Making Choices (Black Shamrocks MC Book 2) (23 page)

After storming out on JJ, I headed back to the waiting room where we’d left everyone.

I needed to find out who’d opened their mouth and told her about fucking Amy. There were two choices—Mad Dog or Maddi, and my money was on Maddi trying to meddle.

Stalking into the waiting room, I found that everyone had fucked off.

Questioning the nurses, I was told that Joel was refusing to see anyone, and that the doctors were backing his choice due to his “fragile mental state”.

Little fucker was gonna be more than fragile when I finally got to speak to him alone.

Maddi, Mad Dog, and I have been trying to support him as he deals with his new disabilities. If he was at this point, he could’ve turned to any of us before he downed a bunch of fucking pills.

Everyone had heeded his wishes to be alone except Maddi, who was keeping vigil outside his room. Smoke and another of my Enforcers had been left behind to watch her.

Checking in with them, I was given a message that Mad Dog needed to see me ASAP, so my issues with JJ were shoved on the backburner.

Mad Dog had grabbed me the second I’d arrived back at the Compound, saying it was time to confront Beast about Cam and the other Mavericks being held in the bunker. Joel’s overdose had thrown a spanner in our earlier plan to challenge Beast once Mad Dog returned, but it was now time to get back on track.

“I think you’ll enjoy your surprise.” Mad Dog laughs, beckoning Beast to follow him.

His laughter jolts me out of my head and back into reality.

Fuck, I’ve gotta get back on top of my game. Nothing distracted me from my role in the Club before JJ. It’s a weakness I’m not thrilled with, a weakness that needs to be put to bed, once and for all. Once we fix her fascination with my past, and work past her objections to the Club, life will be sweet.

“You better not be wasting my fucking time. I’ve had a gutsful of you two and your shit today.”

“Whatever you say, Prez,” Mad Dog jokes.

He’s enjoying this a bit too much. I’m still not sold on the shit Cam’s trying to feed us, even if it’s not looking good.

This afternoon, Beast didn’t even blink when the three of us arrived at the Club with a disheveled Maddi in tow. He hadn’t seemed too concerned about what happened to her, scheduling her debrief for after Church tomorrow after he’d decided she wasn’t badly injured. Then he’d headed for his office and locked the door.

His lack of reaction was the final straw for many of our brothers—most of them pulling either Mad Dog or myself aside to comment on it.

It was a sure sign that shit’s about to hit the fan, in more ways than one.

Our bunker isn’t on the official architectural plans for the Clubhouse, having been built into the ground before the cement slab was laid. There’s one way in, and that’s through the hatch in the floor of the laundry.

The walk to the hatch is made in dead silence, waves of dislike flowing freely from Beast.

I can pinpoint the day that his attitude changed toward Mad Dog, however his dislike for me has been a gradual thing. My growing distrust of him has crept up on me, and I’m worried that the depth it’s grown to won’t allow me to trust him again.

That’s if he can explain what the fuck is going on with him and the Mavericks.

“You first.” Holding open the hatch door, Mad Dog gestures to Beast to lead the way down the stairs.

“Yeah, fuck that. After you,” Beast bites back.

The man is aptly named. He’s nearly as big as I am, his age not yet diminishing his build as it has some of the older brothers. He truly is a beast—physically and personality wise. A beast I’m not looking forward to fucking with tonight.

“The amount of trust you have in me warms my black heart,” Mad Dog quips, laughing.

He’s never been this openly antagonistic with Beast before.

It’s quite funny to see. It’s been a long time coming—he’s weathered shitloads of Beast’s bullshit over the last seven or so months.

I step forward to hold the door, and he descends, Beast on his heels.

Pulling the door shut, it’s my turn to laugh when Beast explodes into curses.

He’s obviously found his surprise.

Three Mavericks hang from the roof, Connor swinging next to them, and Wizard lies dead as a doornail on the floor. It’d been a snap decision to have the clean-up team bring his body back to the bunker—normally we would’ve fed him to the pigs immediately—but uncertainty forced our hand.

Once we make a decision, we can get rid of him in our usual way, or deliver him to the Mavericks as an official declaration of war.

“What’s the fucking meaning of this? I’ll have your fucking patch for this shit.”

I scramble down the stairs when a scuffle breaks out.

