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He’s fucking serious.
“Or what?” I demand, unable to keep the venom out of my tone.
“Or we’ll pay the pretty policewoman a visit later tonight.”
“Excuse me?” I curl my fingers into a fist, aching to knock this asshole’s teeth out. “Just who the fuck do you think you are?”
His guys crowd closer, but they don’t scare me. Prez finds my attitude amusing based on the wide grin he flashes me.
“Perhaps I should be asking you that very same question.” He steps closer, blowing another plume of smoke at me. “How’d you get the bruise?”
Slowly, the dots begin to connect. Those shitheads from last night must have tattled on me. Does that mean Trevor knows this brute? Is he selling for this ingrate?
“You see,” Prez says, waving his cigarette at me again. “I make it my business to know everyone in this town. You Parks weren’t a problem until you were.”
“You’re pissed I didn’t want to buy your dirty meth?” I bark out a scornful laugh. “Sorry, dude, but I’m not interested in that shit. I don’t see what the big fucking deal is.”
Prez glowers at me, the vein in his thick neck pulsating with anger. “The big fucking deal is you went straight to that cop’s house to report what happened. Now my business is in trouble because of you.”
Trevor or Charlie must’ve followed me back to Sloane’s house. I’ve put her in danger, and my sister too because somehow trouble always finds me.
“I’m no narc,” I spit out. “This is bullshit.”
“Put it to rest then,” Prez says with a one-shouldered shrug. “Play me and Bozo. First to rack up three wins will take home their prize.”
My sister isn’t a goddamn prize. But non-compliance means stepping aside for them to make good on their threat to mess with Sloane.
I have to play them.
And I have to fucking win.
“Let me grab my guy,” I bite out. “We’re getting this shit over with.”
The men in his little asshole gang all crack up laughing. I storm back over to my group, ignoring the concerned looks Sloane throws my way. Gemma bites on her bottom lip, eyebrows pinched. Jude and Tate both stand nearby, bodies tense, while Sloane’s date smiles goofily at me, completely unaware of the shit storm about to go down.
“It’s you and me, Tate,” I grit out, patting him on the arm. “Stakes are high. We can’t lose.”
Sloane breaks free from her loser guy and strides over to me. “What’s wrong?”
I flash her an easy smile. “Nothing, Officer Do-Good. Just a friendly game of Kill the Bikers at Pool.”
Her lips tug into a frown, disappointment etching her pretty face. I’m not about to get into this with her in front of everyone. Right now, I have to make sure these pricks don’t harass either of these two women.
Jude’s hand curls around Tate’s and I wonder if he’ll let him play. If he doesn’t, I’m fucked. We’re all fucked. These guys are itching to put me in my place. If I’m going to get out of this, I have to make sure we beat them fair and square.
“Good luck,” Jude grunts, releasing Tate. “I’ll be watching your every move.”
“Dempsey,” Sloane starts, lifting her hand as though to stop me.
“Make sure everyone stays here.” I meet her stare with a warning glare that brooks no argument. “Do this for me, Sloane.”
I grab my stick and storm off before she can interrogate me. Tate settles into step beside me, shooting me a questioning look.
“We win, we get a motorcycle,” I say with a forced grin. “Just what I always wanted. Dad’ll be so proud.”
“And if they win?”
“They can’t.” I clench my teeth and shake my head. “They’re trouble with eyes for my sister.”
