Reign (Sin City Outlaws #1)(4)

“I know he makes sense, but my father was a Deluca. He kills rats.” I pound my fist on the table, making Felix have to start over on rolling his joint. “At least I thought he did,” I mutter.

“How else do you explain everything going down so quickly?”

“I don’t know.”

“Exactly. There is no other way. He tried to get your mother to take the blame, she didn’t, so now he’s making deals.”

Sitting back in the seat, I tap my foot anxiously.

“You want some?” Felix puffs on the blunt, gesturing it towards me.

Taking the rolled-up weed, I take a strong hit off it, hoping the earthy aroma will uncoil my fit of rage.

“You know Uncle Frank threatened me, told me if I didn’t make up my mind quickly, things and people would go missing.”

“For real?”

“Yeah.” I give a wry laugh. “I should f*cking put a bullet in his head.” My finger twitches, aching to get behind a trigger.

“Man, you better be careful saying that shit. Someone could hear you.” Felix knows how dangerous my uncle is.

Rubbing my knuckles on my jeans, wiping off the blood from earlier, I scoff. I have respect for my uncle, but I’m not scared of him.

“Man, I don’t know. I hate to say it, but it all makes sense to me. If it were me, I’d do it,” Felix continues.

“You don’t think Uncle Frank is just trying to take the club over, do you?” I can’t help but think it.

Felix scratches his forehead, his eyes squinted in thought.

“I don’t know. I mean, I know they got into a bad-ass fight about the subject several months back. Do you remember that?”

“I remember Uncle Frank wanted to use the MC as muscle. I think Frank got into some shit with the bosses, or was trying some start-up project… shit, I can’t remember.”

“Yeah, I only heard pieces of it, too. Your dad was good at keeping that shit locked down. I think Frank was trying to pull away from the bosses, create his own circle to overtake them or some shit.” He shrugs.

“Yeah, I’m not sure.”

“But you gotta know, when you have family, there’s always drama. Doesn’t mean Frank is trying to take the club. I mean, if he was, why not just shoot you and take it?”

My head throbs, my knuckles aching from flexing them so much.

“I think he’s just as concerned as us all, that one of these nights we’ll be the ones pulled from our bed by the pigs and taken into custody. He’s family, so why would he try to f*ck you over?” he continues.

I stand up, needing to move. Adrenaline and anger are rushing through my limbs, and me sitting here not releasing either has me about to combust.

“This club is a joke. Deluca, HA!” A drunk man stumbles into the club. A common hang-around, one who followed my father around like a lost puppy.

Marching toward him with angry steps, I fist his shirt and pull him within an inch of my face.

“What’d you say?” I seethe through gritted teeth.

“You heard me. This club is going to go down the shitter without your pops, son,” he slurs, spitting on my face.

I snap, plowing my fist into his face until the force of my hit knocks him from my grip.

He falls to the ground and I straddle him. Clutching his ripped shirt, I plow my fist into his face over and over again. The skin on my knuckles splits and cracks with pain, but I don’t stop.

“Gaaaah!” The man brings up his left arm, and something sharp slices across the bottom of my face. It’s a broken beer bottle, which strikes against my jaw and cuts my chin.

I stand and thumb at my chin. Blood pours from the cut.

My eyes dilate with rage. “You’re a f*cking dead man.”

He blinks rapidly, and I slam my boot into his face.

“Zeek!” Felix grabs at my arms, but before he manages to pull me away I stomp the man’s face again.

“Brother, get a f*cking grip!” Felix pushes me and I wipe at my chin, focused on the bloody, unconscious man on the floor.

“Jesus, man.” Felix turns, interlocking his fingers behind his head as he looks the man over.

I turn, trying to calm myself, when I catch my reflection in the mirror. My dark hair is everywhere, my beard needs a shave, and my chest is puffed out in rage. I look like my father.

I punch the mirror that lines the back wall of the bar. It shatters into a million little pieces, landing at my feet, some sticking to my bloody knuckles.

“Feel better?” Felix questions calmly.

“Maybe I should call Phillip.” Using the back of my hand, I wipe at the cut. It’s bleeding, and stings like a bitch.

“Who?”

“My brother, Lip.”

Felix gives a disgusted face. “Yeah, good luck.”

Me and my brother, we don’t see eye-to-eye on a lot of things. He is my mother’s pride and joy since he hates our father and me, just like our mom. My mother pretends like I’m an equal to Lip. I know better, though; I sense the hatred from her when she looks at me. When my father tried to get Lip to join the club, he refused and my mother had his back. That’s where Lip and I disagree. I know we were born to be in this club, but Lip, he looked at us with disgust.

Turning in my seat, I dial his number. It rings four times before it goes to voicemail. He ignored my call. As usual.