His teeth are perfect, straight and clean, but it's the way his slashed face, which holds that long, jagged scar, moves as he does that's frightening.

"Boys!" Hoss yells. "Ci, let him go," he demands next. "Hangar, unless you truly have a death wish, stop f.u.c.kin' with him and go about your business."

"Right, Prez," Hangar replies before walking out of the room without another word to anyone.

"Christ, these boys," Hoss says the moment he sits. "You gettin' an idea of why I want you to join the club at all yet?"

Taking a pull of my beer, I look forward to the mirror across from us at the bar. "Gettin' it."

"I'm tellin' ya, Max. You'd have the world by the a.s.s if you'd join us."

"Prospect life doesn't excite me," I return. "And I sure as f.u.c.k would never work for your crazy VP."

"He's all right," Hoss states in Hangar's defense. "Couple of screws loose, sure, but overall, he does what he's told. Everyone here has a purpose."

Sitting back in my stool, I turn my head to see Cilas still standing guard. "What's Hangar's story? How'd he end up here?"

"Phew. That's a tale of its own," he tells me, then takes a pull of his own beer he brought in with him. "Hang's had it rough."

Obviously.

"Most of the boys here have, but Hang's out there sometimes. He served a stint in prison for rape. I'm not sure the details, but the girl was young. Hangar could've gotten a bad rap."

Of course.

"Prison time for pedophiles, I suspect you can imagine, isn't time spent reflecting. It was hard on him. He's not a big man, so he was..."

"Someone's b.i.t.c.h," I put in, not letting him finish, but enjoying the first visual of Hangar I've ever had.

"Yeah, that and more. Got the f.u.c.k knocked outta him daily, too, I'm sure."

I'm silently wis.h.i.+ng I could've personally been there to see that s.h.i.+t.

"When he got out, he had nowhere to go and at the time, a friend of his, Triad, was my VP."

The one you had murdered-yes, I remember.

"He and Hang grew up together. Triad asked I take a chance on Hang. Wanted me to give him menial jobs to see if he'd work out."

"And he did," I finish for him.

"Yeah and no. I still don't fully trust him with any of the girls."

My eyebrows rise and, clarifying, I ask, "The property girls, not the wh.o.r.es."

"Exactly. Those pieces of property belong to Viktor, not me. Hang gives in to his temptations often in regards to rough s.e.x, which I a.s.sume is why he's with Dee Dee. So I don't want him near the stock."

Human stock.

"Hang fell in love with a woman a long while back. She was a townie, a girl from around here, too. I'm sure it was the first time he ever felt a caring thought about anyone, including himself. When s.h.i.+t didn't go down the way he wanted it to, meaning she refused his proclaimed undying love, he went wild. Punished her somethin' good. It was bad, and bad in the sense that it was hideous. I felt for him at the time. He was young, not bright, and he just snapped."

"And you protected him?" My question is stated as an accusation and that's exactly what it is.

"I did. Ever since, he's not been too tough to manage and when s.h.i.+t goes down, he's the first in line to defend Creed."

Changing the subject as my stomach churns and blood starts to warm, I ask, "What time is tonight's poker game?"

"It'll start in about an hour. I need Ci for a few other things before we head in. Need you to handle the girls this evening and meet us back in the game room. If you don't know where that's at, ask Wick or Iron. They'll tell ya."

"Anna on kitchen duty?"

"She is." He slaps my shoulder as he stands. "See, you already have this s.h.i.+t down. Rethink the cut, Max," he suggests in a serious tone. "We've got opportunities for you here."

f.u.c.k no.

"I'll give the thought its due," I return on a lie.

"You got your meet with Viktor before the party tonight. You ready for that?"

"Ready? As in?"

"As in, don't go in there with your mouth blazin'. He's not someone you wanna f.u.c.k with."

"What's he want from me?"

Hoss's head turns quickly, surveying the area around us. "I have no f.u.c.kin' idea other than you f.u.c.ked up last night."

"I wasn't working for the club when it happened. I was on my own time."

