by Tillie Cole
The silence hung heavily over the room, so I responded with the truth. “We love her.”
Ky stilled. Styx’s body tensed. Slowly, Ky lifted his head. His face was beet red, and I could see the brother wasn’t handling all this shit well. And then Ky said evenly, “The only reason you’re not packing your shit is because Sia loves you assholes too.” My heart kicked into a sprint. Cowboy shifted in his seat.
“We ain’t getting kicked out?” Cowboy asked.
Styx shook his head. Ky pointed to the wall. “Get the fuck up.” I wondered what the fuck was going on. Ky got to his feet, just scowling and waiting. For what, I had no fucking clue.
We stood and moved to the wall. Ky stood before us. He looked us both dead in the eyes. “As your VP, I can’t kick the shit outta you about Sia.” A cold smile pulled on his lips and he cracked his knuckles. “But I can fucking rearrange your faces as her big brother.” His punch smacked me across the jaw. My head snapped to the side, drawing back just in time to witness him deliver the same to Cowboy.
“What the fuck, Ky?” Cowboy drawled, as laid-back as ever.
Ky grabbed us both by our cuts, wrenching us forward. “You ever do anything to hurt her. You ever dare raise a fucking hand to her or make her fucking cry, and I promise I’ll cut off your dicks and make eunuchs of you both. Got it?”
“Graphic, Ky,” Cowboy said, rubbing his jaw.
Ky raised an eyebrow. “The only reason I’m not doing it now is because, for some fucking reason, she loves you. And she’s been through enough shit in her life that I want . . .” He bit his lip, like the next part was killing him. Finally, he managed, “ . . . you fuckers to make her happy.”
He didn’t say shit-all else, but I got the subtext—he was thanking us.
Cowboy held out his arms. “Shit, VP. Does this make us actual brothers?”
Ky glared at my best friend. He pointed viciously at our faces. “She better have a cut on her back by the end of the fucking week. You’re gonna own that shit, and you’re gonna kill anyone that has a problem with it.”
“We will,” I promised. Ky moved to me.
“I get you ain’t had the best life either.” He paused, and I felt my heart beating faster. Sia, I thought. What has she said? “You ever get in trouble, have shit to deal with from the past or even the present, you come to us.” He jerked his thumb at Styx, who was silently watching all this play out. He was looking at my healing bruises and cuts. “We got an old ranch that used to belong to one of the brothers who died a few years back. It’s near here.” He smiled. I got it. He wanted us close, to keep an eye on us with his sister. “Giving it to Sia. Selling her old place—too many bad memories there. It’s not on compound land, but it’s so close it may as well be. She’s part of this club now too. Too fucking late, I know. But now she’s here. And I want her near me.” He ran his hand through his hair. “No doubt you fucks will be living there too.”
“Yeah,” I said.
Ky turned, then, looking back at us, said, “If I hear one word about you fucking my sister . . . You tell any brother—” He stopped mid-sentence and corrected himself. “If you fucking dare tell Vike, then I get to rearrange your faces for real. Deal?”
Cowboy laughed, but quickly agreed, “Deal.”
“Deal,” I said.
Styx got to his feet. He lifted his hands and signed. Ky translated. “Outside. Now.” Ky fell into step behind him.
“Where the fuck we going?” Cowboy whispered.
I shook my head. I didn’t know.
Styx burst out of the back door, the sunlight fucking blinding me. I shaded my eyes with my hand, and fucking froze when I saw what was in front of me.
“Shit,” Cowboy rasped from behind me.
My brothers.
All my brothers, waiting on their bikes. Ready and in formation. I looked to the side to see Sia standing with Lilah and all the other old ladies. Ky and Styx turned to look at me.
Styx raised his hands. “You’re a fully patched-in member of the Hangmen, Austin mother chapter.” I noticed four empty bikes at the front of my brothers—Styx’s, Ky’s, Cowboy’s, and mine. Vike was lounging over the handlebars of his bike, a huge fucking smile on his face. AK and Flame were beside him. Smiler, Tank, Tanner, Bull . . . all waiting, watching me. Cowboy’s hand dropped onto my shoulder, fucking anchoring me, as always.
Styx’s hands moved again. Ky’s voice explained, “We’re your family. And family look out for each other.”
