Page 9 of Inglorious (Unwanted Bastards MC #1)

But if there were a small chance it did, if I could salvage what remained of the club and move us forward, I’d grab that chance with both hands.

Did I deserve it? Probably not. Was I going to fight for it?

Shit, I hoped so. Somewhere inside me was my strength.

It had currently deserted me, but it had to be hiding somewhere.

A coward was something nobody could call me.

Hell, the fact I attended every single funeral proved that, even if they weren’t my brothers.

Willow was the girl who nearly broke me.

The dignity and honour she’d shown Grey turned me inside out.

The grief on Willow’s face was soul-destroying.

Her expression showed everything I’d felt but couldn’t express.

Men don’t cry. That mantra had been drummed into me.

Real men don’t show grief or emotion or the fact that they’re screaming inside.

Bullshit. I’d experienced all of those but couldn’t express them.

Doc Paul entered and studied me. “You’re a mess.”

“Yup.” There was no point in disagreeing.

“What are you going to do? Hit the bottle or get help?” Doc Paul asked.

Whelp, there was no messing about there. “Get help, Doc. It’s going to be a struggle. Every time I close my eyes, I see their faces and bodies lying there. They’re haunting me.”

“Well, I’d haunt you too, if you’d dishonoured my memory like that.”

“Wow, Doc. Don’t hold back.” His words stung. Doc Paul might be right, but I didn’t want to hear it. No, I wanted to bury myself and my anguish in a bottle of cheap whiskey. The urge to do so was making me nearly crawl out of my skin.

“I won’t, Inglorious. Your brothers deserved better. Nanci is taking care of that. However, I will be around for a couple of weeks, and Nanci sabotaged me. I’ll knock you unconscious if I need to and drag you back here. Be warned,” Doc said.

Holy crap. What was with the hard knock lessons today? I didn’t like being sober because their words and actions hurt. Not as much as… my mind shied away from my deceased brothers. Not in time, though, and Psych’s face flashed into my mind; his expression filled with blame.

“Go shower, Inglorious, frankly, you stink, and I don’t need to smell it,” Doc said and opened the cell door.

“Yeah, it ain’t pleasant.”

“Inglorious, I know Nanci’s laid the law down. She’s as scared as you, and she’s sacrificing a lot. This wasn’t her role or her duty, but Nanci’s taken it on. You need to retake president.”

“I know what I need to do, Doc,” I snapped irritably. People needed to stop telling me the fuck what to do! I understood what was happening.

“Then do it. And by the way, Nanci has offered me a role in the inner circle as club medic. I’m considering it,” Doc Paul said, and I jolted.

“You’re Snake’s cousin. His Legacy.”

“Yup. And you’re shaming his memory. Inglorious, make no mistake, I’m firmly on Nanci’s side.”

“Seems every fucker is, including my own brothers.”

I stumbled out and headed to the clubhouse. I was shocked to see construction trucks and workmen going about their daily routines. Barging through the doors, I spotted Nanci standing at a table with Apache, looking at something. She was shaking her head and pointing at blueprints on the table.

Apache nodded beside her, agreeing with whatever she was saying. They glanced up, and Nanci sent me a warning look before dropping her gaze back to the plans. Apache looked shocked at my condition, but held his tongue.

“Inglorious, you have been moved into room twenty-four,” Nanci said, looking back up and holding my gaze.

“What the fuck? Mine is number one,” I snapped. My eyes flicked to the bar, and I almost tasted the liquor behind it. My skin crawled as if a thousand bugs were running over me.

“Eyes on me, not the booze! You have your first therapy appointment tomorrow and an AA meeting tonight. Room one is for the president. That’s not you. Your things were moved earlier this week. Room twenty-four,” Nanci stated, and I was shocked.

Fuck. The bitch had kicked me out of my room. It was the largest one, and the guys had insisted I had it as president. Back then, I’d not been too bothered. Now it was something to fight over. I opened my mouth to demand that Nanci give it back.

“Haven’t you shit to do? Like shower? Don’t stand there stinking up the common room. When you’ve showered, report back to me,” Nanci said before I could speak.

I felt like I’d been slapped. Nobody talked to me with such derision and distaste in their voice. I’d always commanded respect. Guess drunks don’t get that.

