“On your knees, you stupid bitch!”

Harvey James’s head snapped around, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the crowd for the person belonging to that voice. He knew that voice and it meant nothing but trouble. He had spent a lot of time and money making sure the Rusty Nail Bar and Grill was a place for people to relax, not get drunk. He refused to allow riff raff into the place.

The sound of flesh hitting flesh made Harvey’s teeth grind together, a fine line of rage riding along the edge of his nerves. He allowed people to be abused in his tavern even less than he allowed the idiots that got too drunk to be respectful of others.

Harvey wove his way through the dancers on the floor in the middle of the bar, his instincts drawing him to the far corner of the main floor. Someone had dimmed the lights in that corner or broken them. The shadows surrounding the area weren’t supposed to be that dark.

Reaching the edge of the dance floor, he wanted to growl…or punch something. If he had known that the Dirty Dozen had somehow made their way inside his tavern, he would have taken a match to the place and burned it to the ground—preferably with them in it.

There weren’t many people in the world that Harvey hated, but there was a reason that he had left the Dirty Dozen Motorcycle Club. Besides the fact that he didn’t like the power plays going on between those coming up in the ranks, he despised the man that was at the top of the pile looking to be top dog.

Razor Malone was an idiot, plain and simple. The man had not a single brain cell in his head and a shit ton of muscles to back it up. He used his strength to get what he wanted, which was pretty much anything anyone else had, and he didn’t care who he had to hurt to get it. Why he had been allowed into the motorcycle club would forever be a mystery. The man needed to be put behind bars, or in a psych ward. He was nuts.

And who in the hell named themselves Razor, anyway? Life was not a B-rated biker flick.

Harvey stopped a few feet from the tables in the corner. His eyes flickered to the man kneeling on the floor for a brief second before going back to the asshole holding him there by a handful of hair.

It was easy to see that the guy on the floor was in pain, and no doubt terrified. His big hazel eyes dominated his pale face as they silently screamed in anguish. Not a sound passed his lips, almost as if he knew it would do him no good.

“Well, well, well,” the man in the chair mused. “If it isn’t Harvey James.”

Harvey crossed his arms. “Razor.”

“Fancy meeting you here.”

“I do own the place, Razor.” And the calculating look in Razor’s eyes said that he knew that.

“You don’t say.” A sly grin crossed the man’s lips.

Harvey tilted his head. “What do you want, Razor?”

“Well, seeing how we’re old buddies and such, how about free drinks on the house?”

“No.” And more than that, hell no!

“One round of drinks, then, for old time’s sake.”

“No.”

When Razor went to stand, the fingers he had tangled in hair pulled, making the man on the floor whimper in obvious pain. The sound seemed to remind Razor that the man was there, as if he could forget he was abusing someone.

“I’ll tell you what, you give us a round of drinks on the house and I’ll let my bitch suck your dick.” Razor yanked hard and the small dark haired man fell against him before scrambling back into his kneeling position. His entire body shook as if he thought he had just committed on offense that would get him punished.

He probably had. Razor always liked keeping his pets in fear of him by way of his fists. The bruising Harvey saw on the small man’s arms and neck attested to the fact that he had been punished more than once.

If Harvey’s teeth ground together any harder, they’d shatter.

“No.” Harvey refused to add to the man’s punishment.

Razor licked his lips, giving Harvey the impression that the man was jonesing for some alcohol, which was odd considering he was sitting in a bar. Harvey started to get a nagging suspicion that Razor and his buddies were broke.

Yippee. Harvey could kick them all out.

“One round of drinks and I’ll let you have his ass.”

“I won’t take your leavings, Razor,” Harvey said in the calmest voice possible considering he was about to reach out and wrap his fingers around the moron’s throat. “I didn’t when I was part of the Dirty Dozen and I sure as hell won’t now.”

“I ain’t fucked him.”

Ignoring the overwhelming urge to beat Razor’s face in, Harvey’s eyes dropped to the man on the floor. How was that even possible? Razor fucked anything with a pulse, and Harvey suspected a few things without a pulse.

How could he have this man as his pet and not fuck him? Granted, the guy was young but Harvey doubted that had stopped Razor before. Again, not something he could prove, just a feeling he had. But at least the kid looked legal, barely.

But beneath his bruises, he was also gorgeous. He had big hazel doe-like eyes that reminded Harvey of someone that was young and innocent and terrified to be pushed out into the big wide world. He looked like he didn’t understand why he was being knocked around by Razor, almost as if he couldn’t conceive of that type of brutality.

“How long has he been yours?”

Razor shrugged and glanced away but not before Harvey saw the calculating glint come back into the man’s eyes. “A couple of months.”

“And you haven’t fucked him?”

“Naw, man, you know I only fuck pussy.” Razor was lying through his teeth…both of them. Harvey had seen Razor fuck men before, but he only did it when he thought no one else was paying attention.

Being gay in a motorcycle club was kind of like signing your own death warrant. The only reason Harvey had survived was because he didn’t advertise that he liked men and he had the muscle to beat the shit out of anyone that hassled him.

“One round of drinks for one hour with your boy.” Harvey couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. His only excuse was the need to get the kid somewhere and make sure he wasn’t being held captive by Razor. He wouldn’t put it past the asshole.

“Done.”