Page 10 of Pope’s Purgatory

“Pope, I’m not stupid,” she cries. “You’re pulling away, and I don’t understand why.”

My phone rings, keeping me from having to give her an answer I didn’t have. Nothing I say is going to make shit better for either of us.

“Yeah,” I answer the call.

“Got another threat delivered to the club,” Malice says.

“On my way.”

I shove my phone into my pocket and pull my kutte on.

“Will you at least be home later? We have to talk about this, Apollonos.”

“Don’t fucking know, all right?” I growl, twisting my hair up on my head. “Got a lot of shit going on.”

“Like what?” she asks, tossing her hands in the air. “We’re not doing good, Pope. What the hell is more important than that right now?”

“Club business,” I say, snapping my chains on my wallet in place.

“Don’t,” Birdie growls. “Don’t you pull that bullshit with me. I’m not a fucking common club girl. You don’t get to treat me like that. I deserve better.”

The anger and pain in her voice slams into my chest and threatens to rip my heart out.

“Later, okay?” I promise distractedly, brushing a kiss against her lips and walking out.

We sit around the table in the chapel as I read over the note and flip through the recent pictures of Birdie and Valkyrie. There’s more of my woman than her sister, which tells me who Clink’s main target it.

“I’m fucking tired of this,” I snarl, throwing the pictures onto the table. “I need some motherfucking heads to roll. We’re gonna go out and ride until we find a fucking Steel Slayer because I want . . . no, fuck that . . . Ineeda head in my hand. Then I want to stake it on their gate for them all to see. They need to understand our bark is just as sharp as our damn bite.”

We roll out in formation, keeping our eyes peeled as we ride through Coral Cay and the surrounding towns. It appears they’ve all gone underground or locked themselves inside their compound after sending the latest threat, and it pisses me off. Clink and his club are toying with us. I’m no one’s fucking plaything, and the longer we go with Clink playing around, the more tallies he gets against him. He’s going to die either way. Those tallies just determine how painful and fucked-up it’s going to be.

We’re riding back into Coral Cay when my eyes are drawn to movement down the alley next to Saint's Garage. The lights hit the back of the man terrorizing a woman cowering against the wall. I grit my teeth and curl my top lip when I make out the familiar Grim Reaper logo.

Adrenaline pumps through me and excitement makes my balls tingle.

My brothers follow my lead as I swing us toward the alley. We spread out as we pull up, blocking his way out. Silence fills the air around us as we kill our engines, and the Steel Slayer whips his head our way. The whites of his eyes shine bright through the darkness when they widen.

Did he really think he could pull some shit like this in my town and get away with it? These are my fucking people, and we protect them from the other monsters who find themselves roaming our streets. The residents of Coral Cay feared us at first, but the longer the club was rooted, the more we grew on them. They trust us and come to us with shit they see going wrong in town.

Relief flashes in the woman’s eyes, and I recognize her as one of the dancers at The Body Shop.

“Get gone,” I order her.

She sobs and ducks under the frozen Steel Slayer’s arm. He comes alive just as she scurries out of the alley and into the night.

“Nuh, uh, uh,” I warn when his hand drifts to his kutte. “You won’t make it before my man puts a pretty little hole in your head.”

The chains on my boots smack together as I close the distance between us, creating a tinkling melody as my theme song.

I’m just a few feet away when he chooses to prove he has rocks rattling around up there and pulls his gun on me.

I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth. “There’s always that bulb that never shines very bright, and I get stuck with him. Lucky for me, I suppose.” I stare at him intensely, watching for any tiny movement he might make. “Well, are you going to pull the trigger or what?”

“You’re fucking crazy,” the Steel Slayer mutters when he realizes I don’t fear the gun he has shoved in my face.

I sigh, put out that he’s not squeezed the trigger yet. “So I’ve heard.”

Before he gets a chance to keep being stupid, I whip my gun out and shoot him in his hand. His pistol clatters to the concrete as he groans, and I laugh.

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