They weren’t called the Knights of Wrath for nothing, after all.
“Oh, there’s Wanda,” Crystal says, pointing to the red convertible that pulls up to the curb.
“Thank you again for this,” I tell her.
She waves and says, “Just call when you’re done, and we’ll meet you here.”
“Okay,” I agree.
“Be careful!” she calls out before disappearing into the passenger seat.
I didn’t think the other girls liked me, especially Crystal, but maybe the near-death experience from the other night has brought everyone closer.
If they found out that I knew what was going to happen, I would probably be beaten bloody by all of the catty girls, and again, I would deserve nothing less.
Wirth
“You okay, man?” Malcolm asks when I show up at the pool hall, still fucking furious.
I look at the man who has been one of my best friends for years now, gauze covering the wound on his shoulder, and realize how close we were to losing him. If he hadn’t dragged Naomi to the floor when he did, the bullet would’ve struck him in his head.
And Maeve knew what the Irish were going to do but did nothing to stop it. No, she was so unconcerned that she fucked me while it was happening.
Now I can’t keep that shit to myself a second longer. I have proof – the man who was at Maeve’s was with those assholes at the Irish pub.
“It was the Irish,” I tell Malcolm. “They’re the ones who shot up the Knights’ bar.”
Narrowing his eyes, he asks, “How can you be so sure?”
Shit. No matter how angry I am at Maeve, I still don’t feel right dragging her into the middle of things. The guys will hurt her. They wouldn’t normally touch a woman, but when she nearly cost three of them their lives and put more at risk – like Malcolm’s woman, the mother of his child – they won’t care about her gender.
So, I come up with another lie, one to protect her, for whatever reason.
“I was driving around last night and this morning and ended up in Wilmington,” I admit.
“You shouldn’t have gone alone,” Malcolm grunts.
“I know, but I couldn’t sleep, and there I was, outside the Irish pub. One of the cars had bullet holes in it and busted windows.”
“No shit?” he says. “You’re certain.”
“I’m pretty damn sure it was the Irish.”
He nods and then runs his fingers through the front of his long brown hair. “The Knights haven’t been able to come up with any names of who else might’ve come after them. It had to have been the Irish.”
“Yeah,” I agree with a sigh.
“Did you see any of them?”
“A few. About eight came out of the pub. They got into two cars and left. That’s when I came back here.”
“Okay,” Malcolm says. He rubs his bearded chin. “So, we know there are at least eight, but we should be prepared for double that number. I’ll call in all the Dirty Aces chapters. If everyone shows up, we should have two dozen men. Think that’s enough to take them on?”
“Ah, yeah, I mean I would hope so,” I reply. Then I can’t help but lower my voice and ask, “Are we sure it’s worth the risk to our men to fight the Knights’ battle for them?”
“Those men are wearing our patches now,” Malcolm says. “They’re one of us. Anyone comes for one, comes for all of us, right?”
“Right, yeah,” I agree.
“Let’s get everyone to the table. Now that Hunt’s back, it’s time to get to work.”
“All right,” I agree before I go round up Silas, Nash, and Devlin, who are playing a game of pool with Silas’s girl, Cora. Her red hair stands out even more than usual tonight. Holy shit! What if she has ties to the Irish?
No, that’s just my fucked-up head, trying to make shit up to take the blame off of Maeve.
Shaking those thoughts away, I tell the guys, “Malcolm’s calling a meeting.”
“Now?” Nash asks.
“Now.”
“It’s go time,” Silas says, laying his pool stick down and giving his woman a quick kiss. “Be back as soon as I can.”
“Okay,” she agrees.
As we start walking to the chapel, I tell them, “We shouldn’t leave Cora out here by herself.”
“The prospect is outside,” Devlin replies. “He’ll let us know if anyone rides up.”
“And we’re sure we can trust him?” I ask.
“He’s solid,” Nash says. “I talked to him and had Lucy run his background.” Leaning closer to whisper to me, he says, “She had already run backgrounds for the Knights. Everyone is clear.”
“Good,” I say, because that makes me feel a little bit better, which is ironic because if anyone is hiding shit, it’s me.
Chapter Thirteen
Maeve
Luckily, the Dirty Aces hangout isn’t some secret. It’s a pool hall that’s in the middle of Carolina Beach with a long row of bikes parked out front. I wave to Freddy, the former Knights’ prospect who is standing guard at the door, and then find a parking spot.
“Maeve? What are you doing here?” Freddy asks when I walk up to the door with Crystal’s car keys in my hand.
“I need to talk to Wirth.”
“Wirth?” he repeats, his brow creased in confusion. “Oh, one of the original Aces?”
“Yeah. Is he inside?” I ask.
“He is, but I think the guys all just went into the chapel for a meeting.”
Shit. Right this second, they’re probably talking about how and when they’re going to hit back the Irish.
“I really need to talk to him,” I say impatiently.
“You can go on inside. There’s another old lady in there hanging out.”
“Okay, thanks,” I say, even though I’m not sure if I’m going to sit around and wait for Wirth.
After only hanging around a few weeks, I already know that in the MC world not even old ladies are supposed to interrupt a meeting, much less a club girl who the guys occasionally fuck.
I pull open the door that jingles before I go through it and find a beautiful redhead sitting on
