I took two steps forward, the strong façade cracking with every inch closer I got. He stumbled, two of his friends catching him, holding him up as he scrambled to find his footing. I reached out, snatching hold of his shirt in my hand and yanking him forward. “Call the police,” I dared him in a low growl. “Maybe they’ll save your fucking ass from getting the beat down I’m about to give you if my boys come back carrying even one doped-up fucking female...”
I let the threat hang.
Enjoying the pure look of horror and uncertainty in his eyes.
“I heard he also called Avery a whore at school the other day,” Auron announced, leaning against the banister at the bottom of the staircase, looking pretty fucking smug. A lot of the kids had cleared out at this point or made a run for it after hearing the word ‘cops.’
“Well, that’s what she is, isn’t she?”
“Not to you, she’s fucking not,” I growled, my free hand curling into a fist, so fucking ready to just plow it through this little fucker’s face. Hearing Avery called a whore was like a damn trigger. It stirred all these fucking emotions in my head that I really wasn’t fucking sure I understood. She had me twisted in all different directions, so fucking tight sometimes I found it hard to breathe.
I needed to have control. It was who I fucking was. It was what kept me sane, which made me feel like I could keep my people and my family safe.
Avery, on the other hand, was this reckless, crazy energy that tested me at every corner. People were drawn to her, to that beautiful defiant soul. But she had everyone around her fooled. None of them aware of the pain she harbored, but it’d seen her fall into that pit more than once.
It was like having someone shove a knife in my gut and slowly fucking twist it.
I knew what it took to get her to that point, and I’d seen a flash of it in her eyes just now.
So God help me if I was about to let some jacked-up little frat fucker try and break her.
“Clear.”
“Same,” Repo announced, jogging down the stairs behind Crush. Mix wasn’t far behind, though he was holding a Ziplock bag in his hand, a dark frown on his face. I shoved the little punk backward and held out my hand, Mix tossing the bag straight into it.
Holding it up to the light, I tried to figure out just what the fuck it was.
I knew drugs.
But it didn’t seem like one I was familiar with.
Probably because despite the fact that we weren’t exactly upstanding citizens, we didn’t need to drug our women before we fucked them.
“It ain’t coke,” I announced, shaking the bag a little. The granules were different. Not like a powder.
“Ketamine would be my guess,” Mix explained with a sneer at the bastard behind me. “Found it next to a glass table with lines set out on the top. It’s a popular date rape drug. Easy to dissolve and mix into alcohol. Thirty minutes later, the victim is sedated and doesn’t remember much of anything when they wake up.”
Talk about breeding a generation of entitled little bastards.
They think they’re welcome to anything.
Money, drugs, pussy.
I tossed the baggy back to Mix. “Get rid of it,” I ordered, satisfied with his sharp nod.
Scratching my jaw, I turned my attention back to Cooper, who had his back pressed to the wall and a look in his eyes that let me know he was fucking petrified. The house had mostly emptied out bar a few stragglers, who were either too drunk to realize the music had stopped, or they were itching to see this little shit for brains get the crap beat out of him.
As happy as I’d be to oblige, today wasn’t going to be their lucky day.
“You stay the fuck away from Avery,” I snarled, my fist clenching. “Or next time I come back here, it’ll be to burn the fucking place down. With you inside.”
I didn’t even wait to see if there was a response, turning and walking straight out the door. I learned a long time ago to pick and choose the battles I wanted to take on. While Cooper seemed like a spoiled upstart brat, there was also someone bigger and badder who made him that way. And it was them I had to be fucking aware of.
As the club president, I had to know whether it was worth starting a war with an unknown enemy over what they’d done to Holly.
And the answer was simple.
No.
She was not a part of the fucking club. It was not our job to avenge her. And I just knew Avery was going to fucking hate that.
I stomped down the pathway toward the row of sparkling motorcycles parked up at the curb. When Tyler announced Avery was at some party, and there was shit about to go down, you can bet the club was there.
She was mine.
“Avery!” I called into the night.
She stepped out from behind the door of the SUV Tyler had driven here, knowing we would probably need to somehow move Holly.
“Get on.” I pointed to my motorcycle, and she frowned, walking down the sidewalk toward me.
“I’m going to go with Holly,” she announced, pointing back to the SUV. Tyler had been given orders to take her to the hospital. “Need to make sure she’s okay.”
“No. You’re going to get on the back of my fucking bike.”
“Shotgu—”
I stepped forward, quickly closing the gap between us. I dipped my head, my lips brushing her ear. “I will bend you over right here,” I growled under my breath, enjoying the way she shuddered, her eyes lighting up. “Holly will be fine. Tyler’s taking her to the hospital. I’ll take you up there after you and I have a conversation.”
She swallowed hard, the movement in her throat drawing my eye, delighting my cock.
I almost wanted her to argue.
Just so I could remind her of why she shouldn’t.
“Now… Get. On.”
“Yes, sir.” The sharpness and sarcasm in her tone made me grin, but only because I knew when we got back, and we had our chat that those exact words might have a very different meaning.
AVERY
“How was your trip?”
“The fuck were you thinking?” My tired body jolted as Shotgun slammed his office door behind him.
All right, so no small talk.
I tossed my backpack to the side of the room and pulled my sweatshirt sleeves down over my hands. “I was thinking that Holly needed me, and I wasn’t about to leave my friend high and dry in that fucking frat house of hell.” The tone of my voice got stronger and higher with each word.
Shotgun knew me. He knew I was this way. The hell did he think I was going to do? Leave her there while she was drunk, drugged, and at the mercy of a group of guys who had no shame, no empathy, no protective instincts.
“Holly has her own problems,” Shotgun argued, stomping past me to round his desk. “Problems that are not fucking yours to solve.”
“She’s my frie—”
“She’s on self-destruct!” he snapped, slamming his palm on the desk and making me jump. “And your loyalty to her is going to get you fucking hurt, or worse, killed.”
My right foot floated back at his anger, an unexpected chill settling down my spine at the instant change in the air. Shotgun placed his hands on his desk, leaning into them. His dark, narrowed glare sucking the air from the room, making it hard to breathe.