Page 3 of Steel

“Who needs to see shit so long as they’ll get on their knees to take my pain away?”

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

Soul shrugs.

He’s a compulsive gambler who’s reckless with women, so he’s not easily offended. He’s known for his antics, to the point where some of the guys questioned me putting his name in for VP when my last one stabbed me in the back. But so long as Soul’s wild side doesn’t impact the club, Soul is Soul. He’d lay down his life for his brothers, and he’s sacrificed more for the club than most realize.

When my last VP, Helix, betrayed us, it revealed rot in every corner. We lost half the guys I thought we could trust, and Soul’s father was one of them. Soul chose between two families in that battle, and he spilled the blood that earned him his vice president patch.

So if he wants to enjoy the perks, who am I to judge? We all have our vices.

Havoc stops at Soul’s side and tips his chin up at the clubhouse. “Let’s get fucking wasted.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice,” Soul says, and they make their way up the steps. “You coming, Prez?”

“Yeah.”

I’d like to shower and then sleep for a week, but I’ll settle for a nice buzz first.

Besides, if my men are celebrating, I need to be there to put on a strong front. Especially after tonight’s turf war. They need to see me still standing, unaffected and ready to lead them when this battle inevitably escalates.

The Iron Sinners are getting bolder, and it’s only a matter of time before we go to war. As satisfying as that will be, it’s also expensive. And the club is still recovering from the internal one we just ended.

I walk into the clubhouse and am met with madness. The building is massive, but most people are in the bar on the left, partying. A few are in a small den on the right, shooting darts and fucking around. Anything beyond that is off-limits to anyone who isn’t patched, so it’s empty.

Making my way to the bar, I take a seat and look around.

Prospects push through the room, doing anything and everything my brothers ask of them. I watch them fetch drinks and clean up vomit, wondering how many of them are going to pass the vote in a few weeks when the current selection isn’t as good as the last.

I need to figure out a way to test them beforehand. I need to know who’s really in this for the right reasons and who is here for guns, drugs, and pussy.

I get it; the club offers certain freedoms. But that’s not why we’re really here, and they need to understand that.

“Drink, darlin’?” Reina stops in front of me on the other side of the bar, tucking her bleach-blonde hair behind her ear.

She leans forward, and her arms push her tits up. I’m tempted to lay her out and fuck them. But she’s been getting it in her head that I’m going to make her my old lady, and that shit’s not happening. Which is why I had to cut her off a few months ago and haven’t gone back since.

“Woodfords.”

“Coming right up.” She smiles, spinning around to grab the bottle.

Her ass is hanging out of her shorts, and she sticks it out when she reaches for the top shelf to make sure I notice.

“Something on your mind, Steel?” She turns back around with my drink in her hand. “You look a little stressed.”

“Nothing more than usual.” I drain the glass the second she hands it to me, sliding it back across the bar top for her to pour another.

“Well, if you need help taking your mind off things…” Reina slowly fills the shot glass again before sliding it my way.

“Thanks, but I’m good, sweetheart.”

I steal the drink from her hand and spin around before she starts thinking she’s my girl. This is why I don’t like fucking the same women too often.

The only thing I belong to is the club.

If they want a property patch, they need to find another brother to give it to them.

Scanning the room, I watch a few of the guys playing pool. They’re drawing the attention of a group of townies who are hanging out in a corner. It’s not unusual forbachelorette parties and groups of girls from out of town to come to our clubhouse in search of awhat happens in Vegas, stays in Vegashigh.

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