Read Online Friction (Oath Keepers MC Book 5) by Sapphire Knight - Free Book Online
Authors: Sapphire Knight
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my body strung up tightly ready to flip my shit. I hate people touching me, especially when I’m not expecting it. I don’t know why I’m that way, I just am.
“Lose my hand? This isn’t the eighteenth century; I was only trying to make conversation. Chill.”
“Well don’t. You ain’t my fuckin’ buddy. And yes, lose your fuckin’ hand. If you’d like I can turn your shriveled little wanker into a cunt, then we can have you ‘round here with the other bitches.”
I hear a few more brothers let loose chuckles. Stupid fuckers; at least someone’s getting some entertainment out of it.
Daddy, that’s not nice!
Her voice chastises, and I instantly picture her wagging her finger at me.
“You gotta stop that, baby; not here,” I mutter, not realizing I said it out loud.
“All right I get it, but don’t call me baby, man. That’s fucked up,” the Prospect grumbles, irritated. I can’t help myself and I grab the back of his head and slam his face into the bar a few times. He stumbles to the side a little from the hard impact to his head. I jump off my bar stool.
I’ve been needing this—a way to help keep her voice quiet—and it seems blood was the only trick I had to remedy that. I can’t have her talking to me when I’m not alone.
My fingers tap at my side irritated, the same beat I always go back to.
“Aghhhh!” he screams with his hands over his face attempting to stop the blood from running out of his nose. The brothers just sit, watching and laughing, waiting for me to really beat the dude’s ass. Before I have time to get a kick in, Ares is storming between us, dragging the idiot to the bathroom.
“Welp, Twist, Daddy took your plaything away.” Spin laughs as he walks up beside me, resting his elbows on the bar away from the bloody mess I’d created.
“Shouldn’t you be at your shop drawing in your coloring books or some shit?”
He shakes his head at the same line I always give him shit with, as Snake sets a longneck in front of him. Spin’s our patched brother, the club’s treasurer, and he also owns a tattoo shop where he’s usually hiding out. Today his tall Mohawk’s a dark purple color, almost the same color as one of his eyes. The other’s like a pale gray color. His hair’s usually black, but occasionally he’ll pop in with some crazy color.
The first time I saw him match his hair to his eye, I thought the fucker was wearing a contact; turns out it’s real. I punched him to find out. I got my ass kicked pretty good; he’s a buff fucker. But it was worth it, and he doesn’t really annoy me like a lot of the others.
Spin’s one that actually knows how to keep his fuckin’ mouth closed. Most of these asses around here don’t know what quiet is or are scared of it or some shit anyhow. I can head to Spin’s shop, and he’ll tattoo me for hours in silence; it’s one of the few times my mind’s at peace.
“You gettin’ up there in age, man—always repeating yourself. Better think on something new.”
“That’s right; I am older, so respect your elders,” I grumble and stick a toothpick in my mouth. I could go for a line right about now.
“How old are you anyhow?”
“Why? You gonna bake me a cake and suck my dick if I tell you?”
“Fuck no! Just wondering if I needed to tat a milestone on you or something.”
I have nothing to respond to that one, so I just laugh and take a seat back on the bar stool. Slamming the next shot back, I damn near choke hearing Spin.
“I hear you were talking to 2 about Sadie.”
I take a moment to clear my throat at hearing her name come up out in the bar in front of the others. They’re not right beside me, but within listening distance with the music turned off.
“Fuckin’ gossipin’ bitches around here.” I swear to Christ, these guys like to talk about shit they know nothing about. It’s usually Smiles and the damn Prospects running their mouths.
“You shoulda’ waited until I was here.”
“Why? So
“Lose my hand? This isn’t the eighteenth century; I was only trying to make conversation. Chill.”
“Well don’t. You ain’t my fuckin’ buddy. And yes, lose your fuckin’ hand. If you’d like I can turn your shriveled little wanker into a cunt, then we can have you ‘round here with the other bitches.”
I hear a few more brothers let loose chuckles. Stupid fuckers; at least someone’s getting some entertainment out of it.
Daddy, that’s not nice!
Her voice chastises, and I instantly picture her wagging her finger at me.
“You gotta stop that, baby; not here,” I mutter, not realizing I said it out loud.
“All right I get it, but don’t call me baby, man. That’s fucked up,” the Prospect grumbles, irritated. I can’t help myself and I grab the back of his head and slam his face into the bar a few times. He stumbles to the side a little from the hard impact to his head. I jump off my bar stool.
I’ve been needing this—a way to help keep her voice quiet—and it seems blood was the only trick I had to remedy that. I can’t have her talking to me when I’m not alone.
My fingers tap at my side irritated, the same beat I always go back to.
“Aghhhh!” he screams with his hands over his face attempting to stop the blood from running out of his nose. The brothers just sit, watching and laughing, waiting for me to really beat the dude’s ass. Before I have time to get a kick in, Ares is storming between us, dragging the idiot to the bathroom.
“Welp, Twist, Daddy took your plaything away.” Spin laughs as he walks up beside me, resting his elbows on the bar away from the bloody mess I’d created.
“Shouldn’t you be at your shop drawing in your coloring books or some shit?”
He shakes his head at the same line I always give him shit with, as Snake sets a longneck in front of him. Spin’s our patched brother, the club’s treasurer, and he also owns a tattoo shop where he’s usually hiding out. Today his tall Mohawk’s a dark purple color, almost the same color as one of his eyes. The other’s like a pale gray color. His hair’s usually black, but occasionally he’ll pop in with some crazy color.
The first time I saw him match his hair to his eye, I thought the fucker was wearing a contact; turns out it’s real. I punched him to find out. I got my ass kicked pretty good; he’s a buff fucker. But it was worth it, and he doesn’t really annoy me like a lot of the others.
Spin’s one that actually knows how to keep his fuckin’ mouth closed. Most of these asses around here don’t know what quiet is or are scared of it or some shit anyhow. I can head to Spin’s shop, and he’ll tattoo me for hours in silence; it’s one of the few times my mind’s at peace.
“You gettin’ up there in age, man—always repeating yourself. Better think on something new.”
“That’s right; I am older, so respect your elders,” I grumble and stick a toothpick in my mouth. I could go for a line right about now.
“How old are you anyhow?”
“Why? You gonna bake me a cake and suck my dick if I tell you?”
“Fuck no! Just wondering if I needed to tat a milestone on you or something.”
I have nothing to respond to that one, so I just laugh and take a seat back on the bar stool. Slamming the next shot back, I damn near choke hearing Spin.
“I hear you were talking to 2 about Sadie.”
I take a moment to clear my throat at hearing her name come up out in the bar in front of the others. They’re not right beside me, but within listening distance with the music turned off.
“Fuckin’ gossipin’ bitches around here.” I swear to Christ, these guys like to talk about shit they know nothing about. It’s usually Smiles and the damn Prospects running their mouths.
“You shoulda’ waited until I was here.”
“Why? So
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