Styx folded his arms across his chest and watched on, as Ky met my eyes and continued, “And family fucking ride out, when one or more of our family members fall.” I sucked in a breath, and my body froze. “Your folks deserved to be honored in the Hangmen way.” I started shaking, my fucking eyes starting to water as I looked at my brothers again . . . All of them were wearing black armbands around their biceps.
I dropped my head.
Ky’s hand came around my head, and he pulled me to his chest. He kissed the top of my head. “You ride up front today, for your folks.” I fought the fucking lump in my throat. “Today, you fucking show the world that they ain’t forgotten. That we all fucking remember them.”
I turned, pulling out of Ky’s way, and put my hand on the wall behind us. Cowboy came to my side, and then I recognized Sia’s hand taking mine. I just fucking breathed, failing to keep my shit together.
Family, Styx had signed. Family.
When I could finally fucking function, I turned and saw Styx and Ky had taken their seats on their bikes . . . behind mine and Cowboy’s. Mine at the front. Cowboy’s slightly behind, but still fucking there right beside me.
I walked numbly to my bike. As I sat on my saddle, Lil’ Ash brought over a black armband for me, and Zane took one to Cowboy. Ash tied it around my arm. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from that black piece of material. For what it meant. What it truly represented.
Styx’s loud whistle jarred me from my thoughts. I glanced behind, seeing Styx’s hand in the air. I turned on my engine. Just before we rolled out, I caught Cowboy’s eyes . . . they were fucking shining too. He nodded at me.
I stared at my friend and then looked across at Sia. Tears tumbled down her cheeks as she held Lilah’s hand tightly. She kissed her fingers my way. A peace I’d never known until this moment filled me, settling demons that had been denied rest for so fucking long.
Then I led us out of the compound and onto the open roads. The roar of engines was the soundtrack to this moment. And as we drove through downtown, all of Congress Avenue stopping to watch as the Hangmen rode out for a fallen brother and sister, I couldn’t have been prouder to wear the Hangmen patch.
Because they were my family.
I finally belonged . . . after all this time.
After fighting my demons for so long, I let myself accept the truth . . .
I belonged.
*****
One month later . . .
Church had been moved to the bar. The room was filled with every prez and VP from all the southern states. Styx sat at the front of the room, Ky beside him. A large table had been brought in, big enough to accommodate the sea of men. I stood at the back with the rest of the Austin chapter. Only the prez and VP got a seat at the table. We were the only non-leaders allowed here today.
Cowboy was beside me, but his eyes weren’t on Styx; they were glaring at the cunt across the table. Titus sat next to Crow. Crow had met our eyes when he arrived. He shook his head. He still had nothing concrete on the asswipe.
The gavel slammed down on the table. All eyes moved to Styx. He lifted his hands and, as always, Ky spoke for him. “I’ll cut straight to the fucking chase.” Styx met the eyes of everyone in the room in turn. “We had some club shit several weeks ago, with the Quintana cartel. We knew when it all went down that the chance of war was high.” He paused, and Cowboy looked at me. I breathed, understanding now why this meeting was going down. I felt the tension seeping from my brothers around me. The adrenaline was begi
nning to build. “As of five days ago, the Quintana cartel has declared war.” The silence in the room became thick and heavy. “The Quintana family is in partnership with the Klan. They’ve declared war on us too.”
My breathing grew faster; bitterness, hatred, and everything I’d harbored toward those fuckers for years came rushing to the surface. “Hell yeah,” Vike muttered under his breath. I could hear Flame growling behind me, could hear the clenching of fists and fast breaths of excitement.
“We go on high alert,” Styx signed and Ky spoke. “I’ve only called on the southern states. But if this war gets messy, all chapters will be moving to Texas until it’s through.” Styx sighed, then added, “The last war took many lives.” He let that sit with us all. I looked at Cowboy. He looked at me, both of us feeling the gravity of Styx’s words. I faced Styx again. “I don’t expect this to be any different.” Styx looked around the room. “Some of us won’t be coming back from wherever the fuck this war takes us.”
“If we fall for the club, it’ll be a fucking honor,” Suede, the prez of the Arkansas chapter, said with pride. Brothers nodded. Styx nodded back in approval.