"You f.u.c.ked up," he repeats with a carefully measured tone. "And now you need to apologize."

"Right," I confirm, still not understanding my purpose in meeting Viktor but sure as f.u.c.k welcoming it nonetheless.

"Go on out and take care of the girls. I'll see you after you're done with Viktor."

"See you then," I answer to Hoss' back.

Hoss walks away and pa.s.ses Cilas as he instructs him to follow. Cilas cuts me a glare and I remain sitting quietly as I take in the sight of all the debris from the broken chair.

Hoss didn't even f.u.c.king notice.

After finis.h.i.+ng the check of the women inside each room, I make my way to Casey's. My heart is heavy with antic.i.p.ation, both praying she's still there and also hoping she's as I left her before-still as safe as she can be and definitely untouched.

Before making my way inside her door, I notice it's open. The vague voice talking from inside sounds familiar. The words spewing from that mouth make my blood run thick through my veins and causes a fury so deep that even with all I've seen in this place already, I hadn't thought it possible.

"You're no different than me." A pause as the woman clears her throat and sets something down on Casey's desk; its echo sounds like gla.s.s. .h.i.tting wood. "When you're ready, he's going to sell you. Viktor will throw you away for money. A girl like you, still sweet and underdeveloped, will go first."

I don't hear any response, so I a.s.sume the person talking is saying it directly to Casey.

"I thought about leaving here, ya know?" she continues, now sounding bored. "But where would I go with a b.a.s.t.a.r.d child whose father wanted nothing to do with her?"

Jesus Christ.

"Hangar wants you, but Viktor would kill him if he ruined you. Someone's gonna get to you, though. You'll see. Then you'll regret being such a filthy brat to me all these years." The voice stops and the gla.s.s. .h.i.ts the table again, sounding as though she stopped for a drink. "You think I was a bad mother? Ha! Wait 'til some big, fat man puts his hands to you. You'll scream my name, but I won't come."

Hearing Casey's heavy sob escape her, I act quickly and throw the door open to its fullest extent. I step in and see the world's worst mother staring back at me with a scowl crude enough to match my own.

"Dee Dee," I seethe her name as viciously as I can. It helps release my tension in wanting to backslap her. "What the f.u.c.k are you doin' in here?"

"M-Max?" she stutters, dropping her arms as she takes a small step away from Casey.

It's a fair a.s.sumption she had her filthy f.u.c.king hands on her, and Casey confirms once she sets her free. She looks from her mother to me before scurrying to her bed, sitting up in the corner and drawing her knees to her chest.

"Askin' again, woman. What the f.u.c.k are you doing in here?"

Walking toward me, with her body languid and unhurried, Dee Dee speaks softly, almost reminiscent; a clear contrast to her hated words of resentment moments before, which were aimed toward her own daughter. "I never thought I'd see you again."

Leaning against the door jamb, blocking her way out, I state again to keep it simple. I want an answer. "This doesn't tell me why you're here."

She snaps, holding the key to Casey's room out in front of her. "I came to visit my daughter."

Without giving her a chance to put it away, I grab it from her fingers, pocket it, and say in a clipped tone, "Get out. She needs to rest, and you don't need to be here."

Dee Dee's eyes grow wide as she stares at the pocket of my jeans. I have no idea-other than she's Casey's mother-why she would ever have rights to a f.u.c.king key. I don't contemplate long as Dee Dee starts laughing herself into hysterics while my own eyes widen in response. She holds her stomach and wipes her well-bruised eye.

By the look of her battered face, I'd say Hangar must've taken his hands to her recently.

She regroups her composure before asking, "And what do you care about this little one?" Looking back at Casey, she asks the more ridiculous question, "Is she what you're saving your pennies for? A little girl for sale?"

"Dee Dee." I say her name in warning, attempting to pull her away from whatever she's intending to insinuate.

I find she's too far gone when she continues. "You like little girls, Max. I should've known, considering the way you always used to look at Emma."

"Shut your mouth and get out."

