Released (Devil's Blaze MC #3)(49)

“We loaded and ready, boys?”

“You trust this f*cker to stick to the white flag?”

“Something tells me yes, but we have the surprise just in case, right?” I ask Beast, and I’m talking about the grenades each of us are carrying. I’m not sure we’d manage to get out of the mess, but they sure as hell wouldn’t. Life’s a risk. “Go big or go home” seems to be my motto lately, even if I am getting damn tired of it.

“I’m loaded,” Torch says. Beast grunts, which I take to be an affirmative.

“Let’s get this the f*ck over, then. If nothing else, maybe the f*cker will help us find Colin.”

We walk together towards the bar. There’s a big guy about the size of Beast standing at the door.

“Weapons,” he says, and the guy is smoking crack if he thinks I’m about to give up my firepower.

“Forget it, ?esé. I’ll be keeping them or this meeting isn’t happening,” I tell him.

Apparently he’s hooked up and monitored because I see him hold an earphone in his ear for a second, then he backs away and holds the door open. I see Torch flip the man off out of the corner of my eye. When we clear the door and I give him a look of reprimand, the bastard winks.

The room has been cleared. All the tables are pushed out of the way save one in the center of the room. There’s five men at the bar and they’re all older. None of them are the Saints crew I’ve dealt with before, but their cuts proclaim them to be part of the club. At the table are two men, one of them being Tucker.

“Beast,” I call.

“Got it,” he says, and then he stands in front of the men at the bar. He’s not blocking their view of the table; he’s just guarding our backs. I’m not going out like a punk with a bullet to the back and I don’t put it past the Saints not to try and pull that kind of shit.

“Skull,” the biggest one of the two says. He’s a big man, and when I say big, I’m not talking about height or muscle. The guy obviously likes his beer because he has a gut on him. Still, he’s broad in a way where you know he could put a hurting on a man if he wanted. He’s got long hair, which at one time used to be brown in color, but now is silver-white. He reaches out his hand, which is just as meaty as the rest of him. He’s got two fingers on his right hand cut off at the knuckle. His index finger is intact and carries an insignia ring with a T on it.

Tucker.

I take his hand, shaking it firm and dry. You can tell a lot by a man’s handshake. For instance, Tucker’s whelp Viper always had a damp hand; sweat would roll of the bastard.

I take a seat and Torch remains standing behind me.

“What’s this about?”

He looks me over. I face him head-on, wondering just what the f*ck his game is.

“I wanted to tell you a story,” he says as I lean back in my chair.

“Never was much on books or libraries, and my school days are well in the f*cking past.”

“I get there’s bad blood between you and Viper. It’s nearly destroyed both our clubs. I hoped Viper would prove to be a good leader.”

“I’d say your hopes were motherf*cking dashed,” I answer.

“He’s weak. A product of his mother, a club whore. A man should be more careful with the woman he chooses to give his dick to.”

“Is this the story you wanted to tell me? Because I have to tell you, hermano, I have zero interest in where your polla has been.”

The man gives me a smile and eases further back in his chair, looking at me as if I just passed a test of some sort.

“You had a good woman for a mother. I can tell.”

There’s a faint ache in my chest as I remember my mama. “She was,” I agree.

“And your father was smart,” he adds.

“My father was a bastard.”

“Most of us are,” he points out, and I can’t argue.

He turns his head. “Are you the one that my men tell me is called Torch?”

I feel Torch shift around on his feet behind me. “I am,” he replies.

“Word is, you’re marrying one of the girls Colin has a price on.”

“I am,” he repeats, and I feel the tension coming off him.

“I hear he’s asking two million for each girl now.”

“No one’s touching her.”

“If the purpose of this meeting was to try and gain the women, you’ve wasted our time,” I tell him, getting ready to leave.

“You’re protecting both of them?” he asks, surprised.

“They’re property of the Devil’s Blaze,” I tell him.

The man curls his nose in distaste. “Property can be sold and bartered.”

“Not in this case,” I growl.

“You’re very much like your uncle. Did he ever tell you how the real feud between the Saints and the Blaze began, Skull?”

“No, and I never gave a f*ck once I took over. Viper struck out against my men and I retaliated.”

“Just like that,” he states, as if he’s thinking about something else.

“A man ain’t a man if he can’t protect what is his,” I respond, thinking if I leave now I can get back to Beth in time to take her back out to the lake.