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“Is that so? Might as well cut that supply off for you, then, and watch how that goes, huh?”

             
Jaxon didn’t respond. Remy had trapped him. Man was bluffing. Most of their income was coming from the Jackals, but Remy was bluffing too. The business arrangement between the two clubs was essential because the Scorpions owned most businesses in town now. Whatever they didn’t own, the Jackals did, but what they did own wasn’t enough to launder even a tenth of their illegal earnings.

             
“Now this is how it’s going to go,” Remy said, returning to his calm authoritative self. “You killed my brother, and if I retaliated like any other Jackal, your supply woulda been cut straight off and you’da been sinking in heavy waters. I woulda come for your ass, killed you and your fucking mother. That’s what any other man would have done. I’m showing your ass some undeserved mercy. You’re gonna leave her alone. She’s apart of us, always has been, and she’s gonna be mine--”

             
“Like hell she is! I saved her ass from your prick of a brother. He woulda put her in the ground and you know it!”

             
An uneasy feeling swarmed Remy’s chest at the thought of his birdy in the hands of his brother. Douchebag was right.

             
“If anyone’s in debt, it’s you,” Jaxon growled. “And if you were man enough, you’d be on this side of the fucking wall settling this like men. So come on, then! Get over here and we’ll see who has this!”

             
Remy smiled. “I don’t want to get covered in bruises. I got a lady to impress now.”

             
Yeah, that about did it. Jaxon detonated. Kicked the gates like a little kid, screaming his insults all the while knowing there was nothing he could do. Remy won this.

             
“She’ll be well taken care,” Remy said as he watched the douchebag get dragged away by his men.

             
Jaxon Barlow was officially broken. Mission accomplished. Remy smiled because he knew exactly what this would lead to.

*****

He hadn’t slept at all the rest of the night. He was in Rita’s room, packing a few outfits for Sara. Fuck, he’d be having a word to Rita about some of the shit she wore when she got back.
Slut.

             
He’d grabbed some essentials in the supply closet: toothbrush, soap, a girly looking bottle of shampoo, tampons and pads with wings on them or some bullshit like that. He went through Rita’s cupboards, packed away a comb, a straightener, some hair decorative shit that girls wore.

             
Sara was in her twenties. Girls in their twenties like pop music and romance movies, right? He went through his sister’s movies, pulling out ones that had kissing couples on the front. He read a few storylines as he went, and boy did they range from all kinds of ridiculous shit: rich, gorgeous men falling for poor, average girls; bad boys falling for good girls; fuck buddies that became more; crap about fate and star crossed lovers. Yada-too-good-to-be-true-shit-yada. No wonder women were never happy...

             
And music? He hadn’t a goddamn clue! He looked at all the names, not knowing where to even begin. After five homicidal minutes, he stuffed a handful of CDs that were vaguely familiar. Surely Sara listened to shit like Miley Papyrus and Lady Moomoo – or whatever the fuck they were called. Good enough for him.

             
It was eight in the morning when he finally headed out.

             
“You really serious about this?” asked Fritz just before he reached the door.

             
Remy stopped and looked over at the middle aged man. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

             
“Man killed your brother, and all you’re doing is stealing his woman. Is she really worth the cost of not being able to bury your brother and kill the dickhead that took him from you?”

             
Remy considered his words for a moment. Fritz loved violence, and he hated the Scorpions more than Remy did, which said a lot. He’d been itching to rile shit up between the gangs. Went on and on about how the town was only big enough for one. How they had the chance to reclaim their territory and get back what was rightfully theirs. While there was some logic in the man’s words, the destination of Remy’s thoughts always led back to those auburn eyes. He wanted her. He’d waited long enough. Damn straight she was worth it.

             
“Yeah,” he answered, conviction thick in his voice. “She is.”

             
If anything, he got the best end of the stick. Brett would have raped her. Would have probably killed her too just so it wouldn’t get back to the Scorpions. He’d pulled a knife on her. Had his hand wrapped around her neck. Sara told Remy everything. He’d have killed him too. But Jaxon doing it had presented the opportunity for a deal like this, and fate had grabbed Remy by the balls and screamed,
take it!

             
Now that’s a story that should be made into a romance movie if ever he heard one.

             
On his way to the bunker, he picked up breakfast and ordered all kinds of varieties of foods his birdy might like. He would learn all about her: her favourite breakfast; the music she listened to; her favourite genre of movies; whether she liked decorative shit in her hair; if her periods warranted pads with fucking wings on them...

             
He was going to learn it all. Every inch of her too.