Jett
“Back room, now!” I growled at Luke right as I walked into the open bay of the garage.
He chuckled. The douchebag actually had the nerve to laugh at me.
“I am not kidding, fucker. Get your ass in the back room,” I howled. Every stomp of his boots made me want to rip his throat out. It’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission, but I had my damn orders.
“What’s this about, Jett?” Luke’s hands flew into the air when I got within a foot of him.
“You know.”
Grabbing him by the collar of his cut, I shoved him into the back room right behind us.
“I didn’t do nothing to that b-broad that she wasn’t a-asking for,” he stammered, shaking in his boots.
“That’s not the word on the street,brother.” I let the word poison the air around us, settling into my veins like venom.
Brother—the most respect we could give to one another, letting each of us know we weren’t just members of the same club—we were family. He didn’t deserve the title. Not anymore.
“Jett, come on. After everything we have been through together, you know I wouldn’t be dumb enough to…” He trailed off like the piece of shit that he was. He knew there wasn’t a point to his groveling, his pleading, his sorry excuse of an explanation. I was the wrong motherfucker to play that game with. I had fought too hard and for too long to let someone try to pull the wool over my eyes.
I forced him down onto a rickety barstool in the corner facing the wall then forcefully ripped off his cut. After hanging it on the hook on the back of the door, I glared at his back.
“Is this really necessary?” he stuttered.
“Yes.”
“Why’d they send you?”
“You know why.”
“Are you going to kill me?”
“Not yet.”
Maccon had said I was allowed to scare him. Hopefully, it was working.
“Come on, man. You don’t have to do this.”
“Why don’t you make this easier on the both of us and just shut the fuck up.”
I pulled the knife out of its sheath in my boot, letting the cold metal rest against the back of his neck.
“Come on, man. There’s no need for all that,” he whimpered, trying to flinch away from my blade.
“The more you move, the more likely it is that the edge will filet you open right here.”
* * *
We satin silence for at least an hour. Finally, the door flew open and Maccon burst in.
“You stay there,” Maccon growled at Luke.
When he pulled me into the garage, I was met with all of the other high-up guys from the club along with Wyatt.
“Well?” I asked.
“The vote was unanimous. He’s being stripped of his patch.” A sinister simper spread on Maccon’s gruff face as his words sang a beautiful song.