Page 61 of Blood Revealed

“Oh, she’s a right pissed lass,” Scotch says as he walks up to join us. “Never heard those words come from such a tiny thing before. But Crass threw her over his shoulder and stomped them toward their place, which means”—Scotch looks down at an imaginary watch on his wrist—“she’s beingconvincedright about now.”

After a while, we settle into a good night. The spread set out by our women and the caterers is some of the best food we’ll find anywhere. Most of the pieces have shown and are already showing our visitors a good time.

The beer and alcohol flows freely. No kids anywhere on the compound tonight. Not with the way these men party. If shit gets too rowdy, that could scar a kid for life. Several of the men have taken advantage of the show going on in tent two.

It’s a good night by all accounts.

I grab a fresh beer from the prospect behind the bar and a cider for Hannah. Though I can’t find my wife in the crowd and I look everywhere. When I can’t see her here, I head outside to see if maybe she’s on the job, working as a go-between for the dancers.

Parts of the compound are dark, but others we’ve got lit up like a baseball field with temporary flood lights. Over by tent two, I see my wife with one of the Chicago brothers, his back is to me. He grabs her arm as she attempts to pull away. Fuck that. I throw the drinks down and take off running. As I bound down on him, I hear the fucker say, “Come on, sweet tits. Seen you dance at the club a hundred times. Show me those tits.” He reaches up as if to rip at her top. I see her raise her fist to clock him, but that’s about all I see as a red film coats my eyes, blinding me to everything but ending that asshole.

I rear my fist back and lay waste to the fuck. He was so focused on trying it on with my wife, he never saw it coming. “Don’t,” I grind out, spit flying from my mouth. “Ever. Touch my wife again.”

The whole time Hannah’s screaming, “Raif, baby. You’re gonna kill him. Stop—you gotta stop.” She grabs my forearm with both hands, pulling with all her body weight to lower my fist. As the film begins to recede, I notice the blood on my fist and spatter on my shirt, on Hannah’s top. Still, my pulse pounds in my ears. A group has started to form around us, probably from hearing Hannah scream.

A beefy hand clamps down on my fist, squeezing until I drop my arm. Boss, the giant motherfucker, won’t ease up on his grip until he sees I’ve calmed myself. Breathing heavily through my nose, I nod once I’m checked.

Duke’s gruff voice splits the night. “The fuck’s goin’ on down here?” Our president stomps fast and angry to reach our group.

The guy can barely stand. He sways, coughing a liquidy cough, then he bends forward, hands to his thighs to brace himself as he pukes up blood and snot. Another man moves in to pat his back. I pull Hannah into my side.

“Iasked, the fucks goin’ on down here?” Duke repeats himself.

“Asshole tried to attack my wife,” I growl. “Saw him grab her arm and needed to show him why that wasn’t a good idea.”

“Raif, babe. I had it. Did you stop to think that he didn’t know I’m not dancing anymore?” Hannah asks.

“No,” I bite out. “He touched you. I don’t care if he knows or not; you never lay a hand on a woman unless she invites you to.Didyou invite him,baby?”

“First, don’t call mebabyin that tone. You’re just being a dick. Second, I’m not even going to dignify that with a response. I only just stopped dancing in the first place. They’d have no idea about that. We got married in Vegas. They wouldn’t have cause to know that, either.”

“Fuck,” I grumble. “Never been happy with you doing that shit.”

“What?” she yells. “Who was it that got me dancing in the first place, Raif? Can anyone sayhypocrite?”

“I only did it because you needed a job.”

“Yeah,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Let’s not forget I spent how many years trying to convince you to stop it too.”

“I needed money. Stripping made me good money.”

“I’d have taken care of you,” I argue back, bull-headed, breathing hard through my nose and mouth.

“As yourold lady. We all know why I couldn’t do that. And I don’t want to be kept, Raif. We’ve had this talk; I’m not programmed for that.”

“But you’re programmed to let fuckers try to see your tits?”

She slaps me hard across the face, leaving a burning, painful mark. “Fuck you,” she says, low. “I can’t believe you.”

“Han—” Fuck me, I knew I screwed up the second the words left my mouth. I jog to follow her but am stopped by Duke, who wants answers.

“He tried it on with Hannah,” I tell him. “What would you done it been Caity?” We all know exactly what he’d have done because that man is all about his wife, as he should be. She’s sweet, funny, a doctor, and fucking fine. My wife might not be a doctor, but she’s all that too.

“So you grab him from behind and move him away,” Duke says. And if that’s not enough, Tag comes jogging out from the clubhouse to see about the commotion. Someone must’ve told him one of his brothers got the shit beat out of him.

“This how you treat guests, Duke?” Tag, a large, crazy-looking motherfucker, barks. He wears his stringy hair long, to his shoulders and wild. Built like a tank, Tag is short for Toe-tag, and he lives up to it. That man has a massive body count under his belt. Only other crazy motherfuckers get on his bad side. Wild eyes. Tiny pupils. He looks cracked out all the time.

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