Page 71 of Stone

John raised a hand and pointed at Seth. “Me and you, here, ten minutes,” he boomed. “Do what you have to do, but be ready.”

Seth smirked. “I’m warnin’ you, Stone. I’ve been trainin’. It won’t be the easy fight you expect it to be.”

John grinned evilly. “Wanna bet?”

A murmur rippled through the crowd.

“For those of you who’ve forgotten, this is my ol’ lady,” John shouted. “Club bylaws state that she should be protected. Now, I’m not sworn in as a brother yet, but one day, I intend to be, somethin’ every one of you knows. So, by my reckonin’, the instant Seth pointed a gun at her, one of you should’ve taken him down.”

“She mouthed off to Prez,” someone shouted.

“’Cause of my fuck up!” John roared.

Silence fell.

“Now, I want everyone to look at what happens to Seth tonight and know that next time any asshole disrespects my ol’ lady again, it’ll be their asses on the line. Watch and learn!” His glare went to Seth. “You decide, gloves or bare knuckle?”

Looking decidedly nervous, Seth said, “Bare knuckle.”

“Eight minutes,” John scraped out before turning us around and walking us toward the farmhouse.

My heart sunk to my belly, but I kept my mouth shut until we approached the farmhouse and saw Connie emerge from inside.

John’s hand whipped out and grabbed Connie’s nape. He pulled her into his chest, his other arm still holding me close so I could feel the word vibrate through his chest as he rasped, “Ma.”

Connie mushed her face into her son’s breastplate and sighed long and hard, her relief at seeing him palpable. “I heard from the window, Son,” she murmured, pulling back slightly to look up into his face. “We’d better get you ready.”

He shrugged this leather jacket off and handed it to his mom. “I’m ready”

Connie looked down at his feet. “You need your boots. Sneakers won’t do much damage.”

John held his hands up. “I don’t need boots for this.” His hand went to the hem of his tee, and he pulled it from his waistband until it hung loose. “Pass my dagger outta my jacket.”

“John,” I whispered through my heated throat.

He turned toward me and took my face in his hands. “Babe. I can’t lose. I’m fighting for your place and, ultimately, mine. You don’t fuck around with these men.”

“I don’t care,” I said pleadingly. “If it’s getting to where you need knives to prove a point, it’s not worth it.”

John’s hands fell from my face. “If I let it slide, they’ll never respect me. If I’m gonna be Prez one day, they need to know I mean business.” His tone held a note of impatience. “This is biker life, Duchess. We settle things with our fists—more if needed.”

I thrust a hand through my hair, turning to Connie. “What if he gets hurt?”

“We’ll be here to patch him up,” Connie assured me. “John’s right. This is the way the men settle things. Seth slighted John and what belonged to him, so John has the right to settle it. They’ve worked their crap out this way since the day Bandit founded the club, Elise. It won’t change because you and I don’tlike it. They don’t call the cops, and they don’t sue. They sort it with their fists. It’s their law and, in a way, their culture.”

“I won’t lose, Leesy,” John promised me.

“What if he pulls a gun on you?” I demanded.

He dipped his chin and looked me dead in the eye. “Then I’ll deal with it. I’ve trained for this, babe. All my life, Dad showed me what was expected. In the last few months, I’ve learned even more about defending what’s mine. You gotta trust me.”

I went to argue again, but my mouth clamped shut.

The fact was, I did trust John. I trusted him with my heart and my life. I trusted him one day to be a good husband to me and a good father to my kids. I didn’t profess to agree or even understand him fighting Seth, but I had a feeling it ran deeper than just what happened with me. It was more about club politics and, above all else, John’s honor.

Connie pulled me back toward the house. “Come on, we need to get out of the way and let John do what he needs. No interfering, Elise. If anything happens to him, we’ll patch him up, but remember, Bandit’s been training John since he was five. He’ll be okay.”

“I’ve never seen John fight,” I whispered, stretching my neck up to see what was happening as we took our seats on the porch.

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