankie.” He smirked. “I know of one in particular.”

My head tipped back, and I sighed.

We’d all seen the way Picasso looked at Fletcher’s wife. They were good friends, and Cass spent more time with Fletcher’s sons than he did. Fletch hated it, but Picasso didn’t give a fuck. They held mutual dislike and a touch of jealousy for each other, which was a big part of the reason they butted heads.

“Could you imagine the dramatics that shit show would cause?” I muttered. “The club would split down the middle. It’d be a mess.”

“It would serve Fletch right,” Ice clipped. “While his eyes are wandering to everything in a skirt, someone else’s eyes are aimed at the one woman he should be taking care of but isn’t. Feels like karma to me, and I, for one, wouldnotgive Cass any shit if he went there.”

“You know the rules,” I reminded him. “We don’t touch each other’s women.”

He snorted. “So why the fuck is the asshole still here after touching mine?”

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