Page 39 of Brutal for It
The room explodes, chairs scraping, curses flying, brothers throwing questions. I don’t hear any of it. All I hear is the rush of blood in my ears, and my brother’s voice breaking me in half.
“She’s selling her pussy for drugs, Tommy.”
I lurch to my feet, the chair toppling behind me. My fists slam onto the table hard enough to rattle bottles.
“Why the fuck are you saying this in here?” I roar staring him down. My voice shakes the walls. “This isn’t club business! This is my business! Why didn’t you call me, brother?” My tone is pure ice and venom on the last word.
Crunch doesn’t flinch. He holds my gaze, steady and grim. “No, brother. This is family business. You claimed her, she’s ours. We all fight together for her.”
“Fuck that and fuck you! I can save her. You should have told me, not left her hanging in the wind. You got a man on her then you yank her out and bring her home to me!”
He shakes his head. “I had to do it this way. If you go in alone, you’ll get yourself killed. Or you’ll kill someone or buy the club an enemy that we aren’t ready for.”
“Don’t give me that shit!” My chest heaves. My hands curl into fists so tight my knuckles ache. “She’s mine. You hear me? Mine. You don’t parade her name in front of everyone like this!”
Red’s voice cuts in, sharp. “Sit the fuck down, Tommy Boy!”
I whirl on him, wild. “Don’t you?—”
Tank slams his palm on the table, the sound like a gunshot. “Enough!”
The room goes still.
“Sit,” Tank growls, eyes locked on me. The father taking over in him is more to fear than Tank the biker.
I force air into my lungs, my body trembling with rage and terror, and I sink back into the chair, every muscle coiled. Pretty Boy my other brother, the quieter one, moves in close. He stands behind me and holds his hands in a firm grip on my shoulders as if to keep me in place. I don’t give a fuck. This shit gets any worse, blood or not, I’ll fucking end him to get out of here and to her.
Crunch’s voice drops low, just for me. “You think I wanted to say it like this? You think I don’t know what this does to you? But if you found out alone, you’d already be dead or in prison, Tommy. She’s in deep. Not just drugs—she’s on somebody’s leash. Territory we don’t control. Closest club to that place is an hour away. She found a small town hole and hunkered down.”
My chest is on fire. My vision blurs at the edges. The thought of her—my Jami, my Tiny—out there, lost, hurting, being used and discarded—my stomach twists so hard I think I’ll be sick. I know how much doing this shit before haunts her. How will she come back from this relapse?
“Where,” I grind out, my voice raw. “Where is she?”
Crunch shakes his head. “Not yet. We move as a unit. The guys she’s tied up with—they don’t let go easy. If you go charging in, they’ll bury you. Or worse, they’ll hurt her worse than they already have.”
“I don’t give a fuck,” I snarl, slamming my fist into the table again. “I’ll burn the whole damn world down to get her back!”
“I know.” Crunch’s eyes soften, just a fraction. “That’s why I called sermon. Because if we’re gonna take them out, you’re not doing it alone. You’ll have your family at your back. And we do it so she comes home in one piece.”
The room is silent now, every brother’s eyes on me. Waiting. Measuring.
My hands shake. My jaw aches from clenching. My heart feels like it’s splitting open.
I want to tear the walls down. I want to scream until the roof caves in. I want to demand they all get the fuck out of my way so I can run to her, find her, hold her, fix her.
But somewhere under all the rage, the truth digs in.
If I go alone, I’ll die. And she’ll still be there, without me, maybe worse off than before. I drop my face into my hands and drag them down, forcing myself to breathe.
Crunch’s voice is steady. “She’s in deep, brother. But we can get her out. Together.”
I lift my head, lock eyes with him. “If anything happens to her because we sat here talking instead of moving, I’ll never forgive you.”
Crunch nods once. A silent understanding between us. “Then let’s not waste another second.”
The table erupts again, voices rising—questions, logistics, strategy. I don’t hear most of it. My mind’s already with her, picturing her alone, scared, hurting, doing whatever it takes for another hit.
Every part of me screams to run, to ride, to find her right now. But for once, I force myself to stay seated. To let my brothers plan.
