Twisted Steel: An MC Anthology: Second Edition by Elizabeth Knox (top 5 ebook reader txt) 📕

work to take this job. You just gonna let one of your bitches rule? Ha! Weak.”

Bishop scoffed. There were certain things you never questioned. I couldn’t help but grin as he turned, the lights shining out from the clubhouse, highlighting the deviance in his eyes.

There was a reason he was our president.

Drew and Ian were already moving, ushering partygoers back inside, someone inside turning the music up a little louder, isolating the area we were standing in.

“Missy, go inside,” I ordered.

“But—”

“Inside. Someone will show you to my room.”

“Come on.” Blue pressed a hand to Missy’s back, a move that had my fists clenching at my sides. My brother caught the movement, the corner of his mouth curling as he directed her back toward the clubhouse. She pushed against him for a moment, her lips open just a breath.

I raised my eyebrows, daring her to fucking say something.

Missy finally pursed her lips.

She was smart.

Because she knew while this had started with her, it had now become a club matter.

And in that, she had no say.

“Weak?” Bishop chuckled, looking over his shoulder at me, his brow raised as if he was questioning whether he was really about to fucking do this and whether she was worth the shit he was about to stir. Gritting my teeth, I nodded, and he didn’t miss a beat. “He’s all fucking yours, Hawk.”

“We had a deal.”

“You put your hand on one of my girls.”

Not just anyone.

“She’s a fucking whor—”

It was almost as though my hand moved on its own, reaching for my gun from inside my club cut. My aim was perfect, though we were at almost point-blank range of the target. A mixture of Robert’s painful roar and the ground shaking when he landed, a bang rattled and echoed through the night air, bouncing off the buildings as it vibrated up and down the city streets. Robert sobbed, lighting up the night with cuss words and falling to his knees. His eyes were wide in horror as he held his hand out in front of him, a bloody hole in his palm.

I crouched, putting my face at his level. “I don’t give a shit if she’s your fucking mama,” I spat, my nose crinkling as I watched his blood spill onto the stones. “You don’t put your hands on a woman. Fucking. Ever. Especially not her,” I growled in disgust, having to fight the urge to keep from pulling the trigger again when I thought about the uneasy, pained look in Missy’s fucking eyes.

And this fucker was paying the price for putting it there.

I ignored Cain’s silent smirk as I pushed to my feet.

“Get him the hell out of my compound,” Bishop ordered, the arctic tone in his voice a sure signal he was ready to shove his gun up someone’s ass just to watch the bullets fly out their mouth if they didn’t move fast enough.

The four security guys left were clambering over each other to get to their buddy, who was now writhing and squirming like the fucking little worm he was, his buddies grabbing random limbs as they attempted to heave his fat ass toward their cars.

“I don’t think I need to tell you what will happen if this comes back to my club.”

The group paused, inhaling the warning, their faces paling.

It was clear.

Clearer than fucking clear.

Someone asks what happened, the answer was simple—the bastard tripped and fucking fell.

I didn’t feel a single ounce of regret. The asshole got exactly what he deserved. Who knew how many fucking women he’d treated like shit before this? Who the hell knew how he’d have treated the girls at Backroad—girls he was meant to be protecting. Maybe getting rid of him now actually saved someone’s life.

Thank fuck.

Bishop stepped up beside me, both of us staring back at the clubhouse and the party that seemed to be carrying on like normal. Like a guy hadn’t just been shot twenty feet away. “You’re gonna find me a new security team.”

“I’ll call in some nomads. Between them and us, we should be able to handle it for a few weeks.”

The boys at the club were busy.

We had other shit to do.

Other businesses to run, which was the point in hiring outside for security. Nomads were club members who didn’t call one place home. They traveled, going where they were needed, sometimes for days, for weeks, or even months.

I’d sort it.

I had to, given I’d just made an incredibly important decision.

“You sure she’s worth it?” Bishop questioned as we made our way back inside, apprehension furrowing his brow.

My eyes were drawn to the stairs at the end of the clubhouse. I didn’t live here all the time, choosing to stay in the house I grew up in for the most part, but I had a room here.

And I knew Blue had put her in it.

“You always told me I’d just know.”

When he heard those words, his response was simple. “Then you better go check on your girl.”

8 MISSY

My fingertips traced along the wall, scared that the pain might get worse, and I’d lose my footing.

The bedroom Blue had guided me into was sparse with nothing much other than a fluffy bed that looked like it’d been freshly made, a set of drawers, and a chair. Thankfully, it had a connecting bathroom because with each wave of pain, I wondered whether I was going to lose my dinner.

But more importantly than that, it had water.

I needed cold water.

That was what was going to soothe the burn.

At least I hoped.

I’d already stripped off my sky-high heels, refusing to also break my ankle tonight if I fell, but when I finally made it into the bathroom, I furiously tugged at the button on my shorts and ripped the zipper open.

I sucked in a deep breath, holding it captive in my lungs as I slowly attempted to slide them down my legs without having them brush against my thigh.

It was impossible.

“Fuck, fuck, FUCK!” I pressed the back of my hand