“We gotta be strong,” Styx signed, Ky his mouthpiece. “Only the most dedicated brothers fight.” Styx looked at Tanner. My brow furrowed. What the fuck was happening? Tanner ducked from the room. Then Styx looked at Titus. I stilled. Cowboy reached out and took hold of my arm.
Titus looked around the table. He smiled his usual fucking cocky smile. “You looking at me, Prez?”
Styx tilted his head to the side. “You got anything to say?” Ky translated. “Anything to . . . confess?”
Titus’s eyebrows pulled down. But the fucker shifted uncomfortably in his seat. I heard the door open behind me. Tanner re-entered the room, a folder in his hands. He stopped next to Tank.
“No,” Titus replied in answer to Styx’s question.
Ky took the lead this time. “We’ve been doing some digging.” He waved his hand at Tanner. Tanner walked around the table and threw down the folder . . . right in front of Titus. Titus stared at the folder. “Noticed money was coming up short from the New Orleans chapter.” Ky smiled his fucking Hollywood smile, but it was laced with fury. “Turns out a little prez with white-power dreams has been skimming to fund his local ole-worldly Ku Klux Klan.” Ky tutted, the room rising with tension. “And that just ain’t playing by the rules.”
Titus threw the folder back across the table. “This is bullshit!”
“Won’t let anyone of any color in the chapter, except white.” Ky sat back in his seat, folding his arms. “Then blaming the theft on the only brown brother and banning him from your club.” My eyes widened. Titus snapped his head to me. His lip curled in disgust. Crow looked too, and I could see a fucking flare light up his face.
“Got anything to say, fucker?” Ky asked sweetly, then dropped his smile. “You have the floor.”
Titus jumped to his feet. His eyes narrowed and roved all around the room. “This fucking club used to stand for something. We were white. Only allowed in white members.” He spat across the table, aiming for me. “Then y’all start letting in blacks and browns and whatever the fuck else inferior types you could find. The club quickly took a fucking nosedive.” Titus looked at Ky and Styx. “When your papas were in charge, at least in the beginning, they had it right. Only fucking soldiers wore the Hangmen patch.” He glared at Styx. “Then the stuttering retard moved in and took over. Coughing and spluttering over words, having to speak with his hands like a fucking pussy. Making us the fucking joke of every one-percenter club in the States—”
Styx launched from his chair, as silent as the fucking night, and grabbed Titus by the cut. He dragged him to the front of the room, kicked his legs from under him, and shot him right through the fucking skull.
Styx tossed Titus’s still-warm corpse to the ground, only stopping to rip his “Prez” patch from his cut and slam it into Crow’s chest. Tucking his gun back into his jeans, he signed, “Congratulations, you’re the prez now.”
Styx took a seat and, like there wasn’t a fucking dead man on the floor, blood pooling at his feet, signed, “Any other disloyal fucker I gotta deal with?” Heads shook. Styx exhaled. “War is coming. So fuck your old ladies, drink as much fucking bourbon as you can take, and get the fuck ready . . . because some of our days are numbered.”
Styx lifted the gavel, calling time on church. The minute wood hit wood, the doors slammed open behind us. We all spun around to see a tall blond guy walk through the door. His hair was styled to the side, like he belonged in the fucking nineteen-forties. A short beard framed his face. He smiled. “Long time no see, you fucking bunch of Yank wankers!” His thick British accent traveled like lightning through the room.
“Yes!” Vike shouted, jumping from his seat, cutting through us brothers to pick the guy off the floor and spin him around. “Hell to the fucking YES! Fucking Barnaby Rudge!”
“Vike!” the guy greeted him, a fucking wide grin on his face. “How’s my partner in crime?”
“Fucking ecstatic now you’re here.”
Ky pushed through the crowd. He groaned and rolled his eyes. “Rudge, what the fuck are you doing here?”
Rudge threw his arm around Vike, their massive heights matching. With a shit-eating grin, he explained, “Over here bare-knuckle fighting on the circuit. Heard there was a meeting of the prezes and veeps here in good ole Texas.” He flicked his chin. My eyes fell to his cut. He was from the London chapter in England.
“Yeah, VPs and prezes,” Ky confirmed, leaving the sentence hanging. Rudge clearly wasn’t either.
