Braveheart growled as a loud clank came from the garage bay, and I grinned. “Well, now you see. You just insulted me and all my brothers.”
“He sure did, boss,” Braveheart said, slowly getting off his bike.
The fat fucker took a step back. “Don’ want no trouble. Just leave.”
“Wade?” I vaguely heard my name before I saw him stumble out of the bay, beaten black and blue, holding his ribs.
The second I laid eyes on him, I roared and tackled the fat fucker to the ground, punching the living shit out of him.As I rained down blow after blow, the fat fucker cowered and tried to shield himself. His bulk didn’t help him now as my punches connected with his face, turning it into a bloody mess. I could feel my brothers standing tall behind me, ready to back me up if needed. But this piece of trash was all mine. “Go help the kid!” Ishouted as I continued to show this piece of shit what a real man was capable of.
The fat fucker was sobbing now, and I could see the fear in his eyes, but I didn’t give a flying fuck. Grabbing the fucker by his dirty shirt, I seethed, “Why?”
“Ain’t gonna have no son of mine be a butt-fucker!” the bastard mumbled.
The fat fucker’s words hit me like a punch to the gut. I could feel my blood boiling, and I wanted to tear this man limb from limb. But something in me held back. I wanted answers. I wanted to know how a father could do this to his own flesh and blood.
“You beat your own son half to death because of who he loves?” I spat, my voice dripping with contempt.
“He ain’t no son a mine if he’s a fag!” the man snarled, his face twisted with hatred.
I reared back my hand and delivered one final blow, feeling the satisfying crunch of bone beneath my knuckles. The man howled in pain, his face a mask of blood and tears.
“Boss, we gotta get outta here,” Donut said, tugging at my sleeve.
I knew he was right. But as I looked at the crumpled form of the fat fucker, I knew this wasn’t over. “We’ll be seein’ you again, asshole,” I said, spitting on the ground. “And next time, it won’t just be my fist that does the talkin’.”
With one last glare, I turned and walked away, my brothers falling in line behind me as I walked over to Eliot. Carefully cupping his face in my hands, I asked, “Can you ride?”
Eliot slowly nodded as I grabbed him and hugged him. After a few seconds, I let him go and mounted my bike. “Climb on, Eliot.”
The second he was secure behind me, my brothers and I roared off, knowing I did the right thing.
Eliot was one of us now, and no one would hurt him again.
Chapter Thirty
“Bar’s closed!” Juju shouted firmly, pocketing his phone as he, Thore, and Worm worked fast to clear all the patrons and tourists from the bar. The second the bar was empty, Thore locked the front doors, just as Wade walked in from the kitchen carrying a severely beaten young man.
“Juju, get your kit!” he said, laying the young man on top of the bar as the man ran from the room.
Rushing over to them, I gasped. “What happened?”
“His father beat the shit out of him,” Donut sneered, his body shaking with fury. I’d never seen Donut so angry before.
Hell, I didn’t know he could get angry.
Stepping back, I watched as Juju returned with his kit—a tattered old bag filled with enough medical supplies to rival a paramedic’s stash. He worked quickly, his hands steady as he cleaned the young man’s wounds, stitching where necessary and carefully bandaging the worst of the damage. The room was heavy with tension, each of the men simmering with unspoken anger as Wade asked, “Why were you there, Eliot?”
Eliot winced, his voice trembling as he continued, “Little sister. Scared. Dad’s a mean drunk.”
Juju paused mid-stitch, his sharp gaze locking onto mine. “Sister?”
“Shit,” Wade cursed, turning to Braveheart and Thore. “Go back there and tear that fucking place apart. Find her!”
Both men rushed out of the bar.
“Wade, he needs a hospital,” I said cautiously. I’d never seen Wade like this before. Or any of the brothers, for that matter. The tension was high, and I was afraid anything could set them off.
The sound of motorcycles roaring to life outside punctuated the thick silence inside the bar. Juju kept working, his hands moving with precision as beads of sweat formed on his brow. Eliot’s breathing grew steadier, though his eyes darted nervously toward the door.