Hearing punches being thrown, I find Mad Dog jammed up against the wall by Beast.

He has him pinned with an arm across his chest, a forearm across his throat. Beast is breathing hard, while Mad Dog’s grinning like a fucking lunatic with blood running down his chin.

I know his capabilities. If Beast has him pinned, it’s only because he’s allowing it.

“I doubt you’ll be taking either of our patches unless you can come up with a good explanation for the shit Cam’s been telling us,” I tell Beast, jerking my head in Cam’s direction.

He’s been hanging from the roof down here for a few hours now.

Looking worse for wear, his eyes are barely open.

Being the caring men that we are, we’d sent Doc down to sew up the bullet wound in his thigh so he didn’t bleed to death. Can’t get answers from a dead man.

Twisting his head so he can eyeball me, Beast doesn’t loosen his hold on Mad Dog.

“I expected better from you, Timber. You’re not a fucking cowboy. This isn’t how this Club’s run.”

“How
is
the Club run?” Mad Dog pipes up. “Seems to us that you’ve dropped the fucking ball lately. Refusing to sanction payback for the shit that happened to
your
kids. Not bringing anything to the table to be voted on. Making deals with the fucking Mavericks behind the Club’s back.”

“Wouldn’t have a fucking clue what you’re talking about.”

At Beast’s denial, Mad Dog pushes against him, flipping their positions with ease.

Now Beast is the one pinned against the wall. He struggles to get free. But even with his height advantage and both hands wrapped around Mad Dog’s arm, he can’t dislodge him.

“So you didn’t make a deal that used Lainey as collateral? A deal that let Wizard use
my
woman to make a fucking alliance.”

With one final shove, Mad Dog lets go of Beast, grabbing him by the back of the neck and pointing him toward Wizard’s dead body. Beast recoils, panic flaring in his eyes as he takes in the dead body of the Mavericks’ President.

As quickly as the panic flares it dies, his expression filling with rage.

When he doesn’t deny the accusation, Mad Dog carries on. “You’re saying you didn’t make a deal that let Wizard fuck her up, and then pass her on to fucking Cam? Behind the Shamrock’s back.”

“Are you the one who killed him? You stupid son of a bitch. You’ve fucked up everything I’ve organized.”

Mad Dog shakes his head at him. It’s pretty fucking obvious one of us killed him. Who it was doesn’t matter at this point in time.

Mad Dog breaks into chuckles at Beast’s pointless questions. He’s trying to evade our questions with his own. His laughter must be the final straw for Beast.

Spinning, he punches Mad Dog in the mouth, knocking him on his ass.

“You have no fucking idea what you’ve done.”

I move forward to grab Beast, coming to a stop when Mad Dog bursts into manic laughter. He pauses to spit a mouthful of blood on the floor next to him before he laughs again.

“What I’ve done?” Mad Dog is incredulous. “I haven’t done a fucking thing. This is about what
you’ve
done.”

Beast shrugs, still not bothering to deny any of it.

Adrenaline courses through me, my body shaking.

Fuck me dead.

Pushing to his feet, Mad Dog stalks over and kicks Cam in the shin. He groans as the impact sets him swinging where he hangs from the roof. He’s barely able to lift his head, staring at us through one half-opened eye. Connor and the two other Mavericks aren’t in much better shape, all three of them glaring at us through similarly half-open eyes.

“Do you know why I killed Wizard? Why we brought these cockheads down here?” He points at a groggy Cam. “Why we brought this piece of shit here?”

“Doesn’t fucking matter why, you dumb cunt. You’ve just signed the death warrant of every one of your brothers. I told you to stay the fuck away from my daughter. You had your chance and you fucked it up. Every member of this Club is gonna pay for your stupidity.” His fury fills the bunker, and I rethink our decision to ambush him.

We should have done this in front of everyone.

Should have let them all see exactly the depths Beast has sunk to.

This is treason of epic proportions.
From the man I least expected it from.

“Cam and Wizard were trying to rape Lainey when we got there. Trying to fuck your daughter against her will. You know the one? The one who’s already been to hell and back?”

If I hadn’t grown up with Beast as a second father...if I hadn’t seen firsthand the love he had for all five of his kids, I wouldn’t have caught the brief flash of devastation that flitted across his features, momentarily breaking through the sanctimonious rage billowing from him.  