Without a word but anger burning deep inside, I headed out. Chill’s wide eyes caught my gazed, and I sent him a furious look. Chill should have come to my aid and supported me. Fuckin’ traitor.

This was my MC, and they’d all soon remember that.

Nanci

Apache stared at me in shock.

“What?” I asked.

“Can’t believe you just busted Inglorious’s balls like that in public.”

“Apache, I’m president. Are you telling me Drake wouldn’t do similar?” I retorted.

“Probably, but Inglorious holds a lot of respect. Don’t push him too far,” Apache warned.

“Or what? He’ll hit the bottle again? Apache, Inglorious disrespected all of those who died. I’m having to give up my apartment, which I love, my job as a headlining act, and sell my very lucrative business. Why the fuck should I give Inglorious any courtesy or respect?”

“Shit, Nanci, why are you doing that?” Apache demanded.

“How long before Inglorious falls into a bottle? I can’t leave Seth’s legacy like this.

He died for this club and that damn war.

That asshole needs a year to sober up. And even if Inglorious gets sober earlier, I can’t trust him not to fall back into the bottle.

My life in Vegas is done for the next couple of years.

And after six months, I’ll no longer be relevant as a headliner. ”

“Shit,” Apache repeated.

“Yeah. Life sucks. So, I won’t treat the bastard who’s just upended my life with respect because he can’t cope with reality.”

“Ouch. Just remember, Inglorious loved them, Nanci, like you did, and he is filled with guilt.”

“You know something, Apache? Guilt is a useless emotion. It doesn’t do anyone any good. Feeling guilt means nothing. Actions mean more to me right now.”

Apache nodded. “Let’s finalise this then, shall we?”

“Yup.”

Inglorious

Fuck, a shower felt good. No way I’d wear those clothes again.

I’d get a prospect to burn them. I shoved them into a bag and looked around my new room before washing my hands again.

Who knew what had been living in those clothes?

I shuddered at the state of them and tied the bag up to hide the stench.

Opening the built-in closet door, I discovered all my clothes neatly hung up. I yanked on jeans and a tee before reaching for my cut. Shock hit me all over again when I saw the president’s patch had been removed. Fuck. I’d bled for the right to be called that, and now I’d lost it.

Grumpy and depressed, I headed out carrying the bag, which continued to abuse my nostrils. As I entered the common room, I saw King heading towards me. I tossed the bag at him.

“Burn that,” I ordered.

King sent me a startled look.

“Burn it yourself. King is a brother, not a prospect, and therefore doesn’t take orders from you,” Nanci said from behind me.

Angrily, I turned around, ready to fight her. Apache straightened beside her, reading my mood. Nanci, however, boldly faced off against me.

“Don’t push me!” I warned.

“Or what? You’ve no power here, Inglorious.

I told you that you were on scut work, and it seems you’ve ignored that already.

So, I’ll repeat it. There are no prospects until I recruit.

Which means you’ll pick up their duties.

Take that bag and burn the fucker. Then get back in here, you’re painting my new room today,” Nanci said.

To my utter disbelief, Nanci turned her back on me, completely unconcerned.

“You gonna stand by while such disrespect is shown?” I demanded, spotting Chill.

“Yeah, because we both deserve it. Deep down, you know that, too. Just… I don’t know… go with the flow.”

“Go with the flow,” I bitched as I marched out. I headed round back and found a trash can, shoved the bag inside, and set the damn thing on fire. My eyes watered at the fumes, but half an hour later, there was nothing left. Just like my life.

Nanci was waiting when I returned. Apache was gone, probably around still, but no longer at her side.

“I want you to paint my room. The tins inside are for it,” she said.

“Want me to kiss your feet while you’re at it?” I demanded. Chill and King stared, and I held their gazes before turning a sneer on Nanci.

“Not yet. That might come later. Inglorious, you’re spoiling for a fight. You want to let off steam, face Vortex in the ring later. Now go and paint my room… please,” she said.

Unsure whether to bite Nanci’s head off, hit the bar, or sulk, I walked away, trying to keep my dignity intact.

Inwardly, I snorted to myself. What fuckin’ dignity? Alcohol and that miniature dictator wearing my patch had stripped it away from me. Nanci Rosky had become a ball-buster in the time since she’d been gone. And shit if it didn’t suit her!