Page 3 of Property of Stone (Kings of Anarchy MC: Pennsylvania #1)

Before he could finish, Stone’s fist said, “Hello, howya doin’?” to that big-ass nose and it exploded like an over-ripened tomato. Out loud, he answered, “Someone your own goddamn size.”

Unfortunately, Asshole, now holding his crushed nose, was still upright. Something needed to be done about that, since that wasn’t fucking acceptable.

Stone wiggled his fingers, trying to lure him out from between the vehicles and away from the woman and her son. But when Asshole didn’t move, Stone grabbed his shirt and yanked him off balance before throwing him to the pavement behind the Pilot.

Now he had a better view of the woman and saw she had been knocked the fuck out.

Stone’s narrowed gaze sliced back to Asshole and the world around him disappeared.

Once consumed by rage, he couldn’t easily turn it back off, and this jackass deserved everything dished out to him.

Since Stone had no medical training, he couldn’t help the woman, except in one way…revenge. And he’d be glad to dole it out.

He turned to see the man back on his feet and cursing him out, despite it being muffled due to his busted nose.

There was plenty more where that came from.

Stone stalked forward. “You feel like a goddamn man when you hit a woman?”

“She deserved it. She was trying to?—”

“Don’t give a fuck ‘bout your reason. Whatever it is, it ain’t fuckin’ valid.”

“Fuck you!”

One side of Stone’s mouth pulled up. “Ain’t gonna fuck you, but gonna fuck you up.”

“You do and?—”

He was tired of the bitch’s whining.

Stone’s fist automatically shot out and kissed Asshole’s mouth this time, causing his legs to fold like an accordion when he crumpled to the ground.

“Guess you don’t know how to duck and cover. Good for me, not good for you.” Stone leaned down and tipped his ear forward. “Got nothin’ to say now?”

A quick glance over at the still unconscious, bleeding woman and wailing kid brought a fresh wave of fury.

Grabbing Asshole’s shirt, he hauled his ass back up. “Can’t hit a man when he’s fuckin’ down, right? ”

As Stone released his shirt, a right fist to the side of the head had the man hitting the pavement hard.

What a fuckin’ pity.

But the fuck if he was done. This asshole needed a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget.

Stone drop-kicked him in the ribs the same way he did the woman. Except Asshole hadn’t been wearing heavy biker boots. His loafers didn’t have quite the same impact.

His boots were great for stomping on roaches, too. And he’d never seen a bigger one than the one sprawled at his feet. So, he crushed it under the sole of his boot. Just to be safe, he did it again.

And one more for shits and giggles.

Once his rage lessened and reality began to return, he noticed the groaning man’s head lolling back and forth. Asshole was bleeding from his nose, his mouth, even his ears.

Was he actually crying like a little bitch?

Now that was fucking embarrassing.

Bruises were already blooming on every inch of skin Stone could see not covered in blood.

Asshole’s eyes were swelling at a rapid rate.

One cheek was split wide open from Stone’s bulky rings and his lips wouldn’t be yelling shit for a good while.

He wouldn’t be able to breathe through his nose anytime soon, either.

The angle of his arm seemed to be a bit off, too.

Maybe Asshole was simply flexible.

Or maybe not.

“Hope you learned your fuckin’ lesson,” Stone growled and sucked a thick hocker from his nasal cavity into his mouth before spitting it on Asshole’s face. “That’s a little partin’ gift from me to you.”

Since Asshole was no longer an active threat, he didn’t give him another glance. Instead, Stone approached the boy sitting on the ground next to his mother, clinging to her limp hand. “You okay, kid?”

With tears and snot covering his red face, the kid could only hiccup in answer. Once the high-pitched wails started again, Stone winced. For fuck’s sake . He needed ear plugs. Or duct tape.

He squatted down and softly tapped the woman’s unbruised cheek. “You in there?”

He brushed a lock of hair off her forehead and checked her pulse. It was strong. She was simply knocked out.

Stone had been there, done that, and woke up with a massive splitting headache. He had no doubt she’d experience the same. Luckily, he couldn’t spot any broken bones. But that didn’t mean she didn’t have any.

“C’mon, wake the fuck up. Can’t leave you here like this. Can’t leave your kid alone.” He sighed. He needed to get the fuck out of there before the pigs showed up. He tapped her cheek more firmly this time. “C’mon, woman. Don’t got all fuckin’ day. Wake the fuck up.”

“M-m-mommy!” came another high-pitched wail.

At least her son could form words now. “Hey, kid, who’s that mother—” Fuck . “Man?”

“He…he…he’s my d-d-daddy.” Another snot bubble expanded before popping like a damn overfilled balloon.

Jesus fucking Christ. How did that kid have any tears left? Or snot?

“Y-y-you hurt…him.”

No shit. “Sorry, kid, but some lessons need to be learned the hard way.” He tapped the mother’s cheek again. “C’mon, woman, wake up.” Why did women have to be so damn stubborn?