“I had to make a choice. Her, or my Club. Her, or my sons and my brothers. My life’s work, or my daughter. She’s already ruined, so—”

Beast doesn’t get to finish his excuses.

Mad Dog closes the distance between them with a lunge, growling like one of Satan’s hellhounds, when he grabs Beast by the throat and slams him into the concrete floor. They hit with a stomach-churning thud, Beast trying his best to defend himself, but he can’t.

Mad Dog has finally snapped, every ounce of anger and hurt that he’s swallowed down over the past six years surfacing at once.

I know I should break them up.

I should step in and wrestle my best friend off the man he’s revered as his mentor, but I don’t. I’m dumbfounded—fully fucked up—by what he just said.

I can’t defend a man who knowingly let his daughter fall into the hands of the devil.

Into the hands of our biggest enemy.

After all she’s survived, to then have her own fucking
father
say she’s ruined is fucked. I never understood why she didn’t go to Beast for help when she was first raped, never brought her explanation about everyone treating her differently or thinking she was less than she was, since I was always in awe of what she survived, however I now understand. She knew what he would really think, despite his public words to the contrary.

I hope she never has her suspicions confirmed since it would be the final blow for her.

Hearing Beast’s head cracks against the hard floor, I snap out of my stunned stupor.

Grasping Mad Dog by the back of his cut, I haul him off Beast’s almost prone body.

He’s still swinging furiously when I throw him on the bottom step of the stairway.

“Get a fucking hold of yourself!” I yell.

Eyes wild, pupils dilated—the black orbs that greet me are bleak and defeated.

He nods at me, my words belatedly registering, and drops his head into his hands.

Grabbing his hair in two fistfuls, he stares at the ground, panting hard, with blood dripping from his knuckles.

Dropping to my knees, I pull Beast into a sitting position.

He opens his eyes and stares at me, hatred shooting from them.

“Yeah, right back at ya, dickhead.” The words leave my mouth before I can stop them. “We’re taking this to Church. Right fucking now.”

I heave him to his feet and step under his arm so I can walk him out of here.

Mad Dog jumps to his feet in an effort to stop us from leaving.

“Come on, Mad Dog. You’ve gotta get your shit together, my brother. We can’t deal with this down here. It was a stupid fucking idea.”

Beast grunts. In agreement? Contempt? I wouldn’t have a clue, and I don’t give a shit.

He’s dead to me.

Mad Dog’s eyes widen. He’s ready to snap again.

“For once, will you fucking listen to me?” I ask him with angry heat in my voice.

I’m over this shit. I’ve more than likely got a kid on the way with a woman who thinks my Club’s too dangerous to be around. We need to sort this shit, and get back on our normal even keel before my life’s completely fucked.

“Get a grip on yourself. Help me get him out of here and in front of our brothers. We need to get to the fucking bottom of this shit and vote. The Mavericks aren’t going anywhere. We’ve got Connor to deal with. Fucking Sherry to find. A shitload of problems.”

Staring at me, defeat in his eyes, he eventually nods. “Let’s get this shit sorted. I’m fucking done with the lot of them.”

Together we half walk, half drag Beast up the stairs.

He’s in a world of hurt, barely putting up a fight.

Making our way back to the Clubhouse, we’re greeted with hostile looks, and shouted questions when the three of us stumble into the bar.

“I’m calling Church. All brothers are needed. If anyone’s missing, they have twenty fucking minutes to get their asses here. Shit’s gone down and needs to be dealt with now.”

Mad Dog makes his declaration, muttering breaking out as everyone takes in the fact that he’s ordering Church in front of a battered and bruised Beast. His red, bleeding knuckles are a dead giveaway that he’s responsible for his state.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Lenny asks sharply. He elbows his way through the crowd toward us. “What the fuck have you done to my brother? Why the fuck are you calling Church? It’s not your place.”

Pushing me out of the way, he takes Beasts weight, and helps him to the closest seat. Lenny is Beast’s older brother, the only real ally he has left in the Shamrocks.

“It’s real fucking simple,” Mad Dog answers Lenny, when he faces him with his hands on his hips. “I’m calling Church because I’m challenging for President. Beast is a traitor to the Club. A fucking traitor to his own family. I’m calling for his expulsion from the Black Shamrocks.”