Page 5 of Property of Fang
Fuck knows how many. But stolen from their lives and held here, in Temperance, under our goddamn noses. As though the Devil’s Breed wants to bait the bear. Waiting to see how long it is until we bite.
I snarl at the paltry drag or two left on the cigarette and then flick it out into the center of the yard to burn out amidst the dying dusk light. Picking up the habit again won’t help anything; it’ll only make me feel as though I have something to do with myhands. Quiet the rage that pulls tight in my forearms, forcing my fingers to curl into fists to shake the itch to hold something.
Fire something.
I might not have the best track record with women; I avoid serious relationships like it’s an Olympic sport. But I’ve never raised a hand to one.
Never made her do something she didn’t want to.
Never cussed her out for changing her mind.
Saw enough wrongs being done in my father’s time at the club to convince me that if nothing else, I would never turn out like them. Arrogant. Entitled. Controlling. Hiding their narcissism and insecurity under the pretense of masculinity.
Instead, I hid it behind a mask of indifference and cool aloofness that did just as much damage. If not more.
And then I went and had a daughter, and all those feelings amplified.What if it had been her?What if she grows up to attract the attention of pigs like the Devil’s Breed? How can I ever keep her safe enough?
Fuck it.I tug the pack out of my chest pocket and shake out another stick. The sooner they’re gone, the sooner the temptation ceases to exist. At least, that’s what I tell myself as I bring the flame to the end of the cigarette, the crackle preceding the sweet smell of freshly lit tobacco.
The light catches on something in my periphery.
A face.
“Fuck!” I shake the lighter to kill the flame and flip the lid closed, taking a step back as I do. “You got a reason to sneak up on me like that?”
Circus grins, the tips of his canines shining in the light that spills through the clubhouse windows. I thought he was crazy when he showed me a picture of what he wanted done, but when he got back after several hours at the dentist, several thousand dollars lighter in his back pocket, I understood it.
Pointed gold canines aren’t for everyone, but considering the man has tattooed eyeballs and enormous lettering inked across his brow, weird teeth are the least of his problems.
“What were you up to?”
He steps onto the porch and draws a deep breath, only to exhale it slowly. Our Road Captain chooses not to say much, but it doesn’t stop me from coaxing him into conversation every chance I get. “Cleaning.”
I school my features, stunned that he chose to play. “The meat safe?”
He nods.
You can’t accuse the guy of not being thorough. Our President, Chaos, shot and killed a member of the Devil’s Breed after we found them doing business on our turf. Fast-forward a week, and it’s like the rival club member never existed, save for the fact we’ve lost one of our own to the big house while he awaits trial for the murder.
“Disappointed you’re not being let out to play tonight?”
Circus slides his black eyes my way. One side of his mouth curls up.Yeah.I know why Chaos didn’t add him to the manifest. If we find women there, we want them to come with us, not run screaming for the hills.
I turn to face him and lean an elbow on the railing. “It’s one of life’s greatest mysteries,” I muse with a shake of my head. “What the fuck happened to you to make you into this?” I wave my hand at the length of him. “Not that I’m complaining. You’re a unique asset. But Jesus, my man.” I let out a low whistle. “Sometimes I envy how you can move through the shadows without anyone knowing you’re there.”
He tilts his head to one side and then folds his arms while he studies me.
We couldn’t be more different if you tried. He’s the center-spread of an alternative tattoo magazine, the kind of guy you seeon the thumbnail for a horror movie, while I’m the man who smiles down at the world from a mainstream billboard. He loves the anonymity of his life, and I thrive on the attention of mine.
He’s one hundred per cent comfortable with who he is, creating a character that ensures his isolation.
I mask the truth behind my false ego and need for validation.
His gaze shifts over my shoulder to a beaten-up, pale blue hatchback tearing up the long driveway. Mud and stones spray out behind it, the single working headlight cutting lines across the tracks ahead.Fuck.
Circus settles in, leaning a shoulder against the porch post to watch the show.
The car’s barely pulled in before I’m off the steps and striding toward it. “You better not be driving like that with our daughter in the car.”
