Tirone (The Night Skulls MC #2)(41)

He came in, shitfaced, glass shattering harder under the crunch of his weight.

“You’re coming with us,” she told him like a boss. Then she glanced at Furore. “Not that I’m afraid of Ty, but Fort will be there to look out for me just like when you were in prison. You have no excuse.” She held my hand, tilting her chin up, and walked us out of the lounge. The only sounds that accompanied us were our breaths and footsteps, Fort’s and the clinking of the knife she dropped on the floor as we exited through the front door.

Take that, Furore. Who’s Prez now?





CHAPTER 23


Jo



I pulled over at a motel, Ty and Fort parking their bikes ahead of me. I stepped out of the car—which the Night Skulls had fixed in one day—shock subsiding, body starting to shake, a headache slicing my skull in half. “I’ll take care of the rooms. Can I trouble you and ask you to get some medical supplies?” I asked Fort as I nodded toward Ty, who was hunched over his bike in silence. “I need to take care of his injuries.” Then I examined Fort’s face to realize he, too, was wounded. “Yours, too.”

His scowl deepened. “I’ll be fine. It’s that dick that needs help, and I ain’t talking about patching him up, y’all.”

“I can fucking hear you,” Tirone grumbled.

“Good.” Fort took a step in front of Ty, a vein popping in his forehead. “It’s time you got your shit together and got whatever help you needed because the next time you trash our house, attack any of the brothers or pull a fucking weapon on your prez, you’re fucking dead. You hear me, motherfucker? Don’t give a fuck if you’re blood. Dead.”

“Fort, please. Not now,” I asked, too tired and distraught to watch another fight, and Ty was volatile and vulnerable and dangerously violent. There was no telling how he’d react to confrontation.

“Fuck this shit,” Ty rumbled, sliding his feet down and adjusting his fists around the bars. “I’m outta here.”

My skin tingled with dread. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“Anywhere but here. I’m not staying at the same place he is.”

“Like I wanna be anywhere near your fucked up shit, but I have to baby fucking sit you because that’s what you are, a fucking spoiled, bratty child.”

“Fort, please!” I begged. I’d expect this attitude from Molar, not from Fort. I chose him to come with us because Furore trusted him with me and he loved Tirone more than everybody else at the club.

Fort spat on the ground and walked away.

“Ty, you have to stay, at least, until I take care of your wounds. You’re bleeding,” I said.

“It’s not the flesh wounds that matter, Jo. The wounds beneath the flesh hurt the most, bleed the most. Can you stop those from bleeding?”

The pain in his eyes was too much to stand. The blame, too. His gaze was saying, “How could you leave me for him? How could you be so blind? Why would you not forgive my sins when they were all out of my love for you? Why would you forgive his when his so called love was nothing but a delusion?”

“I was a defenseless animal. Caught in the lion’s den. I ran and ran but couldn't find anywhere safe. I finally hid away safe but alone. While the storm rolled in and clawed at my bones. Out in this land it’s hard to survive…with flesh wounds.”

Tears blurred my vision. “You shouldn’t be alone, Ty.”

“I won’t.” Something tugged at my purse before he adjusted the bike’s direction and started out of the parking lot.

“I’m serious, Tirone. You can’t go. Not like this.” I’d be worried sick. He was injured, and he might do something stupid again.

“Don’t worry. I’ll call my girlfriend. Maybe my little faerie will keep me company…like old times.”

My lashes fluttered and so did my heart. Was he saying what I thought he was saying?

“Get your ass back here!” Fort shouted as Ty headed down the road.

“If she doesn’t pick up, I’ll go for a ride near the lake and then come back.” Tirone revved his engine and cruised away.

“I should fucking go after him,” Fort grumbled. “What if he goes back to the compound?”

“He won’t,” I said, too certain, enough to raise suspicions. I cleared my throat. “Even if he does, Furore will never have him harmed.”

“It’s not that fucking punk I’m worried about.” Fort glared at me. “Neither should you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you should worry about your ol’ man, not the fucker that raised a knife at him?”

“That’s your prez’s son you’re talking about, my student whom I’ve cared about for a very long time before I even met any of you, a troubled boy who’s desperate for a father figure to accept and love him as he should.”

“Rex ain’t your responsibility, Jo. You ain’t his teacher here. You’re his daddy’s ol’ lady, and even if Prez puts a ring on your finger, you’ll never be that boy’s mother because Rex worships Delilah and no one will ever take her place. You’ll still be his daddy’s ol’ lady so get your priorities straight and know your role.”