Part 15 (2/2)

A few minutes later, I'm back at my seat and hanging with the still-growing table of brothers. After what happened earlier, it seems no one is interested in sleep. And it's not as if I feel uncomfortable with their company, per se, it's just that I understand them. Their common connection is being part of the club; their common interest what goes on inside of it.

”Max, you're lookin' a little worn,” Charlie tells me and the table.

He's right. Not only am I physically exhausted from stress and lack of sleep, but my mind won't stop racing. I'm not big on drinking, never have been. However, tonight the alcohol acts as a soother, drowning out what's in front of me even as I sit in the eye of it.

”I'm good,” I reply.

The men gaze beyond my shoulders. When I turn, I also find Cilas standing near the bar with a drink in hand. He doesn't look hurt, other than a few scratch marks. His face looks heavy, and I'm unsure if it's from worry or satisfaction.

”Think he's ever said a f.u.c.kin' word?” Dog asks Iron in a low voice.

Wick returns the question with one of his own. ”Think he has a f.u.c.kin' tongue?”

”Doubt it,” Charlie answers. ”I was with him once when he got stabbed. No way do you not make a sound when there's a blade twisting around in your gut. f.u.c.ker didn't even flinch, just pulled it out and beat the guy who did it to the ground.”

”Kill him?” I ask, curious on how one of Casey's only possible allies would handle being attacked.

”No. I offered to help, but he refused.”

”With a head shake,” Iron puts in with a laugh.

A while later, after Cilas had taken off, I admit I'm feeling no pain. Along with the many bottles of beer, I've also consumed several shots. Again, I'm not a big drinker and I've realized too late that I'm a little drunk. It's irresponsible to do this in their company, but with Hangar down for the count and Cilas still somewhat on guard, I need to take the opportunity to unwind. My mind is still reeling from all Viktor had explained.

Don't take my offer to mean I'm not capable of anything more than selling women.

Nothing he said has left my mind, but that statement runs on an endless loop in my head. Viktor may care for Casey-f.u.c.k, he may even love her as he does Anna-but he'll sell her to make his money just the same. This is in no way the charity he believes he's running.

The guys continue laughing, making jokes about Cilas and doing near exact impersonations of Hoss. I finally find myself relaxing and almost enjoying their back-and-forth banter. It's then I watch as Charlie's eyes scan the area to my left. Even in my semi-drunken fog, I hear the gasp coming from my right just as Dog's face goes pale.

”Jesus mother f.u.c.kin' Christ,” he says before I turn in my chair. ”No more jokes about Ci,” he demands with further fear. ”Christ in G.o.d's Heaven.”

I look to Charlie on the other side of me and watch as his own face tightens. He mutters a quick ”f.u.c.k” before I turn around and find what the commotion is about.

Standing behind the bar, opening and closing cabinets below with a slam of each, stands Hangar. More so, what's left of Hangar's face.

The room deadens in silence and before anyone can say a word, Dee Dee rounds the corner. Her eyes are swollen, but I a.s.sess this time it's from tears not his fists. Hangar hasn't put his hands on her this evening-probably only because he hadn't had the strength.

Dee Dee walks to the bar without chancing a glance our way and a.s.sists Hangar with pulling out a gla.s.s and pouring him a shot of Jack Daniel's. He takes it back, slams the gla.s.s, and she fills it again.

Before he's even finished the second shot, his gaze comes to mine and he slams the gla.s.s back on the bar. The dead look in his eyes is an irrefutable shade of evil.

”Hang,” Iron voices. ”You wanna come sit down?”

Without releasing an appreciative expression for the invite, Hangar replies, ”f.u.c.k all you c.u.n.ts.”

Charlie, being the most vocal and jovial of anyone at our table, replies, ”No, hamburger face.” He smiles. ”Looks like you got f.u.c.ked, brother. Cilas treat you with care when he finished f.u.c.kin' ya?”

Before Wick can finish the sentence he started in regards to 'calming down', Hang has pushed his way through Dee Dee. Her back hits the edge of the bar and I stand, watching as she loses her balance and nearly falls.

Stumbling along, Hangar makes his way to where we're sitting and stops just short of me near the table.

I stand in protest and immediately feel his breath on my face, the stink of whiskey strong as he pours his pa.s.sive rage onto me.

”How's Marie?” he asks on a sneer.

I move to stand closer to him and his chest meets mine, taking a second to think before moving back. The smile on his lips is malevolent. My hand darts out, circling his throat, and I hear the chairs around us scuffle with each body's movement as the others start to stand.

”Say her name again, motherf.u.c.ker,” I seethe. ”Do it.”

His hands rise to either side of his body as the same s.a.d.i.s.tic smile remains in place. ”Maybe I had the name wrong, but isn't Marie your woman?”

”Emma is his woman, you idiot,” Dog answers from behind us. Dog and the others must not have any idea about my sister or they'd have kept quiet and taken the situation seriously.

Charlie, now at our side, reaches in and grabs my wrist from Hangar's throat. ”You've got to calm down, Max. Hang's not himself.” He's making excuses for the VP. Trying to bring me to focus before I lose myself and f.u.c.k up. ”You wouldn't be yourself either if Cilas gave you a f.u.c.kin' beat-down and didn't kiss you goodnight after he was done.” His last words are drawn out and aimed to p.i.s.s Hangar off.

Releasing my hold on Hangar's throat, but still standing toe-to-toe with the devil himself, I feel someone reach in from behind me. When I look back, I find the redhead from the poker game. Her body is draped along my back and her hands come to the front of my chest. She's using her fingers to twist the piercings on my chest through my s.h.i.+rt. When I take a quick glance back, her shy smile doesn't fool me.

Iron steps in, pus.h.i.+ng between Hang and me. He shoves him back and places his hand on my chest so I remain in place where I'm standing.

How's Marie?

The effects of the alcohol spin through my senses as I feel the redhead's tongue touch my neck, licking it, until her mouth is just under my ear.

”Let's find a room,” she coos.

Hangar lets out a disgusted breath, then bites out, ”He's a p.u.s.s.y, Angel. Enjoy that.”

Pulling my shoulders up and shoving the wh.o.r.e, finally known as Angel, off me, I head out of the bar alone to find somewhere to sleep.

Fun's over.

Chapter Nineteen.

I've learned I've not been overlooked by those I'll never be able to forget.

When Casey woke up this morning, her chest still felt the heavy, stark remembrance of the gift Max had given her from her Aunt Emma. Because of that, she did something she couldn't remember doing for a very long time-she woke up happy and ready to face the day.

The first thing she did after her eyes adjusted to the morning light was to pull out the book from underneath her covers. She had kept it there so she could guard it in the darkness. Immediately, she sat up, not worrying where she was or what the day would bring for her, and she opened the first page. Only then did she see the unfamiliar handwriting staring back at her with what she deemed was love.

True maternal, unconditional love.

Her eyes started to get blurry as she read: My sweet Casey, I think about you every day and can't wait to see your beautiful face again.

All my love, Aunt Em.

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