He shoved his tongue in my mouth and tightened his grip on my hair to keep me in place. He came moments later, groaning, and I burst into tears.

"Please, please," I begged, "Please let me go."

His nostrils flared. "Let you go?" He hissed. "Let you f.u.c.kin' go?"

He pushed me backwards and I tripped over the girl's legs and landed hard on my backside. Deuce shoved the girl away from him and hiked up his jeans. He glared down at me.

"Been tryin' to let you go, been tryin' for f.u.c.kin' years," He said roughly. "Haven't figured out how yet."

Speechless, I watched him stalk out of the kitchen.

The girl, who I had just realized was Lynn, my Uncle Joe's favorite girl, wiped the back of her hand across her mouth and looked over at me. "Bikers, Eva," She huffed. "f.u.c.kin' crazy."

"Don't say anything to Joe," I whispered.

"No worries, baby."

I heard the telltale sounds of Harley pipes growling loudly then fading off into the distance. I wondered if this was the last I would ever see of Deuce. For five years, I wondered.

Then one summer night I didn't have to wonder anymore.

CHAPTER NINE:.

Deuce cut his engine, toed his kickstand down and studied the farmhouse in front of him. Mick pulled up beside him. Five more of his boys followed suit.

"You sure 'bout this Prez?" Ripper asked, leaning forward on his handlebars. Even in the dark Deuce could see the ugly looking slashes that married the entire right side of his face. Right eye gone, right side of his mouth slashed, frozen in an ugly looking frown. His chest was worse. This was all courtesy of Crazy Frankie, who had done him over real good about two years back. Frankie was all about the torture before the killing. Luckily, Ripper had gotten away before the f.u.c.ker could do him in.

"How can you ask that?" Mick said. "After what he f.u.c.kin' did to you?"

Ripper shrugged. "Don't get me wrong Mickey, I want the f.u.c.k dead more than any of you."

He wasn't so sure about that.

"I'm just lookin' out for the club. We do this, we do Frankie, and we're at war with Preacher. Full out war. s.h.i.t won't be easy; it will be downright f.u.c.kin' ugly."

He looked back at the house. Loud music was blaring, bikes and a few pickups covered the lawn. Through the lit windows he could see people dancing with beers in their hands. It was a typical MC party.

But he wasn't here to party, he was here to kill the Silver Demon's VP.

He looked back at his brothers. "We all agree or we all leave."

Tag, ZZ, c.o.x, Mick and Jase all gave him the thumbs up. He looked at Ripper.

Ripper stared at the house. "We got the manpower to go up against Preacher. We got the connections, we got the money, we got the Russians, f.u.c.k, we even got some of Preacher's connections ready to go up against Preacher for the right price, so what the f.u.c.k. Let's do it. 'Bout time someone put that rabid dog down."

Deuce nodded to c.o.x. "You and me are goin' in. Tag and ZZ take back, Mick and Jase take front and Ripper...you just f.u.c.kin' wait and I'll bring the f.u.c.ker right to you and you can gut him like the f.u.c.kin' pig he is."

Ripper grinned his deformed half grin. "You sure do know how to turn a guy on, Prez."

He shoved an extra clip in the back of his leathers. "I try," he said dryly.

He grabbed c.o.x's arm before they entered. "Remember we need to be cool. Frankie knows we got beef. Look like you're here to party. Start drinking just don't get s.h.i.tfaced or grab some p.u.s.s.y but keep your eye on your phone."

"You got it."

It wasn't hard to grab p.u.s.s.y at an MC party, it was usually a free for all. But c.o.x, being c.o.x, shaved head and pierced everywhere, every-f.u.c.kin'-where, covered from neck to ankle in tats, the women f.u.c.king flocked. Boy didn't even have to crook his finger. They just magically appeared on their knees in front of him.

They walked in and split up. The place was packed solid with Demons. He saw a few Red Devil cuts wandering around and healthy mix of nomads, but f.u.c.k, there was a c.r.a.p load of Demons. He went straight to the kitchen, nabbed a blue, pushed off a crack wh.o.r.e who'd grabbed at him and started walking around, getting the lay of the place.

