Chapter 3 TWO

This was a black pirate. Grim recognized him—Eagle.

Grim was a bit pissed that he hadn't seen Eagle within the bar already. If he had, there would are a way, much different atmosphere to the night. all told likelihood, he wouldn't have are available, so on avoid a fight.

Eagle was lots of things. Sergeant-At-Arms for the Black Pirates. An enforcer, a gunman, a person so bad ass in his own gang that it had been his elected job to police the opposite members of the Black Pirates, similar to it had been Gabe's job for the Beat Machines. Big, dark-haired, and scary. He was nearly as big as Grim and had a face toughened from years of fighting. a protracted clawed scar was etched down one side of his face from behind his eye to his jaw, and he had an extended jagged patch of healed burned flesh on one shoulder.

He was also Grim's former brother; a former member of the Beat Machines, and also the best reason that Grim had been displeased for about two years straight.

To say the 2 had work was like saying that the ocean was a bit bit wet. No other man was skilled than Eagle for the death of Grim's sister.

The only reason Eagle was still alive—as far as Grim was concerned—was to stay the peace with the Black Pirates, which was something that Grim cared less and fewer about as time went on.

Grim failed to turn, keeping his hand outstretched for a key to the flophouse.

“They came to speak to me,” said Grim. “I got nothing to try to to with you. feels like they don’t want to either.”

The girls realized, very suddenly, that that they had misjudged who Grim was. One biker may have appeared like another to them. A rookie mistake. Long, her entrance still wet on top of Grim’s hand, shifted to maneuver away. Instead, his fingers simply rubbed harder on her clit. She shuddered, throbbing in pleasure, sliding up against his thick body with a touch moan. She couldn't stop herself from giggling and kissing against his neck, hormones absorbing her judgment.

Blonde backed away though, leaving Grim’s hard cock untended—and thirsty for release. His eyes narrowed on Eagle, wondering where the traitor scum would take this small dance.

Grim was the type of man who could find a thrill in anything. If he wasn’t visiting fuck, then he was visiting fight, which was that.

“Let’s keep this nice, huh?” said Eagle. “You step away. return to your table. she-bop along with your friends, I don’t care. But you permit these girls to us. We obtained them.”

“They drank my whiskey,” said Grim, finally turning around. “So who’s gonna pay me for that?”

His voice reached a dangerous tone. The longer he and Eagle talked, the closer they'd come to fighting. He probe for reasons to stay talking. The fight was close now, bending at the sides of their reality.

Several Black Pirates stood up—and so then, did the Beat Machines.

Long finally got her shit together enough to backtrack of Grim's lap, whimpering a touch as she did. He could still feel her wet arousal on his leg.

Grim might been within the wrong to begin a fight at Cyclone —but that was a matter for later. Brothers backed one another up within the moment, irrespective of what.

The Black Pirates moved forward sort of a wave. Pool cues and chairs in their hands. The Beat Machines did the same—Mitch pulled out a pair of knuckles and Gabe unwrapped the chain he kept looped through his belt holes.

Gunfire. within the brewing melee, Manny picked up his shotgun from behind the bar and let it unleash on the ceiling, filling the bar with a significant boom and mud from the shattered plaster. He pumped it and leveled the barrel at Grim and Eagle, who had been circling one another with fists up.

“Get out of here,” he said. “Now.”

Grim and Eagle saved together, both keeping an eye fixed on one another and on Manny's shotgun.

Once through the door, Grim heard the telltale snick of a knife popping open. He twisted and snapped Eagle’s hand away just in time to avoid having steel jammed in his kidneys.

Just like a coward-ass thieving' low cocksucker like Eagle to undertake and stab him within the back. Once clearly hadn't been enough for him.

More bikers rushed in, fighting as they passed through the door. Fists flying into each other's faces, boots kicking into ribs, hard wood smashing against backs—it was a brawl, plain and easy.

There were seven Black Pirates to their four Beat Machines. It wasn’t good odds.

Grim liked that.

Fists flying, knees hammering. He and Eagle rolled through the concrete and he smashed the traitor against the hard ground. The gasoline pump outside was near. He heard Gabe and Mitch duking it out with the Black Pirates, the prospect roaring like sin, no shots fired yet. It wouldn’t be long. Gabe and Mitch were both packing, and little question the Black Pirates were too.

Grim didn't carry a gun unless absolutely necessary. Most of the time, he was enough of a headache on his own.

Eagle groaned on the bottom. Where a cut had opened, blood spilled around his teeth and cheek. Grim pulled the nozzle from the pump and whacked him over the top with it. It made a tough, satisfying clang and thunk sound, opening up another gash on his head. Then, Grim sat down on his chest. The nozzle clanked against Eagle’s teeth—Grim wanted to drown the fucker in gasoline and set him aflame.

Shots were fired, and bullets smacked against the metal roof of the bar. Red and blue lights swarming within the dark of the night. The highway patrol, probably nearby to test the ID’s of the women partying with the Black Pirates.

An old sting and a good one if you were not careful.

Intercom voices ordered the gang of brawlers to square down. Someone within the mess of outlaw bikers shot back at the cops, filling their newly-arrived cars with bullets. Grim saw blood—saw through the darkness one cop take one hard within the head, dead in a moment.

Mitch shouted to him. “Grim, we gotta get out of here!”

Grim roared with frustration, so near killing Eagle, to ending the son of a bitch who might likewise have killed his sister.

And a decent death, too, burned alive from the within out. Too good for Eagle, but plenty painful all the identical.

No fuck, barely a fight, and not even a kill to talk of. His blood pounded, his cock still hard from the joy within the bar.

He stood up, keeping his shoulders level, and dashed back to his bike. Gabe, who was standing next to him, began to curse.

“Motherfuckers,” he growled. “They fucking took my bike?”

“What?” said Mitch. “When?”

“It doesn't matter,” said Grim. “Get on!”

Gabe hopped onto the rear of Grim's bike, clearly unhappy. Grim was able to murder all cop and black pirate on the scene. But there was an excessive amount of heat on them already—and he had just started an all-out war with the Flags.

They rode away into the night, leaving the wreckage and the dead body behind.