Heart Recaptured (Hades Hangmen #2)(79)

Styx leaned against the opposite wall, and I could see in his expression the brother was hurting too, for me, for his woman, hell, for the club. Those three crazy bitches had wormed their way into all the brothers’ hearts.

Staring at the gate, my vision blurred, and I said, “For the first time in my sorry twenty-seven years on this godforsaken Earth, I care about something more than the club, the freedom of the road, and my brothers. Now some f*cker may have ripped it all apart, before me and my old lady gotta chance to get going.”

Styx raised his eyebrow. “O-old l-l-lady?”

My eyes snapped open when I realized what I’d just said. My gaze slammed to Styx’s and it was like the brother could see right through me. “Yeah… f*ck!” I rasped out. “She is, Styx. I want Li, all of her, in my bed, on my bike, in my motherf*ckin’ heart. Shit, I’ve joined your lost-my-bollocks-to-a-bitch ranks!” I tried to joke, but f*ckin’ fear for Lilah took away any humor.

Styx flicked his smoke to the ground and took three steps forward to stand right in front of me. I looked up to my brother’s—my best friend’s—eyes, and clearly seeing the devastation written on my face, he wrapped his hand around my head and pulled me to his chest.

I f*ckin’ nearly broke like a *.

Pushing me back, Styx cupped my cheeks and let go of me only to sign, “I f*ckin’ asked you to watch Lilah so you could get to know her for more than her looks. I saw the way you looked at the bitch and I saw the way she looked at you too. I saw the spark but knew you were too much of a f*ckin’ whore to want her for more than a f*ck. I couldn’t let you do that to her, brother.”

“So what the f*ck changed?” I asked.

He shrugged and rubbed at his jaw before signing, “Thought if I threw you together, you’d get on board quick. And you did, brother; that bitch had you wrapped around her finger in no time, just like Mae had me. But when you gave up the club * you used to f*ck so much and you’re f*cked-up orgies came to an end, I knew Lilah was it for you. And I want all that I have with Mae for you, Ky. You deserve to be with a good woman. In this life, a good woman by your side and on the back of your bike changes everything when shit gets rough. Believe me, Mae’s my f*ckin’ lifeline in this cesspool we live in. She’s f*ckin’ everything.”

Tears blurred my eyes, and I gripped Styx’s cut. “I need her back, prez. Ain’t sure what I’ll do if she’s lost. I’m changed; she’s changed me. I’m under her damn spell and I sure as shit don’t wanna get out.”

Styx sighed and held my wrist. “I-I-I pr-promise. We’re g-gonna get her b-b-back.”

My head dipped and I sucked in a huge breath when, suddenly, the roar of a Harley’s engine came barreling down the road.

“Incoming!” the prospect shouted and began opening up the gate. Seconds later, three bikes pulled up: Tank, Bull, and what I assumed was our new protective custody knight of the Ku Klux f*ckin’ Klan.

At least he drove a Fat Boy; that bought him some extra points.

Tank dismounted and walked toward us with Bull in tow and the skinhead trailing at the rear. The guy was built, had a shaved head and more Swastikas on his body than Hitler had in the Reichstag.

As Tanner Ayers walked closer, eying Styx and me like a hunter watches his prey, I realized the man was a f*ckin’ unit. At least six-four and no less than two hundred and fifty pounds.

Tank stood at the bottom of the stairs, holding a backpack. Tanner had one too. Tank pointed at Tanner. “Prez, Ky, this is Tanner.” Tank faced Tanner. “Tann, this is the Hangmen prez Styx and our VP Ky.”

Tanner stepped forward, all muscles and stern face, wearing a wife beater and jeans. He was one tough-looking motherf*cker. Styx jerked his chin in greeting, and Tank looked to Tann. “He’s mute. Don’t talk to no one but his old lady and Ky.”

Tanner nodded sharply, the sign of a man who’d been following orders his whole life. “The Hangmen Mute,” he said, nodding at Styx.

Stepping down the stairs, I met the Nazi face to face. He never flinched as I pulled out a smoke, placed it between my lips, lit it, then blew the smoke out in his face. Gripping the smoke with my thumb and index finger, I asked. “So, Nazi, tell me. You got a problem with my man Bull here?”

Tanner clenched his jaw, his blue eyes boring into mine, and he gritted his teeth. “No.”

Looking over my shoulder at Bull, my gaze tightened. Bull was Tank’s best friend, but right now, he was as rigid as f*ck with this neo cunt present. His huge tribal tattooed arms crossed over his chest and his whole body was tense.

Stepping up to Tanner, my toes met his, and I said, “Bull’s Maori. Ain’t one shred of Aryan in his blood. No fiery crosses or white Anglo-Saxon stirring in his veins. So I’ll ask again. You sure you ain’t got a problem with our dark-skinned tribal brother?”

I caught Tank cuss behind Tanner, but Tanner never flinched. “I ain‘t got no problem with Bull. I ain’t got no problem with any of your brothers.”

“Really? ‘Cause all those pretty swastikas, white power brotherhood flags, skull and crossbones, and your f*ckin’ SS inkings say otherwise.”

Tanner dropped his rucksack at his feet and spread his arms wide. “Brought up in the life. Believed for a long f*ckin’ time that we weren’t all equal, that we shouldn’t mix, and that all that was important was the white Christian race, but not anymore. I’m twenty-eight, heir to one of the biggest Klan’s in the States, and found myself f*ckin’ obsessing about a f*ckin’ bitch spic. Let’s just say I ain’t the poster boy no more, not when I’m getting hard for Mexican *.”