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Through their lengthy conversations, she’d learned that it just plain sucked to be a prospect. A prospect period was basically a year of abuse, thankless work, and misery. To think Viper had to start from scratch made her chest ache. Though she understood they couldn’t expect special treatment. As Viper pointed out, they were unknowns to this club.
“Fuck that,” Sarge said as he stomped more glass into the carpet. Red-faced and fists clenched, he stopped in front of Viper, getting right in his space.
Cassie held her breath, but Viper didn’t draw back an inch.
“I know these guys. At least five of them. They fucking asked me to come out here. Fucking asked me to join this piece of shit club.”
The angry-pacing resumed.
“Fuck!” Sarge yelled as he grabbed Cassie’s purse off the bed and chucked it across the room, scattering contents in all four corners of the little box.
“Hey!” She jumped forward, careful not to step near the glass, only to encounter the rage-filled face of Sarge staring down at her as he practically bumped her backward.
Yikes.
He was one pissed off individual. Had Viper not been present, she may have had a meeker reaction to such an aggressive posture, but he’d never let Sarge hurt her, so she held her ground, staring him right back.
“Do not give me any shit!” He screamed; face turning more purple with each word. As he yelled, he jabbed a blunt-nailed finger in her face. “I’ve had enough of it today, don’t need to listen to more of your fucking bitching now too.”
Excuse me?
Her bitching? She’d been kidnapped, groped, stripped of her clothing, sold, terrorized, left her home and traveled for the past week plus with two men she didn’t know. Not once had she shed a tear—at least not in Sarge’s presence. She didn’t complain about how sore her ass was from riding for days, and it was sore. She didn’t express her increasing anxiety over the fact none of them had jobs, places to live, or friends beyond each other. She’d been a fucking soldier and he claimed she was bitching?
Hell, no. Who the hell was he to talk to her like that? Cassie was done taking shit from people.
She opened her mouth to blast him when Viper inserted himself between them with a hand on Sarge’s chest and his back to her. His tense jaw and rigid posture let her know he’d like to rip Sarge a new one too, but he managed to stay even keeled. One thing she’d learned about him over the past few days was that the man had unyielding control over his temper. He never lost it or control of himself, no matter the situation.
Even in the crappiest of them.
“Easy, brother,” Viper said, holding his hands up. “We risked a lot to drive back into Washington and sneak into Cassie’s father’s house to snag that purse before we left. Those are her only possessions. Cut her a break man. She’s got nothing to do with why you’re pissed.” He reached a hand behind his back and she immediately grabbed it. One comforting squeeze and she wanted to weep in relief. This man was very quickly becoming vital to her existence.
The second night in Oregon, Viper and Sarge had traveled back to Washington to her father’s home. He’d left that day on business and the place was empty for the night. It’d been a huge risk, but there were things she’d needed, so they’d done it. And every second they’d been gone, she’d sat on the bed, staring at the door with her heart in her throat. God, that’d been a shitty night of intense nerves and stress.
Sarge scowled at Viper with fire shooting from his eyes, but instead of unleashing more rage, he turned and stormed from the room.
As soon as his retreating back disappeared behind the door, Cassie blew out a huge breath. Before the breath had fully left her lungs, Viper had turned and yanked her against his chest. The strength of his muscular arms around her chased away any anxiety Sarge’s outburst created.
“Fuck, babe, you good?” He spoke against her hair.
Staring at a chunk of paint peeling from the door, Cassie nodded. “Viper, that’s the third major tantrum he’s thrown in as many days.” Since they’d entered Tennessee, he’d been growing more volatile by the day. “It’s like he thought they were gonna roll out some red carpet for him when he arrived here, and he can’t deal with the fact that he’s not being treated like a king.”
Yesterday’s blowup had come when the Hell’s Handlers president refused a one on one meeting with Sarge. Apparently, he had some grand idea to pitch to the man named Cutter, but the prez wouldn’t have it. Sarge lost his shit then too, screaming and yelling until Viper ushered them all from the clubhouse and rented this motel room.
