Page 16

TICK TOCK

E ach day dragged by like a goddamn eternity, every hour feeling longer than the last, and still, there was no word from Barrel. Not a call. Not a whisper. Just silence where his presence should have been.

I paced the length of my room, my cut tossed over the back of the chair, my fists clenching and unclenching at my sides, every muscle in my body strung tight. The air in the clubhouse was getting heavier, thicker with bullshit I could smell coming a mile off. Tensions were rising between the members. There were whispers, side-eyes, too many late-night meetings that didn’t feel right. And I knew it wasn’t just my paranoia talking.

It was Rancid.

That piece of shit, cocky son of a bitch wasn’t just a problem. He was a goddamn cancer eating his way through our club. Little by little, he’d gathered the weak-minded, the restless, the ones too blind to see the knife he’d already sharpened behind their backs. Acting like the patch was his birthright, like the seat at the head of the table was already warm for him. He was fucking with the wrong member.

Recently he’d been circling Natalia like a goddamn vulture, getting bolder every time he caught her walking by. His eyes lingered too long. His smile curled too wide. And me? I was two seconds from giving him the bullet he’d been begging for.

But I held back for her because I knew deep down, if I let my temper off the leash now, if I let that violence loose the way my body was asking me to, one of us wasn’t walking out of here alive.

I leaned against the doorframe, watching her from the shadows as she cleaned up for the night. The clubhouse had two floors. The living quarters upstairs and the common area and bar below. Barrel’s room was perched up top with the perfect view of the entire open floor, a vantage point meant for keeping watch. I liked to keep myself tucked away in the dark, while he always knew who was comin’ and going.

Downstairs, the bar was quiet. The tables wiped down, chairs flipped, bottles lined up neat behind the counter like nothing had ever gone wrong inside these walls. She moved soft and quiet, humming under her breath as she worked, her hair tied up, her curves wrapped tight in those jeans that made it impossible for a man to think straight.

I should have moved. Should have told her to get to bed.

But I waited.

And that’s when the bastard showed up.

Rancid, drunk off his ass, stumbling in from whatever hole he’d crawled out of, leering like the piece of shit he was. His eyes locked on her, and I saw that smile he gave her. Wide, mean, and cynical. The kind of smile that promised bad things.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he slurred, swaggering up to the bar, leaning his weight into the counter. “Ain’t you just the prettiest little piece of ass we got in here?”

She stiffened, her back straightening, polite but distant. “Kitchen’s closed.”

“Aw, come on now, baby girl. Don’t be like that.” He reached out, brushed his fingers against her arm as she passed.

The second his hand touched her, I was on my feet. But I didn’t make a move. Not yet.

I watched.

I waited.

“Rancid,” she warned, stepping away, but the asshole followed, trailing after her like a damn predator as she carried the last of the kitchen rags toward the supply closet.

He didn’t listen.

Didn’t care.

“Come on, baby,” he purred, his voice turning slick. “I been real patient. Thought maybe you and me could get to know each other a little better.”

She turned down the hallway, her pace quickening, but I caught the shift in her body, the slight tension, the way her shoulders curled in tight. She was scared.

And when I heard her voice crack as she snapped, “Back off, Rancid,” I was done waiting.

I moved fast, stalking down the hallway, my boots heavy on the wood floor.

“I said back the fuck off,” she shouted again, and that was the last goddamn straw.

Rancid had her cornered, his hand reaching for her waist, that shit-eating grin still plastered on his face.

I grabbed him by the collar and ripped him back hard, slamming him into the wall so hard the drywall cracked.

“You dumb motherfucker,” I snarled, my fist already cocked back, slamming straight into his jaw. The crack of it echoed through the hallway, loud as a shotgun blast.

Rancid stumbled, but he swung back, his punch wild, grazing my cheek as I drove my knee into his ribs.

“Touch her again, you piece of shit, and I’ll bury you right here,” I growled, shoving him against the wall, my knuckles aching to keep going.

Chairs scraped, bottles clattered to the ground as he lunged at me, the two of us crashing into the bar, knocking over stools, knocking tables sideways as we threw punches, grunting, cursing, neither of us holding back.

“Stop!” Natalia’s voice rang out, sharp and scared, but I couldn’t stop. I wasn’t fucking done.

That’s when Saddle stormed in, his boots pounding heavily across the floor. “Enough!”

He grabbed Rancid by the back of his cut, yanking him away from me. “Natalia,” Saddle barked, his voice softer when he turned to her, “Go to your room. Lock the door.”

She didn’t argue. She knew better. She was gone in a second, and I was glad, because I didn’t want her to see what was about to happen.

Saddle shoved Rancid back hard, glaring down at him. “You’re drunk, asshole. And if you’re smart, you’ll walk your sorry ass outta here before Tick Tock puts a bullet in your skull.”

Rancid wiped the blood from his mouth, his eyes burning with hate. “When I’m president, I’m gonna kill both of you.”

Saddle snorted. “You’re not even close, you dumb fuck. But keep running that mouth, and you won’t live long enough to find out.”

"Fuck you," he seethed, stumbling around tables as he headed out the front door.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Saddle turned that hard stare on me. “What the fuck, Tick? You lose your goddamn mind?”

I didn’t say anything. My fists were still clenched, my jaw tight enough to crack teeth.

Saddle shook his head, muttering. “Don’t think I don’t see the way you look at that girl. You’re gonna get yourself killed. Hell, you’re gonna get her killed.”

“Stay the fuck out of it,” I snapped.

He glared back at me, but didn’t push it. “Get your head on straight, brother. Or somebody’s gonna end up dead.”

I didn't need the chiding. I was done with the shit show, and I stormed off down the hall, my blood still boiling, my fists aching for more.

I was done babysitting.

Done hiding.

If that bastard so much as breathed wrong near Natalia again, I wasn’t going to stop at one punch. I’d put him down and make sure he never got back up.

I slammed my door shut behind me, my head pounding, the rage still curling hot in my chest. I tossed my gun on the nightstand, stripped out of my shirt, and hit the bed, pissed, raw, restless.

But I wasn’t leaving her side.

I’d burn the whole fucking place down first.

Sleep came slow, my mind still running, my body was too wound up to rest. But hours later, when I felt the soft creak of my door opening, my hand reached instinctively beneath my pillow, gripping the handle of my piece.

The door clicked quietly shut, the lock sliding into place.

And then I smelled that soft sweetness of her.

Natalia.

She slid into my bed without a word, pressing her body close against mine, tucking herself beneath my arm seeking the safe place I knew she needed.

No words were said between us. Just the feel of her, warm and safe against me.

I wrapped my arms around her tight, breathing easier now that she was with me.

And that’s how we fell asleep. Wrapped up in each other, knowing this fight was only just beginning.