Page 2 of Diablo

“So,” he said. “We’re voting on your membership this Saturday. Nervous?”

I found a damp rag and scrubbed at the jelly. Somehow, it was already beginning to dry into a crust.

“Not really,” I replied.

Which was a lie. The last two votes had been a solid no. But Brewer vouched for me, granting me a second chance and allowed me to stay on as a Prospect in an effort to prove myself. I knew second chances didn’t last forever though. Eventually, I would have to earn my patch or move on.

The jelly was nearly gone but there was still a faint purple outline stained into the denim. I gave up, admitting defeat. There was probably no way to get rid of it.

Mack stepped behind the counter on the other side of me.

“Are you boys talking about the upcoming vote?”

Axel jabbed a thumb in my direction.

“He’s nervous.”

I swatted his hand aside.

“I am not. Shut up, asshole.”

Mack punched me in the shoulder playfully.

“Aw, no need to be nervous, Prospect. Just don’t fuck it up this time like you always do.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Thanks for the support.”

Mack selected a cupcake from a nearby Tupperware and swiped a finger through the icing.

“If it helps to take the edge off your nerves,” he said. “My vote will be no.”

My stomach twisted and I glanced sharply at him.

“What? Why?”

Mack smirked, licking the icing from his fingertip.

“It’s too much fun bossing you around, you little shite.”

I choked on a laugh of relief and aimed a kick at him. He snickered, skirting out of reach. Before I could chase him down, the door opened, admitting a stream of visitors I didn’t recognize—eleven in all, ten men and one woman.

My gaze lingered on her. Tight jeans hugging thick thighs and curvy hips. A black tank top stretched snugly across cleavage that made me want to bury my face in it. Long, dark hair spilling in loose waves down her back.

I shouldn’t allow myself to get distracted by a pretty face. I knew better than that. Although it still took me a few seconds before I noticed that the newcomers were wearing kuts. It wasn’t unusual for clubs to pass through Merry Field on their way to somewhere else. We didn’t mind sharing a few drinks and sending them on their way as long as they were mindful of our territory and didn’t stir up any trouble.

The problem was the patches on their kuts that read, Desert Howlers.

“No,” I snapped. “Fuck no. Get the hell out of here.”

The woman spoke first, putting up a hand in surrender.

“Take it easy. We came to talk. That’s all.”

I started toward her but Mack caught my arm in a bruising grip, digging his heels in to hold me back.

“One of you shitheads stabbed me a year ago,” I spat, grabbing my shirt and lifting the hem to show the three dark pink scars that marked my torso. “Put me in the hospital for weeks. And then you tried to steal our territory. Or did that slip your mind?”

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