He shrugged. “Yeah, mate. But it’s me. The fucking Judge! Knew you’d want me here, if you knew I was close.”
“You know it!” Vike tapped Rudge’s back with his big-ass paw.
“So?” Rudge asked, his gray eyes finding Ky. “What’s going down?”
“We’re going to war,” Vike said excitedly. “Cartel and Klan together.”
Rudge moaned, eyes rolling back in his head. He bit his lip. “Fuuuuccckkkkk . . . I almost came.” He leaned in close to Vike. “Say that to me again, big boy . . . real fucking dirty.”
“War,” Vike whispered and let out his own fake moan.
“Yep,” Rudge said. “It just happened. Jizzed all over my fucking boxers.” Rudge walked to Ky and threw an arm around him. He was mid to late twenties, maybe, and fucking cut to pieces.
I knew this because Vike lifted Rudge’s shirt and said, “Shit, Rudge, you’re still fucking cut.” A massive Union Jack was tattooed on his chest, along with a British Bulldog smoking a pipe on his stomach.
“Always.” He threw a few rapid air punches at Vike. “And still killing people with one punch.” Fucker was fast. He looked like a good fighter. “You got a room for me, big boy?”
“Fuck yeah,” Vike said, and they disappeared into the mass of brothers moving to the bar to drink.
“Fuck. If it rains, it fucking pours,” Ky muttered as he went to find Styx.
As everyone walked away from the table, my eyes fell on the body still on the floor. A hand came on my shoulder. Someone moved to my other side. I looked up to find it was Crow and Cowboy. “Guessing one of you did this?” Crow said.
I shook my head. Cowboy did too . . . then I met Cowboy’s eyes and knew we both were thinking the same thing.
Sia.
“Well,” Crow looked down at the patch in his hand. “Looks like I got a fucking club to run.”
“Congrats, you deserve it,” I said sincerely. Cowboy shook his hand.
“You’re welcome to come back,” Crow said. “Back home. There’s always a place for you at my table.”
I met Cowboy’s eyes and knew he felt the same as me. “Home is Texas now, Crow. But thanks.”
He nodded. “Thought as much, but wanted you to know it anyway.” He went to walk away, but I took hold of his arm.
“You . . .” I cleared my throat. “You take care of . . .?” I trailed o
ff, not even wanting to say their names.
Crow’s smile was nothing but fucking evil as it spread on his lips. “Oh, mon ami, I fucking took care of them all.” He closed his eyes and groaned. “In fact, I replay that shit in my head every night just to send me to sleep.” He walked off, and I took a quick exhale. Jase and those other fuckers were gone.
Justice had been served.
The last tether that had pulled at me since that night finally broke free. Cowboy threw his arm around my shoulder, kissed my head, and asked, “Drink?”
I nodded, about to go with him when Tanner came and stood beside me. He rocked awkwardly on his feet. “Can we talk?”
My eyes narrowed, but feeling an encouraging squeeze from Cowboy on my arm, I nodded. I followed Tanner outside to the bench looking out on the mural of Hades and Persephone.
Tanner took a seat. He waited until I sat beside him. He took a smoke from his cut and lit it up. Taking a long inhale, he breathed it out and then bowed his head. “I get it now,” he said, his voice fucking rough. In fact, now I looked at Tanner, he looked like shit. His skin was paler than normal, and dark circles ringed his eyes.
He turned to look at me. “I get why you had an issue with me.” He laughed, but there was no fucking humor in it. “I mean, I got that you probably looked at me with my white-power tattoos and, with you being . . .”
“A half-breed mongrel?” I hissed, still finding some leftover anger.
Tanner’s face fell. “I would’ve called you that once. And worse. I would have made your life hell.” He sucked in a breath, and then admitted sadly, “And I would’ve sanctioned what was done to your folks . . . I might have even been there myself.” I jumped to my feet, fucking hands clenched. I turned on him, ready to kick the shit out of him. The fucker was waiting, arms down and ready to take it. That gave me pause. Tanner swallowed so hard I could see his Adam’s apple bob up and down. “Go on,” he rasped, flicking his smoke to the ground. I breathed, trying to calm down. When I didn’t move, he repeated, “Go on. I fucking deserve it.”