Ready For Love?

Chapter 2

Unknown POV

“Have you all forgotten how to use your f*****g tongues?” I growled, staring at the two men in front of me.

Sparky and Hawk are full members of the Death Defenders MC. I’m the Sargent of Arms, begrudgingly, but share most of the duties with the VP when I’m away.

I didn't want the position, never asked for it and tried to argue against it, not that they would listen. I was voted in and told to 'suck it up princess'.

These two dickheads in front of me were drinking and f*****g laughing at the bar together last night. Now Sparky is spitting out blood and has a split lip, while Hawk has a black eye on the way.

Both are huffing and puffing like raging bulls ready to go again while glaring at each other with at least five brothers in between, after they were dragged outside.

I was coming in from a ride when I saw the first swing towards the back before everyone was on their feet. Sparky is ex Seal and Hawk is still in, so pulling them apart was a f*****g mission in itself.

“They were f*****g the same b***h now she’s gas lighting them both.” I think it was Keys who spoke up instead.

“So your fighting over used p***y?” I raised a brow. “Take it into the ring downstairs, get STD tested. You're both on toilet duty for a week and your fines need to be paid by the end as well. The b***h has a permanent ban from the compound and you two need to unfuck yourselves and find your balls again.”

I shook my head and went back into the common room to get a drink. The looks on their faces showed they were finished with their little ego hits and realization had finally kicked in. They both got played.

And this is why I’m happily single, never settled down and don’t intend to.

Never wanted kids anyway after growing up in the foster system. Most come out f****d up in one way or another. Some want to have kids and make their own perfect family, finally.

Others like me just spend their life trying to deal with their anger.

Even if you did get a good family, there were still the abandonment issues or something else. I wish I was that f*****g lucky. Nope I got the FUBAR upbringing of them all.

Dont' know if it's because of that, that I’ve never felt the drive to fight for a woman or even sleep next to one. I certainly like to f**k, but that’s it.

A wife and kids sounded like more trouble than its worth, even after seeing some of the brothers and sisters' seemingly good marriages. Others, just prove my point and confirm I’m happy to live the bachelor life until my last breath.

The MC are my family, or the closest thing I'd ever want to one and it works with everything I do and want.

My contract work, which can be anything from under the table or above the table for the FBI, CIA, or any of the other alphabet agencies, isn’t something that works with a normal wife and kid's family anyway, especially if it's like the last six months. It was Frenchie’s last contract mission since he had a wife and a kid on the way and the bullet that just missed my head was a reminder that I’ve been cheating death for a while now.

I met Frenchie in Afghanistan many years ago and have done a few contract jobs with him. The others with us that night were Blaze, who’s part of the Death Defenders MC when he’s in the country, Oz, Lazz and Cout, who are part of Frenchie’s team.

It ended up being a quick and easy mission, but still with a couple of close calls just for a senator's daughter that was supposedly kidnapped… she wasn’t. We were sure she was there by her own f*****g choice… but no, his little princess would never defy him and date someone to piss him off. Would never run away to get away from his toxic fake bullshit, realizing at 22 years old she could have her own life.

Death doesn’t scare me anymore, hasn’t for a long time. Our life expectancy is normally between 35 and 45, so I officially reached the start of that on my last birthday.

Why do I bother with these jobs? I question it more and more.

Yeah, the money’s great, but I have enough of it and don’t need these s**t jobs. Taking down trafficking rings at least brings me satisfaction, although the stake outs beforehand are always monotonous, but necessary.

That night was a favor that was called in, though. The number of favors owed to me, is more than I could possibly use, but you never know. I also didn’t want to let the others do that night alone and agreed to come help.

In the end, it was still a successful mission and the princess was sent back to deal with her father herself. That’s not part of our job.

We knew the boyfriend and his friends had connections, but not that high up that would set any alarms off within the cartels and local gangs. Well, not for a few days at least.

That’s what we thought, but not long after Blaze had been patched up back at the MC, my phone rang. “Words out.” Frenchie was straight to it as the call connected. “They were deeper than we thought. All their names with rewards attached have been spread.”

Alright, maybe the senator did have a bit to worry about. Thankfully though, under a little pressure, the boyfriend and friends ended up being quite the singers. The senator's daughter supposedly had no idea about it all and was 'unavailable' to be questioned... so had been sent to her room and told she was not to have a life.

The information we got kept us all very busy for the next few months, including nursing a stab wound to the side for a couple of days. The information was too hot, no matter how pissed at me Doc was.

The VP, Trigger, once again had to step up and take on a lot of my role in the club, but they still wouldn't let me step down.

“You need to slow down. When you got here you looked like you hadn’t slept in weeks, your…”

I groaned and cut him off. “Doc! I appreciate it Brother, but enough.”

We have a doctor that’s ex Navy and now works at a local practice, contracted to the clubhouse. We have him on retainer, even though he is a member and refuses to be paid most of the time.

We have a lot of members with medical issues or PTSD due to their service, so Doc and a local head quack work at the club to help them.

Doc is great for jobs like this. No paper work, so didn’t happen.

He sighed before sitting down in his chair, leaning back. “You got stabbed because you got sloppy. You got sloppy because you’re not thinking clearly….”

Here we go, but unfortunately, he’s right. “Then I’ll hit the hay before I head out again. Thanks Doc.” I cut him off again before walking out with a nod. I didn’t need to hear anymore.

Little did I know that in a little over six months, another stab wound and a few bullet near misses later, I would have an Australian come waltzing into the club and take over. A woman that would make me question if it was time to give it all up.