Unbreakable: Unrequited Part Two (Fallen Aces MC Book 2) by Max Henry

counter, ready for a stiff drink.
    I stare straight ahead at the short fridges filled with chilled bottles and answer, “Public bar.”
    “What don’t you get?” Apex snarls. “You’re not welcome. Fuck off.”
    I take the Jack and Coke handed over by the prospect doing the drinks and turn side-on to face the two men. “You got an office.” I tip my bottle toward the open door. “If the conversation’s private, why don’t you use it?”
    Being sober still has its advantages; I dodge the right hook Apex swings before the old bastard has time to think through what he’s doing. Rule number four on the charter: A brother may not fight another brother without the SAA bearing witness to ensure an even and fair fight.
    His face is red with rage as he advances on me, forcing me to retreat into a barstool. It clatters to the floor as our prospect behind the bar lets out an ear-piercing whistle. Beefy arrives from outside as Apex pulls his arm back for another swing.
    “What the fuck is goin’ on here?”
    “Little shit thinks he can fuckin’ talk back to his senior,” Apex spits, his fist still raised. “Needs to be taught his place.”
    “And you need to act the fuckin’ role model you are,” Beefy growls as he wraps his fist over Apex’s. He turns his attention on our guest. “And you, Grime. What the fuck were you doin’? Standin’ around with your fuckin’ thumb up your ass?”
    “Not my business,” the guy grumbles as he turns back to the bar and takes a healthy swig of his beer.
    “Like fuck it ain’t.”
    Apex still fumes, the heat damn near visible as it pours off him. He begrudgingly allows Beefy to push him back and onto a bar stool. I do as instructed when our sergeant at arms points a thick finger to the discarded stool I tripped over, and pick it up to sit on it. The prospect hands Beefy a drink, and he takes the last available stool between us, leaving Grime to mumble his complaints as he wanders over to the pool table, out of earshot.
    “You two,” Beefy starts. “You can both sort this shit out with damn words. We’re grown men here. We’re fuckin’ civilized. Aren’t we?”
    Neither Apex nor I speak. We stare each other down with a mix of hatred and frustration.
    “Aren’t we?” Beefy booms.
    “Yeah,” the two of us mumble.
    “Pres, it’s your right as the senior member to go first. What’s the real issue?” Beefy crosses his arms over his massive chest, challenging Apex with his stare.
    “Fucker is tryin’ to rip the club apart. This little cunt wants my job, and it ain’t happenin’.”
    No disputes there. Although I’m not intent on pulling the Aces apart; if anything, I want to knit it closer together.
    “Rebuttal?” Beefy asks.
    “I’m not tryin’ to tear the club apart. I just think the leadership doesn’t have the members’ best interests at heart.”
    “That so?” Apex flares up. “See these gray hairs?” He jabs an angry finger to his temple. “Don’t get those from relaxing on my fuckin’ easy-boy and chuggin’ beers every day.”
    “No,” I bite back. “You get them from the stress double-crossin’ your brothers gives.”
    “Say what?”
    “You fuckin’ heard me.”
    Beefy slams a hand to each of our chests. “Quit it.” He hangs his head briefly and sighs. “We’ve already been through this, King.”
    “Yeah, and I don’t think it’s resolved.”
    Beefy eyes Apex. “You got anythin’ to share?” He narrows his gaze on our leader. “Now’s the time to confess if you do. We go to vote, and you’re found to have secrets that don’t benefit the club, you’re tying your own noose.”
    “Don’t you fuckin’ worry about me,” Apex growls as he pushes off his stool to point an accusatory finger my way. “Just you watch this fuckin’ snake. He’ll bloody strike when you least expect it, and then you bitches will be whinin’ at me that I was right.”
    If only he knew. Nobody’s going to be whining at him; they’ll all