Page 15 of Brooks (Dirty Misfits MC 1)
If Raven looked to be in distress, I’d be there to save her.
Whether she wanted it or not, I’d make sure she stayed safe. Whether she wanted me or not, I’d always be there for her. Whether she loved me the way I loved her or not, I’d always make sure she had a roof over her head, a place to lay her head at night, and food on the table.
Because that was what best friends did for one another.
They looked after each other’s loved ones that always got left behind.
I’ve got you. Gage. One hundred percent.
I watched the door open, but I couldn’t see Raven’s face. I couldn’t see how she reacted to her little visitor, so I paid attention to him. I kept my eyes bouncing between the man on the porch and the two men still perched on their bikes. And out of nowhere, a nauseating thought crossed my mind.
What if she set Gage up?
For a split second, rage filled my entire body. For a split second, everything turned red. The idea that Raven could’ve been working with the Black Flags all along made me more murderous than I’d ever felt in my entire life. Bloodlust wasn’t something I indulged. That was more Chops’ avenue than anything else. But for the first time in my life, I justified the capture of a woman.
Because if she betrayed my best friend and got him killed, she’d answer for her crimes.
“Come on, you know her better than that,” I whispered.
Do you really, though?
“She’s a good girl. Always has been.”
Or is that all an act?
“Of course, it’s not. I was just here and all she was doing was watering her flowers.”
Hitler had an entire garden to himself that he tended to everyday.
I wished for the voice in my head to have a face so I could punch its teeth back into its brain. But the longer I sat there and watched the current predicament unfold, the more I worried that my brain was right.
Because no one seemed hostile toward one another.
If anything, everything seemed almost friendly.
Eight
Raven
I drew in a deep breath to cry out for help, but the man standing before me pressed his finger against my lips.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. I’ve got two other men with me, and they really think you’re a pretty little thing, Miss Raven.”
I swallowed hard. “What the hell do you want?”
“I’d tone that attitude down if I were you.”
My nostrils flared as I kept my voice even. “Then, get the fuck off my porch.”
He grinned. “You always were such a spitfire, weren’t you?”
He ran his fingertips down my cheek and I jerked back, trying to control the urge to shove him off my porch. I peeked my eyes around his body and saw a couple of other men on bikes about twenty yards away and they waved at me.
Before showing me the guns they had on their hips.
“Can I come in?” the man on my porch asked.
I looked up into his eyes. “No, thanks. But we can talk outside.”
I tried to step outside, but he stopped me with a hand on my shoulder. “I think I’d rather come in.”
I glared at him. “And I think that if you want to talk, you’ll do it outside. Because it feels like you didn’t come with orders to kill me, right?”
His eye twitched. “We can stand in the doorway, that’s fine.”
I knew damn good and well that these men weren’t Dirty Misfits. For one, their leather jackets were black. Not brown. And I knew by the gnarly scars on their faces that they rolled with one of the sickest clubs in Santa Cruz: the Black Flags. Gage warned me all about them during our marriage. He told me of the horrors this club brought down upon the people in their territory, especially the women and the single mothers. They saw women as weaker. As subservient. And if they sank their claws into a single mother, they’d use the mother’s children against her.
The stories alone made my stomach roll with sickness.
But standing in the presence of one of them made me angrier than I’d ever felt in my life.
You can handle your own. Remember what Gage taught you.
“You gonna tell me what you came all the way out here for?” I asked.
The man ran his eyes down my body. “Can’t a man stop by to pay his respects?”
I blinked. “Respects for what?”
He snickered. “For Gage, of course.”
I blinked. “He died five years ago. You’re a bit too late.”
He shrugged. “Better late than never, they say.”
“They do, but I don’t. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
I tried to close the door, but he slammed his hand against it. He shoved the door open and tried to push his way inside, but I jammed my fist into his gut. He grunted a bit with the force before his eyes lit up with anger. And when he swung at me, I jumped back.
