The Outlaw's Obsession(7)

Jagger reached over and clapped him on the back.

Brick kept speaking. “One of the Wolverine club members did this to my face after a bar altercation. They are fucking psycho as shit.” Brick leaned in and stared at Dallas. “You don’t ever give a Wolverine enough slack. They will end up taking that rope and hanging you with it.” There was a moment of silence, because even though Brick had gone all intense, the male spoke nothing but the truth.

“He scarred you up because of a bar brawl?” Dallas sounded stunned, and pissed. “Brother, you should have killed him.”

Brick grinned sinisterly. “Yeah, it almost came down to that, but when there were bodies lying all around us everyone realized it would only end in both clubs being extinguished.” Brick clenched his hands into fists on top of the table. “But make no fucking mistake, Trick will get what’s coming to him one of these days.” He grinned again, and this time there was dark intent.

“Brother, I don’t know if I would have been able to stop if a motherfucker did that shit to my face.” No one said anything after Dallas spoke, but it was time to move this conversation into less deadly territory. Brick might have been the one to back off when shit happened with Trick—which had to be harder than anything he had ever done before—but the club knew that even though it had been smoothed over, it was only temporary. Everything always came ‘round full circle.

“All right, enough with this shit. Let’s go chow down, get drunk, and fuck some club pussy.” Shouts and growls rang out after Jagger spoke, and then everyone was standing and heading out of the meeting room. Jagger placed a hand on Brick’s forearm, and his Sergeant at Arms stopped and looked over his shoulder. “Can I have a minute, brother?”

Brick sat back down.

“Diesel, shut the door on your way out.” When his VP was the last one out and the door was shut, Jagger leaned back in his seat and stared at Brick. “You doing okay, man?”

Brick leaned back as well, threw his arm over the back of his chair, and met Jagger’s stare head-on. “Everything’s cool. Why do you ask?” Brick’s voice was flat, and Jagger worried about his right hand and the rage that he knew was boiling inside of Brick.

“You know that if you want to get your retribution on Trick the club backs you up. It was your decision to back off,” Jagger said, facing Brick.

“I know you all have my back. I wanted his head on a fucking platter and nothing has changed, but as time passed shit kept coming up with the club. It was never the right time to take him out, and maybe that was a good thing since we need him for coke hauling. Once that is set then things will eventually run their course.” The cryptic words that came from Brick didn’t go unnoticed by Jagger, but he also knew that when the time did come for Brick to deliver payment for what the Wolverines did to him, the club would most definitely back him the fuck up.

Jagger nodded, clapped Brick on the back, and stood. “You sure you’re up to heading to Trick’s place with us?”

Brick nodded once.

Jagger didn’t miss the way the other member’s claws came out, or the scent of his grizzly bear rising.

“I’m good, Jagger. I can control my shit.”

Jagger stared at him for a minute, felt a little off balanced with the other man so high-strung, but knew that if Brick needed help he’d ask. He’d known the male for years and trusted him with his life. Hell, Jagger trusted all of his crew with his life, and he knew they felt the same. “Come on, brother. Let’s let loose.” They both stood and headed out to the main part of the clubhouse. Once the doors to their meeting room were shut Jagger motioned for Starla, a newer club whore, to come closer.

“Hey baby, you need my help?” She licked her lips and eyed Jagger up.

“I need you to show some love to Brick.”

She gave him a wide smile and headed over to Brick without complaint. Brick liked pussy as much as the rest of them did, but he never showed emotion, and the rumor was that he liked to get a little rough when he fucked. But whatever the hell floated his boat. Jagger was into a little bondage, but most of the time he just screwed to get off.

Jagger turned and headed straight for the bar. The music was already blasting, and one of the prospects was manning the bar. Jagger took a seat, asked for a beer and shot, and turned to look at his club members while Darren got it for him. Diesel was once again sitting by the stripper pole. Brick was busy getting felt up by Starla, and Dallas, Drevin, Court, Stinger, and Bill-O, a member old enough to be their fucking granddad, were getting ready to play a game of pool. There were several other members hanging around, some getting head, and others passing around a joint. Many of the former members—the ones still wearing a patch but mostly just hanging around and not chiming in during the discussion—had old ladies at home taking care of their kids, but they were here getting a little pussy here at the clubhouse. But it wasn’t Jagger’s place to bring that up, because his boys already knew that shit. Bill-O was one of those said members, but he was more of a clubhouse fixture than anything else anymore. But Jagger was getting old as fuck, too, and at forty-two he was getting tired of going from one pussy to the next. The thought of spending the rest of his life banging club whores was almost depressing.