Wring: Road Kill MC #5 by Marata Eros

cat-fighting girls.”
    “He started it.” I point at Noose.
    Snare folds his arms. “Like I was saying.”
    “What the fuck is going on?” Lariat looks
between the two of us.
    “Wring's being a dumb fuck about this chick,
poking some fun at me because I'm all domestic and shit.”
    I glower, looking at my boots. I guess I'm
pretty transparent. Especially to Noose.
    “What's going on? Why do I come in here and you
guys are beating the shit out of each other?” Lariat's dark gaze
searches both our faces.
    “He won't admit he's got it bad for this
girl.”
    I look at Noose. “I only admit that I want to
close the loop with her. I came by—wrong time, wrong place. This
fucking Blood was hurting her, and… I don't know. Didn't fucking
like it. Made him stop.”
    Lariat whistles. “ This is why Viper's
calling emergency church. He's going to want to hear all about
it.”
    I hang my head. I endangered the club by
interfering. All the delicate turf war establishment and domination
might be ruined.
    Snare studies my expression. “We've all done
shit, Wring. What's going on?”
    “What's going on is Wring has pussy fever, and
along with not sleeping, he can't think until he taps this
girl.”
    I whirl, grabbing Noose by the collar.
    “Fuck,” Lariat spits and slaps his palms on our
napes, slamming are skulls together.
    Noose sits on his ass, and I stagger
backward.
    “You two fucking children are going to get
along.”
    We look at each other, and I press a hand to my
head where Lariat knocked our shit together.
    “I like tapping twats,” I say slowly. “Nothing
better. I sure as fuck don't need some girl that's got a fucked-up
home situation with a chaser of gang.”
    Snare spreads his arms wide. “Yeah. That all
sounds great in theory. You sleeping around—or just sleeping?”
    I let my anger slide out on my next exhale, like
a dragon breathing fire.
    Snare chuckles. “But when there's a woman you
can't stop thinking about, that usually means one thing.”
    “It's never just pussy when you can't stop
festering over a chick.”
    “Why don't you fuck it out?” Nooses suggests
with a shrug, hauling himself to his feet and spreading his arms
away from his body.
    I shake my head. “I could try, but the truth is,
I'm concerning myself with her when she's not around. Fucking sweet
butts will only be a distraction from my goddamned issue.”
    “What?” Lariat asks in thinly veiled disgust.
“You met this girl yesterday?”
    I give a curt nod.
    “You can't be feeling anything—hell, is this a
white-knight complex or something? You know we're not in the
sandbox anymore, right? We don't have to save everyone.”
    Noose and I look at each other then at Lariat.
We tap knuckles like people toast with champagne.
    “Ya can't save everyone, Wring,” Snare comments
quietly.
    I fist my hands. “I don't want to save
everyone.”
    “Just her,” Noose guesses with unerring
accuracy.
    My head swivels in his direction. “Yeah, fucking
genius. Just her.”
    I walk away.
    Gotta go to church and get my ass chewed and
spit out.
     
    *
     
    Viper leans back, drumming his fingers on the
battered church table. His faded-blue eyes peg me where I sit.
    We usually meet at eleven in the morning once
per week. Why the late hour? Lots of hung brothers. And I don't
mean in the cocky way, like horses. But hung from booze and
bitches.
    “I don't know, Wring. You're the most
level-headed of all the brothers.”
    “Amen,” says Storm, a prospect who has a knack
for opening his mouth at the least opportune times. Noose glares at
him, and he exhales in justified fear.
    Noose grins at his expression. He gives Viper a
swift look. “Vipe, Wring and I got into it.”
    “Heard. Ya dumb bitches, we don't have time for
a beatdown among ourselves.” He swings his finger between the two
of us. “I need you guys to be ready for our enemies. What were you
two lovebirds quarreling about anyway?” He rolls his eyes as though
weary. “Gotta be