Page 72 of Fury

He and his crew had been in Pennsylvania, too, but we’d all steered clear. Things were cool, I’d thought. I’d been relieved. There hadn’t been no skirmishes, no fights, only the usual long brooding looks and caustic threats between two rival clubs.

“Where’s the kid?” he asked.

“What kid?” spit out Reich.

“The one I made a man. The one I created for you.”

A laugh rolled through the room, one distinct ringing laugh above all the others.

Scrib.

My breathing got shallow, a cold sweat suddenly swamped my body. The smoke and the heat in the room was stifling, and I tried swallowing, but my mouth and throat wouldn’t cooperate. My body wavered, and Drac pressed his side into mine.

“What for?” Kwik stepped forward. “What the fuck is this?”

“Saw you all in Pennsylvania. Saw him. Got me thinking.” Med took a long swig from a bottle of expensive rum.

“Oh yeah?”

“Bet he’s the one who took something of mine.”

“Like what? A popsicle stick?” Reich said on a sneer. “You dumped him all bloodied, chopped and cut with barely his clothes on. What the fuck you talking about?”

Med’s satanic gaze found mine and drilled a sizzling hole through me. “My girl.”

My girl.

Serena’s blue green eyes formed a haze between me and Med. A blue green haze. Desire. Justice. Hate. Passion.

Reich’s head tilted at Med. A challenge. “The fuck you say.”

My brothers from five different chapters crowded around me. Shielding me. Taking my back. Not one looked at me, questioned me. There was no question.

“Got no other explanation for it.” Med’s voice thundered. “I gave him hospitality.”

“Hospitality, huh? Chained like an animal in a prison cell?” said Kwik, his voice raised.

“I let him live, motherfucker.” Med jabbed a finger in the air. “I let him live.”

“Get out,” said Reich. “Get out of our territory and don’t come through here again. I’m willing to overlook this mess you made at my favorite watering hole, chalk it up to a misunderstanding. But it’s the first and last time, you got that?”

“I want my girl back!” howled Med, smashing the bottle against the side of the bar top without even flinching.

Kwik raised his chin at Scrib. “Leave. We’re through with this bullshit, and you’re outnumbered, asshole.” He turned to Med. “Your girlfriend ran off? Cry me a river. Find yourself a new one.”

Med’s eyes stayed on mine all through Kwik’s rush of words. His eyelids lowered and he licked at his full lower lip, a creepy smile breaking out on his face. “I’m still looking for her, and when I find her…”

“Get out!” Reich said.

Med’s hand went to the front of his jacket, patting the zippered pocket at his chest. “Want your fingers back, Kid? Got ‘em right here. Favorite trophy of all time.”

A wave of acid went off in my mouth, lit up my eyes, burned my veins, scorched my heart with its liquid fire. My bros latched onto me.

But I didn’t lunge forward for a fight.

“You keep ‘em,” I replied, my voice loud and coarse. “Don’t want you to ever forget me. Not ever. The name is Finger.”

Med’s eyes narrowed. He hadn’t gotten the response he’d been hoping for. Muttering, he kicked at the remnants of his rum bottle, sending them spinning, smashing, splattering across the floor. A woman screeched. Med stumbled forward on an odd limping saunter to the exit, greasy, sweaty hair in his face. Scrib eyed me as he and the rest of his men followed Med outside.

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