He landed sloppy on something hard. Couldn’t be the floor—he was still on his feet. Wetness under his cheek smelled like bottom-shelf tequila.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, a surge of animal instinct that ran from the bottom of his spine, up his back and over his shoulders like an army of angry spiders on his skin. Will clenched his right fist and twisted his body in a wild swing as he stood.
His fist connected hard with the face of the man rushing at him. Will felt teeth loosen under his knuckles, felt the shock run up the muscles of his arm and into his back, like it was happening in slow motion. The man’s face collapsed under Will’s fist and his body came to a stop like he had run headlong into a wall. His feet slipped beneath him and he tipped backwards, landing with a sickening thunk at Will’s boots.
For a split second, everything was quiet, and Will felt like he existed in pieces. He was aware of the fingers of his right hand flexing open and shut, trying to stretch out the pain from the punch. The smell of tequila still lingered on his beard. Faces from the crowd surrounding him started to look familiar—most of them were not happy. That second ended as soon as the bar crowd digested what they had just seen, and the place erupted into chaos.
The man at his feet hadn’t been alone, and now his friends came rushing out of the crowd at Will with righteous fury. He only half-noticed he was outnumbered as he fearlessly cocked back and swung hard at the closest one, connecting, but not as strongly as he’d hoped. He sent the fucker tumbling on unsteady feet into the crowd, creating a domino effect of toppled tables, spilled pitchers, and broken glass.
Someone came at Will hard from his right, tackling him at the shoulders and taking him down to the bar floor. He tried to twist his way free as he watched dozens of feet storm by, people rushing for the exits or running to join the fight. Before his attacker could land a good punch, Will saw Jase’s giant form stalk over on heavy boots. Jase threw the man into a table and pulled Will roughly to his feet.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Jase screamed at him. He held him by the cut, drilling his angry gaze right into Will’s eyes, but Will could barely focus on it physically, and felt nothing emotionally. He replayed the knockout punch he’d just landed in his mind and smirked to himself instead.
Disgusted, Jase pushed Will back with enough force to make him stumble, but not fall. Will held out and grasped the bar to regain his balance as Jase turned away from him. Will squinted as the overhead lights in the bar flashed on suddenly, flooding away the moody darkness. The man he hit was still on the floor, but coming to, writhing and moaning in his own blood. He saw his MC brothers buzzing around like angry hornets, holding off the tough guys in the crowd, shoving them out the door, and getting ugly with anyone who didn’t comply. From the back of the bar, Will could hear someone yelling in high-pitched Spanish.
Someone had left a full shot of whiskey on the bar in the chaos. Will drank it and tossed the shot glass across the dance floor. Ghost, Tommy, and Martin huddled together in a group, shaking their heads and giving him pissed-off glances until Jase came back in from the parking lot. He stalked right over to Will at the bar.
“You about finished with your tantrum?” he growled. He stood in front of Will with his arms crossed.
Will laughed bitterly. “Fuck you, man. That shithead had it coming.”
“You can’t fight every prick who tries to rile us up at a bar,” said Jase. “And anyway, it didn’t look like this guy even started anything this time. You’re the one being a prick.”
Will stood up and straightened his cut. He was bored with this bullshit. Jase had been rubbing him the wrong way for months, and he had just about enough of it. “What’s wrong, huh? Big, tough soldier-boy isn’t so fucking hard anymore? Did you finally realize how many of your victories were just dumb luck?”
Will saw a flushed anger rise from deep in Jase’s chest. His arms dropped to his side with balled fists. Something cold appeared behind his eyes. Whatever Jase wanted to say first, he seemed to swallow it as Will stared him down with eyes that probably looked as lifeless as he felt.
“You’re out of fucking line, Bowers,” said Jase. Will couldn’t remember the last time Jase hadn’t used his first name. “And you know what? I’m done cleaning up the shit storms you create. So from now on, don’t bother calling me when you want to go out and set fire to the town.”
“That’s fucking fine with me,” said Will. “You’re only in my way, as it is.”
Jase shifted his shoulders, and for a moment, Will thought he was going to throw a punch. He didn’t even flinch at the threat.
“You need to get your house in order,” said Jase in a low, angry voice. “You’re out of control. This isn’t going to end how you want, or how you think.”
“What the fuck would you know about it, anyway?” said Will, taking a half-step forward to invade even more of Jase’s boundaries. “Don’t talk to me like I’m a goddamn child. My life is none of your business.”
Jase didn’t answer right away. He didn’t seem as angry in that moment. “That’s your call,” he said. “But I’ve got brothers to keep out of jail and a wife who would prefer me home in one piece at the end of the night. So you can keep driving this suicide machine on without me.”
Will scoffed at Jase’s seriousness, his dramatic choice of words. “Step the fuck off, then. I don’t need you.” He moved around Jase and headed for the door, passing by the group of his brothers without a look or a word. They watched him leave in silence.
The night air felt good on Will’s skin. Every inch of him felt inflamed with stress, with energy, with impulse. He lit up a cigarette and climbed on his bike, finishing half before he chucked it to the gravel and revved his way out of the parking lot. He drove aimlessly for ten minutes before he decided he wasn’t done with his night of fun, and set course for Aphrodite’s.
Saturday night meant the strip club was packed with visitors from both Howlett and LeBeau, aided by that sexual charge in the air during the summer months that seemed to get everyone riled up without even trying. It seemed like his hunger for women had become insatiable in the past few months. If he wasn’t thinking about kicking the shit out of some asshole who had crossed him, Will was thinking about getting his dick wet, and doing what he could to make it happen. He had every mouse at the clubhouse worshipping him, and even their constant willingness wasn’t enough.
Will parked his bike in a long line of others and sauntered into the club. Lights and bass pulsed against the dark walls, people moving and cheering in the shadows as they watched the glowing stages. Saturday nights meant the varsity team was on deck, and Will felt his dick harden at the sight of three gorgeous women writhing naked on the stage. He moved through the crowd and kept his eyes on the dancer with the deep brown hair and skin like fine china. He could see the delicate folds of her smooth-shaven pussy and imagined it hovering over his tongue, his fingers buried inside its soaking warmth.
He waited until she finished her stage show, and then moved to the bar to talk with the manager of the dancers. He slipped the man several hundred dollar bills and pointed out the pale stripper. Deal done, Will headed without pause to the rear of the club to the private rooms. He sat down in the first open one and waited, rubbing an eager hand on the bulge in his jeans. He only stopped when a topless server girl brought him a double whiskey, winking at him as she left.
Moments later, the dancer came from around the corner with a devilish grin. She had put back on the tiny gold bikini she wore when she wasn’t on stage and closed the door behind her as Will stared without shame at the curves of her body.
“I heard you asked for me,” she said.
“ ‘Asked’ is putting it nicely. Did your boss also tell you I don’t like names?”
She nodded and ran a soft hand down the length of her body, almost absentmindedly. Will felt his dick twitch at the sight.