I can't see Casey from behind me, but Dee Dee can. She twists her body around my frame and talks to Casey directly. "Casey, honey. You remember your sweet Aunt Emma?" she asks. Casey says nothing, so Dee Dee keeps going. "She didn't want you, either."

"Shut up," I counter quickly.

Looking at her fingers, Dee Dee picks at the nails with nervous tension. "I saw your dad in town," she informs. "He looked like a broken father who lost his daughter."

Her rude accusation is easy to ignore, being that it comes from a piece of s.h.i.+t. "You don't know anything about my family."

When she moves forward, closing the distance between us, I smell her breath and my eyes move to the drink she had set on Casey's desk. It smells of tequila and a f.u.c.k lot of it.

"I missed you when you left," she confesses with a swift mood change. "I thought you'd come back. You never did."

"No, Dee Dee. I didn't think there was much to come back for."

Ignoring my attempt to insult her, she turns her body in Casey's directions and starts to make a move toward her. I reach out for her arm, moving quickly and grabbing a hold of her with more force than I had intended. Slamming her against the cement wall near the door, I hear Casey yelp in surprise as Dee Dee's head snaps back, hitting the concrete with brutal force.

I've never man-handled a woman. I've never had a reason. Dee Dee isn't a woman, though. Instead, I consider her to be no more than the filth of the earth's surface, a pillar of bad parenting, and a lowly excuse for a human being.

My arm holds tight against her throat and with great effort, I resist my desire to permanently cut off all oxygen to her used-up, dried-out, rarely used brain. Casey's whimper in plea is what probably saves her life.

"If you ever lay another hand on her, Dee Dee, I will kill you slowly and painfully. Do you understand?"

Her eyes, now back to being wide and alert, look frightened for the first time since I walked in here. Her body, tense and rigid, remains still and her breathing, now staggered, starts to slowly even out.

Pus.h.i.+ng harder on her throat, I demand, "Tell me you hear what I'm sayin' to you."

"I hear you," she finally whispers in response. Looking into her eyes now, I find they're dead and void of any human connection.

I ease up on her throat and drop my arms to my side, but still block her way so she can't get to Casey.

Rubbing her neck, she talks quietly. "You shouldn't have left. I would've given you a life, Max."

"Something like this one?" I ask, stretching my arms out to the room. My tone can't be mistaken for anything other than fury and disgust for the woman in front of me. "You've raised your kid in a club full of men who, at any time, could hurt her."

"Max..." she tries to stop me, but I keep going.

"You're nothing, Dee Dee. Nothing to the club, nothing to these men, and sure as f.u.c.k nothing to your daughter. Nothing. What the f.u.c.k is it about this life you're hoping to get?"

"You don't understand," she responds with petulance and looks away from me to the ground.

"f.u.c.k that bulls.h.i.+t. I do understand. You always were self-serving. After I left, that changed. You're also self-destructing."

"I'm not. This is what my life came to when I figured out you were never coming back."

Taking a breath, I explain what I know I shouldn't have to. "We make our own paths, Dee Dee. You did this, no one else."

"She did this to me," she returns, pointing to Casey.

Leaning in, I get in her face, close enough I'm able to ensure she's listening. "Not another f.u.c.kin' hand touches her. Not yours, not Hangar's, not Hoss."

"Right," she a.s.sures, but it can't be believed. Dee Dee is too far gone. "I've gotta go," she tells the room as she walks toward the door in no rush.

I don't give her the satisfaction of saying anything more than, "You do that."

Once she's gone, I grab the handle to the door and shut her out with a slam. I listen, though, as she continues to raise her voice and talk all the way down the hall. Her ramblings include exacting revenge, my body parts being ripped from my body, and somehow Hangar is going to do it himself.

Right.

Breathing a sigh in relief now that she's gone, I turn to the room and find Casey still crouched in the corner of her bed. Her back is leaning on the cement wall behind her, her knees still drawn into her chest. Her eyes are closed, her hands cover her ears, and she's rocking quickly back and forth.

"Casey?" I call, loud enough for her to hear me.