Free Tuck's Wrath by Jenika Snow Page B

wanted to talk to him, maybe about what the hell he’d done, or maybe just to shoot the shit since Tuck hadn’t been to the club in a while. And although it had only been a couple of days since he’d spoken with the club members, he still hadn’t heard from them on whether or not he was kicked out.
    He was suffering from bouts of internal rage concerning the whole situation, but none of that had to do with him regretting what he’d done. He’d never regret saving Jana and doing what he did. Making the deal with M had been his only option, and whether the club saw that or not, saw that he did care for the woman and would do anything to make sure she was okay, wasn’t his problem anymore. He’d betrayed them, gone behind their back, and by club rules they could have ended his life and buried him in the mountains where no one would have found him. He’d been through a lot with those members, and even if Pierce was a newbie in the patched-in scene, Tuck had become close with the other man.
    He dismounted and headed inside, his sunglasses hanging loosely from his fingers, his helmet hanging on his handlebar¸ and the emptiness he felt at the fact he didn’t have his cut on weighing heavily on him. When he pulled the door open the sound of “Sweet Home Alabama” coming from the jukebox filled his head. There were bikers gathered around the pool table and bar, and barely dressed older women were on their laps and hanging around them.
    He bee-lined to where he saw Pierce sitting in the back of the bar, a pitcher of beer in the center of the table, and this pissed expression on his face. Okay. Maybe the other man didn’t want to have club talk with him. Well, that was a little better. Tuck didn’t really want to go down that route, especially when he knew if the club had made a decision but was sitting on it, Pierce wouldn’t be able to say anything, or he, too, would be going against the club.
    “Hey, man,” Pierce said and tipped his glass toward Tuck right before he brought it to his mouth and drank the rest of the contents. He poured himself another full glass, gestured for the waitress to bring over more, and then he just stared at Tuck. “Well, sit,” Pierce said, his voice hard, pissed.
    “What’s up your ass?” Tuck asked and pulled the chair out to sit down. If anyone should be in a foul fucking mood it should be him, but even Tuck wasn’t feeling that type of anger. The truth was he was upset over the thought of losing his club, but on the other hand he was happy he had Jana in his house, even for a short amount of time. She wouldn’t stay there forever, was already starting to heal, and he knew she’d leave soon. That had this pang starting in his gut and moving all the way through his chest.
    The waitress set a glass in front of Tuck and grinned down at him, but he waved her away.
    “Turning down pussy that’s willing, yeah?” Pierce said, but he was looking down at his glass, his brow furrowed.
    “I’m not interested in skanky old pussy that hangs out in here.” Tuck leaned back in his chair. “You called, so I assume this is some personal shit.”
    Pierce looked at him, grabbed his glass, and drank more of his beer. They sat there for several seconds in silence, the sound of the music, laughing, cursing, and lewd language filling the room. It felt like the club, and that was a kick to the balls on a deep level.
    “There hasn’t been a vote yet,” Pierce said in a deep, low voice.
    Tuck nodded, filled his glass full, and finished half of the contents before he even took a breath.
    “I want you to know I’m against you leaving. I can see why Lucien called this, but I also know that you wouldn’t have done it if it didn’t mean a hell of a lot to you.”
    Tuck nodded again, not really wanting to talk about it now that it was out there.
    “But that’s not why I called you for a drink.” Pierce set his cup down and leaned forward. “I wanted to know how you deal with wanting something