"Horseman!" A familiar voice shouted. A meaty hand hit his shoulder.

He turned around and faced the three hundred pound, sweat covered a.s.shole.

"Tiny," He said evenly.

"Whatcha doin' in Virginia?"

"Pa.s.sin' through."

"Lucked out brother. Mad f.u.c.kin' p.u.s.s.y here. Got sugar too."

f.u.c.king morons. Snorting what they're supposed to be selling. f.u.c.k-ing mor-ons.

"Gonna get some p.u.s.s.y first. Been on the road for weeks. You gonna be around?"

Tiny slapped his bicep. "Blow your load and come find me. Got some side business goin' on that you might be interested in."

Rolling his eyes, he resumed walking, stepping over drunk f.u.c.ks and drunks f.u.c.king. When he reached the back, a closed in porch that ran the length of the house, he stopped walking and started staring.

Leaning casually against the wall, smack dab in the middle of a long line of Demon's was mother f.u.c.king Frankie. And no, his eyes hadn't gotten any less crazy. But he had gotten a f.u.c.k of a lot bigger.

His long brown hair was pulled back in a man bun, displaying his spider web neck tattoos interspersed with extensive, thick scars. His beard was long and ratty and the brother's muscles were bulging out of the skintight Val Halen tee he had on.

He might have half an inch on Frankie but bodily they were evenly matched. And with the a.s.shole being as crazy as he was he wasn't too sure he'd come out on top.

Frankie and his crazy eyes were fixated on something across the room. He followed his line of sight.

f.u.c.k.

Black Harley tee, the collar cut off causing it to fall off her shoulder, exposing a new tat, a colorful collage of flowers. Her pants were leather, tight, and on her feet, sparkly silver chucks. Her dark wavy hair had grown even longer, nearly reaching her a.s.s. She'd gained a little weight, none of it bad. How long had it been since he'd seen her last and acted like a f.u.c.king a.s.shole? Four years? Five? She had to be around thirty now. She didn't look it. If he didn't know her he'd think she was in her early twenties.

He wanted her still. f.u.c.king. Bad.

He looked back at Frankie whose gaze hadn't moved, whose body hadn't moved. Every inch of him was solidly trained on Eva.

Crazy. f.u.c.king, scary crazy.

Eva looked up from her conversation with another woman, older, battered looking, wearing stripper heels, definitely an MC wh.o.r.e, and her gaze caught Frankie's. Frankie's eyes f.u.c.king blazed with possession and...insanity.

Eva handed her beer to the woman next to her and started for Frankie. Crazy f.u.c.k never took his eyes off her, watched her like a vulture does when it's waiting for something to die.

When she reached him, his arm wrapped around her wrist and he pulled her up against him. His head lowered and his mouth covered hers and he just f.u.c.king ate at her. Eva's arms went up around his neck; she pressed her body into his and kissed him back just as hard.

He stared at them, his fists clenched, his chest aching something fierce.

Frankie pushed Eva off him. "Got business babe," He yelled over the music. "Stay right f.u.c.kin' here until I get back or you're gonna catch a lot of f.u.c.kin' s.h.i.t from me that you know you don't f.u.c.kin' want and I don't wanna give it to you but I f.u.c.kin' will if you don't f.u.c.kin' listen."

She nodded. She just f.u.c.king nodded. Frankie walked off and disappeared out the back door.

Turning around, he dug his phone out of his pocket and dialed c.o.x. Brother answered on the first ring, breathing hard. The sound of skin slapping against skin came through the phone loud and clear.

"Yeah?"

"Got a problem."

"f.u.c.k. What is it?"

"Eva."

"She here?"

"Yeah."

"f.u.c.k."

"Yeah."

"Is Kami here?"

Deuce closed his eyes. What. The. f.u.c.k.

"No a.s.shole. Kami is not here."

"d.a.m.n."

"c.o.x, call the f.u.c.kin' boys. Have 'em stick with Ripper till I figure this s.h.i.t out."

"Got it."

He shoved his phone back in his pocket and headed back the way he came. After grabbing another beer, he headed out the kitchen door. The door had just barely shut behind him when he felt the barrel of a gun pressed against his temple. Startled, he dropped his beer.

