Page 68 of Petty's Crime

When Saul’s silenced, all eyes turn back to me. Red pulls up a chair, straddles it backward, puts his chin on his hands and examines me like a specimen in the zoo. Displeasure oozes off him, and as often when he’s irate, his freckles are more pronounced. If my balls weren’t swollen, I think they’d be trying to shrink back into my body.

Shifting my gaze as it’s hard to meet his stare, I analyse the faces of the men who’ve come down with him. When my eyes meet Roller’s, he turns away, waves of disappointment coming off him.

Crash is staring at me with hard eyes, and Twister’s got a slight grin on his face as if anticipating the pain he’s going to cause. Indian, our sergeant-at-arms, wears no expression at all, but try as I might, I can’t find a glimmer of sympathy.

Shadow and Fox are talking quietly among themselves, their quick glances my way show I’m the topic of conversation. Titch has his arms folded and looks completely disgusted.

Keys, too, looks like he’s examining some kind of exhibit. Rope, Cuff, Cobra, Sarge and Hammer look like they’d rather be anywhere but here.

Not one of my brothers looks like they’ll be on my side, and none look like they can be appealed to.

Maybe this is what I set myself up for, what I wanted all along. For my brothers to see me as a man who doesn’t give a damn, who’ll stride through life making his own way without a care for anyone. A man who’s not going to be cowed or beaten down, and who won’t tolerate weakness in anyone.

Maybe I’m going to reap the rewards for becoming exactly the person I wanted to become. The man with no compassion or tolerance.

I could admit since Britney my life’s been a sham.

Or I could take my punishment for becoming the man I portray.

If I show how pathetic I really am, they won’t want me anyway.

Whatever I do, I’m damned.

Red clears his throat, loudly drawing my attention back. “I’ve given you warnings before, Petty.”

Yeah, but that was about his child Zeke and how I reacted to them before I got to know them. I’d never have been violent toward a kid, male or female or anything in between. Obnoxious, wounding with words, maybe, but never have I raised my fist unless it was against another man. I stare stoically back and don’t defend myself.

“We,” Prez continues waving his hand around in the air, “appreciate we don’t get up in personal business when a man and his woman are involved, except when it might mean the club has a problem. And, because of the business we’re getting into, we’ve definitely got a problem when you hit a woman totally unprovoked.”

I’d never hit RoseLyn if that’s what he means. I’m not some unpredictable abusive dick. And I didn’t hit Britney, she fell. As for not being provoked. I was fighting for my fuckin’ life.

But I keep my lips sealed. I won’t be making any excuses. If I think the brothers are looking at me with disappointment now, it’s going to be a hundred times worse when they know how feeble I am.

I shouldn’t be riding with the Satan’s Devils. I don’t have it in me to give what they’re looking for.

Red’s lips purse. “You going to offer a defence?”

My lips thin as I press them tightly together. In any event, I’ve obviously already been judged and found guilty, and I doubt anything I could say would change that.

Shaking his head that I haven’t stood up for myself, or maybe there’s a touch of respect that I haven’t tried to defend the indefensible, Red closes his eyes briefly. When he opens them, lines crease his face. It’s an indication he’s about to take action that he doesn’t much like.

I swallow a couple of times, trying to prepare myself, knowing there was no fucking way I could ever be ready to hear the next words out of Red’s mouth.

“We’re taking your patch. You’re out of the club.”

Now it’s my turn to shutter my eyes and squeeze them tight so I don’t let any tears escape. I’m trying not to show any emotion. I don’t have it in me to beg, wanting their last memory of me to be that of a strong man.

“Take his cut, Twister. Then we’ll teach him a fuckin’ lesson about what it’s like to be on the receiving end of someone’s fists.” Having pronounced his sentence, Red gets to his feet, and kicks the chair away.

The enforcer’s not gentle when he pulls at my cut. With my hands bound, the only way for him to remove it without freeing me is to cut it off.

I feel sick. I want to vomit. I want to scream out against the injustice. But I’d rather go out strong then prove just how weak and pitiable I really am.

As Twister gets out his blade, it flashes in the overhead light. I’d rather he thrust the blade right into my heart than slice through the leather that I’d worked so hard to earn, the cut that I still deserve whatever they think.

Why the fuck have you done this to me, Britney? What fuckin’ game are you playing?

Turning my head, knowing that I’ll feel everything Twister does but would prefer not to see, my eyes fall on one person I hadn’t noticed as she’d been hiding behind the others. It’s Britney. And hell, if any of my brothers turned around and could see her face now, it would make the truth drop into place. Even the dressing over her nose can’t hide she’s fucking elated. She looks like she’s getting off on my pain.

---