Page 22 of Knot My MC
“I want everyone strapped. No one leaves the club alone until we get a chance to talk to Axel.”
“Do you think that’s smart? His finger is probably already on the trigger.” Rukus frowns, his gray speckled beard twitching with the movement. “You’ll get yourself killed, Prez.”
Maybe, but I didn’t miss the way Axel’s men went for Hounds that didn’t have formal titles. They strategically killed lower club members. They could have shot me if they wanted, but they didn’t.
“Don’t worry about me. Keep yourselves safe. Jag and Crow will come with me.”
Royce side-eyes Crow who glares right back.
Leaning forward, I tap the table with my finger to catch Royce’s attention. “You have shit to say?”
“Maybe I should go with—”
“No. Crow is coming. He’s had my back more times than I can count.”
“If it’s my limp you’re worried about, Royce, I can aim and shoot just fine.” Crow mimics pulling a gun and pointing it at the other man. “Care for a demonstration?”
“We lost two Hounds today. Stop fucking around,” Jag snaps, making Royce sit back and rethink what he’s saying. “Does anyone else have anything to say about Crow?”
Everyone avoids our warning glares. I may be the Prez, but Crow and Jag command these men too. Together, we’re the alphas of Hell Hounds MC and unless someone wants to try to kill all three of us, they’ll have to live under our rules. That’s not to say we’re tyrants. We’re not.
Club business goes through the committee and voting, but when it comes to shit like whether or not Crow is capable, we don’t hesitate to flex our muscles. We inherited these positions for a reason. We spent every second scheming and strengthening the Hounds from the inside out until the club grew bigger and stronger than Wrecker.
Strong enough to fight for what we’ve always wanted. Big enough to keephersafe.
The gavel cracks against the table, driven down by my tight grip, and the men rise, exiting the room. They’ll inform the rest of the members and prospects about our orders while the guys and I try to set a meeting with Axel.
Crow snaps his laptop shut and slips it into the sleek backpack alongside his sketchpad. “Now that he’s dead—”
“I know,” I say, grimacing at what he’s implying.
“Axel’s going to try to take her.” Jag shoves away from the table. “I’ll grab extra guns.”
“I’ll go with you.” Crow follows him out of the room, his right leg giving a little with each step. A three year old present from Axel and his crew.
With nothing left for me in the room, I exit with them and reach for my phone in the small bin sitting on a shelf in the greater room. I unlock the device and pull up the old group text thread.
Kiki
I’m home.
None of us ever responded to her, and she never sent another message. She never called. She never tracked us down to demand answers. She never noticed we were taking her things. All the nights we broke into her house while Kiren went out, with her so close but so fucking far away, she never realized it. She didn’t do any of the things I thought she might, but that’s part of why I loved Kiki.
She’s unpredictable.
I close out of the old thread and start a new one, a message from me to her.
Knox
I’m sorry.
I stare at the screen for a few minutes, waiting like a hopeless fool. She doesn’t respond. I dial Axel, holding my phone to my ear while I scan the mostly deserted club. A few guys are drinking at the built-in bar, but for the most part people are busy working in the shop on the other side of our lot. Axel doesn’t answer either.
Jag and Crow rejoin me and I sigh. Jag lifts an eyebrow in question.
“He didn’t answer.”
“Did you expect him to?”