"What's up f.u.c.ker? Think I didn't see you standin' there watchin' me. Think I don't know you're here for me? Been waitin' on you a.s.sholes for a grip now. Figured you didn't give a f.u.c.k I carved your boy up but here you f.u.c.kin' are givin' a f.u.c.k. Took you long enough."

He didn't say anything. There wasn't anything he could say that would make a man like Frankie back down. He had to think fast or he was going to die. Frankie didn't f.u.c.k around. So he played the only card he had. Eva.

"Saw your old lady in there Frankie, she's lookin' f.u.c.kin' good."

The barrel pressed in harder. "She's my f.u.c.kin' wife and you shouldn't be lookin'. People who look get f.u.c.kin' dead real f.u.c.kin' quick."

Wife. Christ.

He shrugged. "She ever tell you 'bout us?"

Frankie went stiff. "There ain't s.h.i.t to tell," he growled.

Perfect. So perfect. a.s.shole walked himself right into it.

"First taste wasn't yours kid. That was all f.u.c.kin' mine. Demon barbeque 'bout fourteen years ago. Right after she f.u.c.kin' denied you I had your b.i.t.c.h up against a wall, a hand on her t.i.t, two fingers up inside and my tongue shoved so far down her throat I could taste her heart beatin'. b.i.t.c.h loved it, was ready to give it up right f.u.c.kin' there. Didn't even remember your f.u.c.kin' name cuz she's pantin' mine. Her first f.u.c.k, got that too. Stripped her naked and f.u.c.ked her in an alleyway in the pourin' rain; had her f.u.c.kin' beggin' me for it."

Frankie sucked in so much air Deuce felt the world go dry. Time to sucker punch. He slammed his elbow into Frankie's chest, simultaneously grabbing the barrel of the gun, then he grabbed Frankie's arm and twisted, wrenching him to the ground. With one hand gripping Frankie's forearm, he put his boot on the f.u.c.ker's shoulder and f.u.c.king yanked. Crazy f.u.c.ker didn't even scream when his shoulder dislocated. Didn't even flinch.

Crazy. So f.u.c.king crazy.

Pressing Frankie's own gun into his forehead, he leaned down over him.

"Know how I know I had her first? Aside from her being tighter than a mother f.u.c.kin' vice. b.i.t.c.h fell to her knees after she caught fire and sucked her own p.u.s.s.y blood off my c.o.c.k. Didn't even know what she was doin', but b.i.t.c.h f.u.c.kin' licked my s.h.i.t clean and let me blow in her mouth. So it don't matter how many times you been takin' that ride cuz I f.u.c.kin' own that s.h.i.t. You can choke on that while your brains are leakin' all over the place."

"If you kill me," Frankie said quietly, eerily calm. "You'll kill Eva."

He blinked.

"What?"

"Eva. I die, she dies."

"How do you f.u.c.kin' figure?"

He grinned. "As a weddin' present I put a f.u.c.kin' hit on her. I die, she dies. b.i.t.c.h by my side in life, b.i.t.c.h by my side in death. Way it should be."

He. Just. Stared.

Stared.

There wasn't a whole lot in this f.u.c.ked up world that could shock him. He'd seen so much s.h.i.t in the forty eight years he'd been alive, most of which had all happened to him personally. And it had happened so often that when he came across some pretty f.u.c.ked up s.h.i.t, he wasn't surprised. But this, Frankie telling him in all seriousness that he'd put a hit on Eva, his life long obsession, his mother f.u.c.king wife, had shocked the f.u.c.king s.h.i.t out of him.

It also told him that Frankie needed to die. He just didn't know how to take care of that with Eva's life on the line. Yet.

With Frankie's gun still trained on Frankie, he pulled out his cell phone and called Mick. Two by two, his boys began appearing at his side forming a circle around Frankie. He held his palm up, silently telling them not to take Frankie out.

"Get up you sick f.u.c.k," Ripper growled.

Frankie got to his feet, his arm hanging limply at his side. He turned his back on them and positioned the side of his body against the house. With a heave and a shove, his shoulder popped back in its socket. Everyone stared. f.u.c.ker had b.a.l.l.s of steel.