It Ain't Me, Babe (Hades Hangmen #1)(55)

I was such a dumb f*ck.

With that, I left, intent on drowning my sorrows in my room with my buddy Jim Beam…

…Far, far away from any club sluts called Dyson who wanted to suck my cock.





Chapter Fifteen


Styx



Lois was buried five days later: black-and-chrome casket, dimes on her eyes, and laid to rest next to her folks in our compound’s cemetery—too many bodies filling that space of late.

Every brother and their old lady attended… and so did Mae. She linked arms with Rider, propping the brother up and fussing over him like a goddamn nurse. It took everything I had not to launch over the open grave and empty a 9mm into Rider’s skull. But even a sinner like me can respect the funeral service of a sister. Mae was stoic throughout the whole thing, Rider’s eyes constantly watching her and me always watching him.

I was finding it really f*ckin’ hard to deal with his wandering attentions on my bitch. That’s right, I reminded myself. Mae is mine. Just had to convince her of it somehow. ’Cause if she chose Rider over me, blood would be shed… and it ain’t gonna to be mine.

Two hours later, dusk settled in. We all gathered in the yard of the compound for the wake, grill lit, Black Sabbath’s “Heaven and Hell” blaring from the speakers, and liquor on free flow.

Mae stayed next to Beauty and Letti on the only patch of grass in the entire yard. The three of them were tight as sisters now. I was glad. She needed friends outside of Rider, f*ckin’ far, far outside.

Time to time, Mae would throw me a glance. Her eyes would bore into mine, but the warmth she’d always had for me was gone. The lust was still shining through as she checked me out, but the happiness and the softness had died.

She was f*ckin’ all smiles for Rider though, the brother looking kinda different now his hair was loose down his back and his trademark bandana was free from his head. Fuck knows what inspired his change in appearance, but we all noticed him changing before our eyes. He was talking more, socializing more, honing in on my f*ckin’ property.

Five days. Five damn days of watching Mae grow closer to the club doc while he recovered from his injury. Five days of sitting in the hallway like a f*ckin’ stalker, fighting back nausea when he made her laugh. And five days of blue balls and hangovers and not one f*ck. Christ, I hadn’t even jacked off. But there’d been one hell of a lot of bourbon.

I’d watched her last night in the brother’s room as she and Rider sat next to one another on the floor, playing some lame-ass board game. A f*ckin’ biker playing a board game. Hades himself would be laughing his ass off at the thought. But I wasn’t. Rider was teaching her the rules, guiding her through each play. Her face became more animated as she began to work that shit out on her own, achievement and victory in her expression. One thing was clear: she looked happy.

Now, I felt like killing myself every time she flashed him a perfect smile. The smile she used to throw at me. The smile I’d chased away trying to be f*ckin’ noble. The smile I’d chased away getting drunk off my ass, f*ckin’ things up with Dyson the cum vacuum.

To make matters worse, the Nazis’d vanished. They knew one of their own had been caught. They knew he’d spill his guts about their location. The Hangmen had stormed that joint, fully loaded, to take the f*ckers out, but the place was a ghost town: overturned tables, drawers emptied, and tire marks on the broken asphalt road. One thing was for sure, with a bid on my head, we had to find the skinhead base before they came at us again. I had too much going for me now. Weren’t ready to burn in Hell just yet.

The beer flowed.

Tributes to Lois were made.

The wake rolled on.

The brothers slipped from paying respects to a fallen sister to an outlaw’s usual acts of debauchery. Ky and the psycho trio led the whoring and drinking.

Taking a beer, I walked to the other side of the yard and hunkered down on the ground, leaning against a bale of hay beside the barrel fire. I grabbed my Fender, lit a smoke, and let my fingers take a lyrical walk. Willie Nelson’s “Blue Eyes Cryin’ in the Rain” hummed on the strings. Lost in the music, my eyes glazed by the orange glow of the flames, the words slipped out of my mouth.

“Someday when we meet up yonder



We’ll stroll hand in hand again



In land that knows no parting



Blue eyes cryin’ in the rain…”



With a final strum, the song played off. Casting a quick glimpse around to check I weren’t puling in a crowd, I relaxed. The brothers were now clustered in small groups ’round the yard, some gone home with their families, others f*cked off their face, the trio taking target practice at a can perched on Pit’s head.

Fuckin’ chaos.

As I searched around the yard, Mae was nowhere to be seen. Rider stood beside Smiler, the two of them cutting a f*ckin’ miserable picture, all long hair and sullen expressions. But Rider’s attention was fixed firmly behind me, his eyebrows drawn and his teeth worrying his bottom lip. Only knew one thing to make him act like that of late. Or one person, should I say.

Turning my head, I froze when a flow of long black hair whipped in the wind ’round the side of the garage wall. A second later, Mae’s blue eyes peeped around the corner, that small sweet smile on her pink lips.