He really needed to get the fuck out of there .

Finally, her eyes fluttered open but remained unfocused. She was still out of it. Maybe even had a concussion.

He stood and offered his hand but every time she tried to grab it, she missed. So, he hauled her up and onto her feet, keeping a hold of her when she wobbled slightly. He propped her up against her Honda, making sure she didn’t slide right back down into a heap.

“You okay?” He raked his gaze over her from top to toe. Blood soaked her blouse and her shorts. A sandal was missing and her sunglasses were gone.

She was going to have a hell of a shiner, a fat lip, and a couple of black eyes. Maybe even a few scars where her skin had split open. He was damn sure her ribs were at least bruised, if not broken.

She’d be hurting for a while. Most likely regretting her life choices. Like spitting out a nut nugget with a man who had no problem putting his hands on women. Especially the mother of his child. In front of the fucking kid, too. Couldn’t be more of a piece of shit than that.

“Mommy!”

She winced when her boy squeezed in between them and hugged her thigh. Of course, still goddamn crying.

She placed a shaky hand on his head. “It’s okay.”

It wasn’t. But if that was what the kid needed to hear to shut up, then whatever, lie to him. “Who’s the piece of shit?”

Her already swelling eyes, one of them even had a blood spot developing, fell on the crumpled, unconscious asshole. “My ex.”

“Why the fuck are you meetin’ your asshole ex here with no one watchin’ your fuckin’ back?” Or packing heat.

“We meet here every Friday afternoon to exchange our son.”

“Does it always go this fuckin’ smoothly? ”

She bared her teeth in a grimace. Yeah, he’d been there before. She had to be a fuckload of pain.

“I usually bring my mother. She’s been sick and I couldn’t find anyone else in time.”

“You let that abusive cocksucker take your kid?”

Her head jerked back, then she winced. “I don’t have a choice. It’s court-ordered.”

For fuck’s sake. What fucking kangaroo court allowed that? Asshole shouldn’t have visitations with a dead guppy that had been floating at the top of a fish bowl for the last thirty days, forget a living, breathing small human.

“You’re bleeding,” she whispered.

He glanced at his bloody knuckles. It was nothing. “Lot less than you.” He pulled a bandana from his back pocket and shoved it at her. “Here. Press this against…” Fuck. Her eye, her nose, her mouth; she was bleeding in too many damn places. She could choose where to use it.

She took it and when she pressed it against her nose, she hissed in pain.

“You need to get yourself checked out. Gonna be hurtin’ for a while. Now…it’s been fuckin’ fun but I gotta?—”

That was when he heard it.

The goddamn sirens. The squealing tires.

Christ.

Then he saw it.

The flashing pig party lights.

The one party he tried to never attend.

Too fucking late.

The three little pigs barreled toward him like he was the big, bad wolf and was about to blow down their fucking house.

He ground out another curse as the three cruisers parked a half circle behind Honda and Asshole’s cage .

As if on cue, all three driver’s doors opened and pigs from the local PD crouched behind them, using them as shields. All with guns drawn.

Of fuckin’ course. Fuck the tasers and go right for the kill shot.

“Turn around and lace your fingers behind your head!” shouted one uniformed oinker.

He set his jaw and contemplated his choices.

He could resist them, but that would only mean more time behind bars. Hard to help run a goddamn MC when you’re stuck inside.

Add in the fact the blonde and her son had already dealt with enough trauma for the day; they really didn’t need to see him get his ass kicked and dragged away.

For fuck’s sake.

“Turn around and lace your fingers behind your head! Do it now!”

He was tempted to ask them, “Or what?” but he already knew. He’d been through this shit before. More times than he could count.

“I’m sorry.” The woman’s whisper shook as badly as her hands. She was probably going into shock. “Is there anything I can do?”

Not unless she wanted to be cuffed and stuffed, too.

“Make sure you document what that motherfucker did and drag his ass back to court. Get a PFA for you and your kid.” Not that the Protection From Abuse order was worth the paper it was printed on, but at least this bullshit with her ex would be documented.

With his bandana still pressed to her nose, she nodded. “I will. Again, I’m sorry you had to get involved.”

“I’m not.” It went against his grain to turn his back on the three pigs with their guns trained on him. But he did it—for her—then slowly lifted his arms and interlaced his fingers behind his head.

“Walk backwards toward the sound of my voice. Don’t stop until I tell you.”

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Same old fucking song and dance.

He could do this routine in his sleep.

They continued to annoy the fuck out of him by shouting more orders until they had him face-planted on a pig-mobile’s hot hood and cuffed, searched, and divested of his knife, his keys, his chain wallet, his cell phone, and the remainder of the pre-rolled found stuffed deep in his front jeans pocket.

It was bullshit that any scratch made from the rides he took photos of today would now be used toward his defense fund.

He was damn sure that wouldn’t go over well with Ransom. In fact, the prez might let him rot in prison this time.

And Stone wouldn’t blame him one damn bit.