Page 49 of Choices

“Please…I’ll pay. You don’t have to kill me,” Jennings begs. Why the hell wait until it gets this far before offering to pay? Just clear your debts, prick. Now it’s too late.

Grease grunts. “Remember when we didn’t dig a hole deep enough for that bent cop in Red Switch Park then got that crazy flooding, and a few days later, reports came in about a body being dug up by wild dogs?”

“Yes.” Dodger shakes his head. “They ate most of him and had to be put down to recover the parts from their stomachs.”

A choked sob rattles Jennings frame. “Don’t kill me. Let me pay.”

“Why didn’t you pay in the first place, you cunt?” Dodger kicks at the pile of dirt that’s been dug up, sending a mound of mud hurtling toward Jennings eliciting an instinctual flinch when a wet clump hits his cheek and slides down to his chest. He’s wearing a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up and blood stains down the front, no doubt from the open wound across the bridge of his nose.

“If you kill me, my men will come after your club.” My body tenses at the threat, even knowing how pathetic it is. Jennings is a wannabe gangster. Watched too many movies and had an ego bigger than Monster’s dick.

An amused bark of laughter rings through the air, smashing into Jennings. Callan moves closer to him. “What fucking men? You have workers, and if you’re not paying us, I doubt you’ve been paying them.” Dropping to his haunches, Callan leans in and pushes a palm to Jennings face, roughly making him sway backward. “You have no one. Are no one. We gave you importance by allowing you to buy from us, and now look where you are.”

Standing, Callan turns toward Tim and crooks his finger, summoning him to come to where he is.

“When you’re a Kings of Sin brother, the club comes before all else. The club is life, it’s family, it’s your brotherhood. We protect that at all costs,” he tells him, and the hairs on the back of my neck rise.

I sense Green’s rigid posture without seeing it. This shit is tense, exciting, and life changing for them both. Once he becomes one of us, it’s forever. I’ve never felt such disdain for a brother about to patch in, but I’m a territorial bastard, and this fucker is trying to put his scent on my property. No one knowing she’s mine is irrelevant. I know. And she fucking knows.

“A brother is willing to bleed for his club. And make others bleed when necessary. Loyalty above all.” Taking a pistol from the back of his jeans, Callan hands it to Tim. “It’s time to show your loyalty.”

Memories of my first kill play out in my head with perfect clarity. A rival club member who came into our territory. I took my time with him, forgoing the gun for a blade instead, earning my road name the same night.

“Wait, wait…” Jennings plea falls on deaf ears.

Bang.

The sharp crack slices through the sky followed by a soft thud as Jennings body falls to the bottom of the grave.

My pulse rings in my ears. For some reason, I didn’t think Tim had it in him. But there wasn’t even hesitation. I don’t have to like him, but he earned my respect tonight.

Slapping him on the back, Callan flashes Green a broad grin then darts his eyes between the rest of us. “You just became a King, brother.”

Music fills every corner of the club. Bodies grind in tune with the beat, moving as one. Pres raises his drink to toast Tim. Fuck, I suppose I can’t call him that anymore. He’s now wearing a leather cut with a brother patch and the road name Wheels. More like a fucking chauffeur.

The proud grin on his face is one I can relate to. Getting that patch feels fucking amazing. It means being part of something bigger than yourself: a brotherhood, a family made of loyalty, friendship, respect. You spill blood to earn that patch. You give your soul to be a fucking King.

I knock back another shot of colorful liquid one of the triplets brought to the table. It still feels fucking weird thinking of them as that after losing one the night the Devils came for us. Scanning the crowd of brothers, ol’ ladies, and club sluts for Kitty, I come up empty. She’s not here. My phone begins bouncing along the table, vibrating. Snatching it up, a groan passes my lips.

Claire: Where are you?

Me: At the club. Why?

Claire: So am I.

Fuck my life.

Getting to my feet, I shove past Green, who has his tongue down the throat of a redhead, and stumble into the hall. I’m about to type out a reply when she comes around the corner, her blonde hair pulled up from her neck, oversized sunglasses perched on her nose even though it’s fucking dark out, and wearing skin-tight leather pants and a white blouse with one too many buttons undone. There’s no denying how fuckable she is—and she knows it—but all I see when I look at her is the burden I’ve been carrying the last four years.

“What the fuck are you doing here…?” The words die on my lips when Rocco appears from behind her legs, his eyes going wide when he sees me.

“Daddy!” he screeches, running at me.

Scooping him up, I kiss his cheek. “Hey, buddy. It’s good to see you.”

Slipping off her sunglasses, Claire blows out an exasperated breath. “Mom has food poisoning.”

“And?”

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