“There is. I don’t let anyone who belongs to me be called names.” With his chest, he hit Max’s again, determined to get his point across.
Max grabbed a handful of his T-shirt, clenching his other hand into a fist. “If you’re wanting a beating, do that again.”
Hannibal began barking, circling the two men.
“If he bites me, he’s dead meat,” Max warned.
“If he bites you, you better not touch him,” Stump warned back. “He’s trying to protect me.”
“If you need protection from a dachshund, we need to throw your ass out of the club.” Max snickered to several of the brothers who had gathered closer to watch.
Like sharks, the Predators fed off carnage. Because of Max’s size, most of the brothers never took him on, and Max took advantage of that fact. Like them, Stump had never seen the need to take a stand against the man. It wasn’t the injuries he could inflict, but his insults against Hannibal that had him risking it.
“If I needed protection from a dog, I’d have a Doberman or a Pitbull.”
Hannibal’s barking escalated, drawing Ice and Jackal from the back room. Stump didn’t back down from the confrontation with the president watching.
After his meeting with Creed, Stump had seen Ice come into the clubhouse and go into the back room where Jackal had closeted himself. While still in the waiting room, he told Jackal what Zoey’s reaction had been to the flowers and the note. The enforcer hadn’t said a word at the information. Now Stump was itching to get in on the meeting with the two brothers, telling himself that he only wanted to find out about the meeting with Creed. Truthfully, he wanted to know if Jackal found out who left the flowers and note for Zoey.
Stump conceded that half of his irritation with Max was anger at himself, as to why he would give a fuck who had left the flowers. It was no skin off his ass, and none of the other brothers gave a flying fuck who did it, so why did it bug the piss out of him?
Neither Ice nor Jackal would tell the club for that very reason. Unless it concerned the club, they would be left out of the loop until it did.
Then there was Zoey’s lack of common sense toward a possible stalker. That troubled him. Which was another reason he was ready to take on the man who was twice his size.
“They’d probably run away from you, too,” Max scoffed. “You can’t even hold on to a bitch in heat. Tilda dumped your ass, didn’t she? If you couldn’t hold on to the bitch, you for fucking sure aren’t going to be able to handle a dog the size of a thumbtack.”
“Let’s get one thing straight, brother. If I wanted Tilda, the whole club would know. Just like they know Hannibal is mine.” Recklessly, Stump didn’t think first before speaking. “I’m not the one who had to go running to another state to fetch her back.”
Max’s face grew so red that even the whites of his eyes assumed the color. “Are you comparing my wife to a dog?”
“You tell me. Does Casey bark when she comes?”
Stump was prepared for the fist that Max struck out, catching it before it could pound into his jaw. Using the force of Max’s swing that had him off balance, he thrust him backward, sending the brother into the men behind him.
Jackal and Ice caught him, restraining him before he could strike again.
“Chill! Max and Stump, back room… now!” Ice roared out when Max wouldn’t stop struggling.
Stump picked up Hannibal, tucking him under his arm. The dog’s mouth peeled back in a snarl when Max walked past him toward the office.
“I’m going to cripple you so badly that the mutt will be the one carrying you,” Max promised, giving him a threatening glare.
“You’re the one who’s going to be drinking those cheeseburgers you love through a straw if you don’t quit insulting Hannibal.”
“Cut it out! Shut your dog up or I’m going to ban him from the club. I have to listen to enough of that shit at home.” Ice slammed the door shut, his expression daring them to continue arguing.
“Quiet, Hannibal.” Stump took a seat at the long table, setting his dog down next to his chair.
The dog stopped barking to lay on the floor.
“What’s up?” Max asked, taking the seat next to him.
“I need one of you to volunteer to keep an eye on Zoey, and one you to take a job for Creed. He has a client who’s refusing to pay.”
When Creed’s customers couldn’t pay, they often took off, trying to hide from the huge amounts they owed. Stump had done a couple of those jobs for him. The money could range from a few hundred into the millions, depending on the reason that Creed had been hired. He would launder millions of dollars or represent businesses who were so shady a reputable bank wouldn’t touch them. It didn’t matter if his clients had paid him millions of dollars in fees, if they left him owing twenty dollars, Creed would hunt them to the ends of the earth to pay up, or they died by his hand.