Page 5 of Pink Poison (The Butchers MC #1)

Chapter three

Graves

Fuck!

I’m stuck standing like a fucking moron, forced to watch the woman who has captivated me for months disappear through the doors.

Fucking move your legs, you idiot.

My lips press together as a steady vibration from my cut distracts me long enough to let her walk away.

I pull my phone out seeing Mack flashing across my smudged screen.

Swiping the green symbol, I drag the device to my ear, only to be greeted with heavy breathing.

“What’s up, brother?” I ask, hoping to high hell this motherfucker doesn’t know where I am or who I’m with.

“Where are you, man? Shit’s turning sideways on the streets,” he says breathlessly.

Groaning, I walk back to my truck. Gangs have been the least of the MC’s worries until earlier this year.

Some pissant group who calls themselves the Priests have been causing issues all over the damn state.

We’ve had to deal with a few of them recently, masquerading around on their shitty crotch rockets like they own these streets.

“Graves, I said get back to the clubhouse, brother!”

“Alright, I’m on my way back. I just needed a breather.”

I end the call before he starts an inquisition.

Because he would, that’s just who Mack is.

He has to know everything, even when it’s detrimental to him.

It’s like he has perpetual fomo or some shit.

Opening the door to my truck, a flash of blonde hair headed toward an empty bus catches my attention.

I swallow harshly, fighting every urge to yell her name and beg for her to just come back with me. I’ll let her go, for now.

My hunk of shit truck jerks roughly as I pull it past the gates of The Deli.

Killing the engine, I snatch the keys from the ignition and push my tired body out of the cab before Mack gets too close.

I know I told Stephanie— Stevie —that I wanted him to smell her in there, but now isn’t the time. I’ll torture him with that shit later.

“We’ve been waiting for your sorry ass to get back here,” Prez snarls from the porch as he eyes me for any damage.

Kicking my boots across the pavement, I dip my head low to avoid any confrontation. We don’t need another fight brewing between the club. Whatever beef Mack has with me, we can settle on our own. “Sorry, Prez. I just needed a minute. ”

“Was you with her, that hot piece from Mo’s?” he asks, refusing to budge from the doorway.

So much for not starting any confrontation.

“Drove her outta town. Mack doesn’t need to be worried about his stepsister throwing her ass out for money.” I sigh. Guilt worms its way through my stomach, sloshing bile until it burns my throat. I really don’t like implying that she’s a whore when she’s not.

“Good thinkin’, kid.” He pats my shoulder. “Keep an eye on Mack. He’s gonna wanna keep pushin’ this whole thing. The club can’t handle that liability after pissin’ on Mo’s business.”

Nodding, I push past him. There’s a reason why he’s at the top of this club.

The man is a legend around here. He may be a peacemaker, but he’ll rally us like no tomorrow at the first whiff of trouble.

We handle our business, and only ours. It keeps our noses down and out of the PD’s way.

I have a lot of respect for Prez. Well, most of the time.

Even with his strong morals, he’s still behind on the times when it comes to women.

Maybe one day he’ll find one worth settling down for.

Yeah, when hell freezes over.

“Graves, you piece of shit,” Mack growls, charging across the floor.

Jesus. I should have just crashed somewhere for the night. I don’t have it in me to deal with anyone’s shit at the moment. “What now, Mack?”

His face is set, pinched with accusing intent. Grabbing the collar of my cut in each hand, he seethes, “Have you seen your fucking face?”

The previous bile stirs in my stomach again.

I knew damn well I shouldn’t have done anything with Stephanie, especially after finding out who the hell she was.

But a part of me, the part that spent the last few months with Stevie , needed tonight.

Call me a fucking sap, but I was falling in love with her.

It wasn’t just sex with her, although the sex was fucking phenomenal.

Unfortunately, it’s not like I can just say that to my best friend .

“I don’t know what you want, Mack.” I shrug. “I went and blew off some steam.”

His accusing expression transforms into pure, unadulterated rage.

If I thought he was pissed before, I was wrong.

His eyes glaze over before a solid hit smashes over my jaw, snapping my head to the side.

The familiar tang of copper floods my taste buds as my teeth cut into the soft flesh of my cheek.

Motherfucker. “Pink. Lipstick.” He shakes me violently. “ Her lipstick, you stupid prick!”

Groaning, I spit a glob of blood and saliva at his feet. “What of it, Junior?” I sneer. “She’s not a concern anymore.”

I feel the crushing weight of his hand wrapped around my throat before I can comprehend that the bastard is choking me. “She was mine! Mine .”

A satisfying smirk tugs at my mouth, distracting him from his unnecessary anger.

His hand drops quickly from my throat as he realizes that he just said the quiet part he kept to himself all these years out loud.

“Yours? That’s weird, I could have sworn she was mine when she was bouncing on my dick earlier. ”

Should I bait him like this? Probably not.

Do I care that I pissed him off? Not even a little.

“Fuck you, Graves. Stay away from her,” he snaps.

“Fine by me.” I shrug with a tired sigh. “I told you she’s not a concern anymore.”

He shakes his head as he steps back before turning on his heel, leaving me with a bruised cheek that will probably match my bruising nose from Stevie’s cheap shot. I trudge to the bar and take a seat on an empty stool at the end—far enough away from everyone else’s wary stares.

“You’re a dumbass, Graves,” Stone snorts, pulling a chair up next to mine. “No pussy is worth losing the trust of a brother.”

April, the club’s main bartender, slides a bottle of Jameson across the counter with a heated glare in my direction. “What kind of asshole fucks his best friend’s sister?” she snarks.

Uncorking the bottle pourer from the liquor, I bite back, “Which time? Before I realized who she was or after?”

Her features pinch at my response before she flips her dark hair over her shoulder and turns away from me. Whatever.

“Christ, Graves. That’s fucked up,” Stone reprimands

I tilt the bottle at him with a bitter salut on my tongue before sucking down a generous gulp. The burn soothes my frayed nerves enough to steal the tension from my neck. Setting the bottle back on the bar top, I sigh. “It doesn’t matter anymore. She’s gone.”

He lifts his dark, unkempt brow, signaling for me to add more context.

I don’t know why I want to tell him—there’s a good chance he’ll go tell Mack, and drag this shit out.

We all know Mack is petty enough to bring her ass back here just to knock her down until she can’t get back up.

It doesn’t matter that he’s just as infatuated with her as I am—his grudge runs blood deep.

“I got her out of the city. That’s all that matters. Stephanie is gone for good,” I admit.

That’s because Stephanie doesn’t exist anymore. It’s Stevie.

Fuck. I’m an asshole. There was no way I could miss how defeated she sounded when she said that shit. Like I was the one who killed what remained of her as Stephanie.

“Good,” he grunts with a jab to my shoulder. “I’m fucking beat, brother. I’ll see your sorry ass tomorrow.”

Bowing my head, I breathe harshly through my nose.

I don’t know how I’m going to fix this, but I know I have to.

I wasn’t bluffing when I said Stephanie wasn’t an issue.

As much as I could have fallen for her, loyalty means something to me.

Mack is my brother above all else. He doesn’t have many people to lean on, and I’ll be damned if I’m just another person who casts him aside.

Butchers ‘til the end. ‘Til we die.