Page 89 of Property of Rattler

I barely have time to register it’s Freak’s fist that’s coming to me, before I feel blinding pain in my face, my crutches slipping out from under me as I fall over backward, slamming my already concussed head on the floor. For a moment, all I see are stars. The shock’s made all the breath leave my body, and for a moment my lungs can’t take in air, then, finally, I gasp. Slowly sights and sounds come back into focus.

“Freak!” That’s Trixie.

“Get your fucking’ hands off me,” Freak roars. As I squint upward, I see Tempest and Winchester trying to hold the enforcer back. “I’m going to fuckin’ kill him.”

“Freak! Stand down!” But it seems that even Prez can’t calm him. I realise I’m getting up and personal with one of our enforcer’s insane freak outs. Even in my enraged state, I can see how that’s not going to end well for me if he gets loose.

“Fuckin’ contain him,” Prez yells, as Freak gets a hand free and reaches into his cut for a weapon.

Is he going to shoot me?

Even as I wonder whether I should prepare to meet my maker, Woody joins the fray, and somehow the four men manage to get Freak’s hands zip-tied behind him — though Saint gets a bloody nose when the enforcer rears back and head butts him in the face. Then Tempest knocks his feet from under him, and while he and the bleeding VP pin him to the ground with their bodies, Winchester sneaks in and gets a zip-tie around his ankles.

“What the fuck is going on?” Prez roars. His voice is overly loud in the room where the music has been switched off and all conversation has stopped. I realise then, everyone is looking between me and Freak. Prez looks down at where I’m lying, resembling a turtle stranded on my back. And just like the reptile, there’s no way I can right myself. “Explain, Rat.”

I try to pull my head up, even that’s an effort. “She,” I raise an unsteady finger and point it at Freak’s old lady, “gave Ames intimate details of what I was like in bed. And she was not complimentary about my performance.”

Freak stops struggling to get free for a moment, his eyes blazing with fury, and looks up toward Trixie. “You did what?”

Trixie blushes red and looks really uncomfortable. “It wasn’t like that.”

“You’re lying,” I spit out.

Freak tries to roll himself toward me. Tempest and Saint pull him back.

Trixie starts talking fast. “Ames admitted she and Rat hadn’t yet fucked. The club girls overheard and offered their opinion. They just mentioned I could corroborate it. I didn’t start it. They did.”

Prez barks out. “Star, Heaven, Sweetie, get your asses over here.”

“Fuck, Prez. Can you give me a moment?” yells Words from somewhere over near the pool table.

Sweetie approaches. She jerks her thumb over her shoulder. “Heaven’s just stepped out with Piston, and Star’s…”

“With Words, yeah I heard.” Prez narrows his eyes on her. “Did you talk to Ames about Rat?”

“Well, yeah,” the dumb bitch answers. “Ames is a sweet girl. We just warned her Rat leaves a woman wanting in bed.”

Heaven comes running in, followed by Piston still fastening his pants. Someone must have run to get him. She tears over and places her hand over Sweetie’s mouth. Then she looks up at Prez. “She doesn’t know what she’s saying.”

His voice is menacingly low. “Oh, I think she does.” He glances behind him and sees Words marching over with a scared-looking Star. “You three been discussing brothers’ performances with an ol’ lady?’

“Just Rat,” Sweetie manages to get out from behind Heaven’s hand.

“And Trixie?” He stares at the enforcer’s old lady, while addressing his words to Heaven.

Heaven grimaces and looks down. “We just said Trixie could confirm it as well.” She seems fascinated by her shoes. “She didn’t actually say anything.”

Suddenly there’s a snort from behind me. “Look at Rat getting a scorecard from the whores. Looks like you failed to make the grade, Bro.” It’s fuckin’ Stalker. He’s on my shit list for real. Just wait until I’m healed. I’ll make him suffer.

But Prez gets in first, turning on Stalker. “And you’re happy they’re keeping notes? And discussing us openly?” He grabs Star by the back of her neck. “You got anything to say about me?”

“You’re great…”

“That was a rhetorical fuckin’ question,” he snarls. At her look of confusion, he adds, “I didn’t want you to answer.” He rubs at his temples. “The three of you, get yourselves back to the barn and we’ll decide what to do with you.”

“You… you’re, not throwing us out, are you?” Heaven seems to cotton on to how serious this is.

Prez doesn’t relent, his glare fixed. “Whores have no business even talking to ol’ ladies, let alone discussing brothers with them.”