Bikers, Chains and Bad Boys

Chapter 23

Bikers, Chains and Bad Boys: Chapter 23

     I'd spent most of the morning avoiding as many club members as I could, hiding behind the bar with Red or in my room, arguing over the phone with Andy about coming into work. No matter how hard I tried, the stubborn brute wouldn't budge. I'd stooped as low as begging even, but the man had a heart of stone or something, telling me I needed to "sit the hell down and heal up before I got myself killed."

     The knife clanked loudly against the wall and I huffed, making my way over to pick them back up, before resuming my place and chucking it again. Since I wasn't allowed to work, I'd resorted to letting my anger out by throwing knives at the side of the clubhouse.

     I hadn't achieved much.

     I imagined each time I sent them flying at the wall, it was actually Snake and Tommy. I imagined the the knife was piercing them, stuck deep in their chests as their blood ran like rivers and painted their bodies red. The more I imagined it though, the more it turned my stomach – made me sick.

     A lump grew in my throat as I became angrier; throwing them harder and expelling my rage and hopelessness. I couldn't stop imagining it, though. No matter how much it made my skin crawl to think about lodging them deep in their chests; watching their blood run free and their eyes grow wide, blood dripping out the side of their mouths as they grew pale and lifeless–

     Out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone walking by as I threw the next knife and it slammed into the wall before falling to the gravel with a sharp ting.

     "You suck."

     "You blow." My eyes rolled at my knee-jerk reaction and I bent to grab the knives. When I turned to make my way back to my spot, my eyes roamed over Paul's smirking face and down to his cut-covered chest.

     First Corey and now Paul? Were the others planning to join the club, too? Tyson honestly didn't seem the type and I couldn't see Dustin joining a motorcycle club. Then again, he was a wild card and he'd be the type to do it for no reason at all.

     Scratch that. He'd do it for the ladies. Cue eye roll.

     Paul's cut had a member patch, though. He'd been a member this whole time and I hadn't noticed? I looked back up at Paul and raised a brow, turning once I'd reached my spot and chucked another knife at the wall. Thud.

     "Fuck, we gotta teach you everything, don't we?" He slid quickly to the side, chuckling as I aimed the next knife at him.

     "Fuck off."

     He retrieved it from the ground, along with the other one, and made his way over to me. "First off, don't flick your wrist."

     "I don't need your help." I sneered. It wasn't his fault I was angry, and he didn't deserve me acting like an asshole. I took a deep breath, attempting to expel the rage eating away at me. I was sad and hurt and it was making me angry and pissed off. I wanted to hit something, but this was as close as I was going to get with that. I don't have to admit it, but I could use some help. I wasn't getting anywhere like this and if I wanted this to be effective, I needed to accept his help.

     "Obviously, you do." He waved a hand at the general direction of the wall. He smirked, a gleam in his eye. "My turn to show you up."

     He turned to face the side of the building and threw it with a fluidity and grace I didn't think he was capable of, like it was natural. The blade embedded deeply into the worn wood with a hollow thud. He turned, smirking and ready to gloat. "Shut up."