Page 3 of Property of Player

Beck likes to rib me. Some things never change.

I let it slide.

“Well, you better get dressed, VP. It’s not wise to keep the ol’ man waiting,” Pony says.

“Just don’t keep us out here with our thumbs up our ass while you bang your fuck-toy in the shower,” Cruz grumbles.

I grin and push off the counter, heading to the hall. “Maybe I will.”

“It’s fucking freezing outside, bro. You’re gonna need your chaps,” Pony calls after me.

Chapter two

Player

Twenty minutes later, we all head out to the driveway, Molly behind me.

“She comin’?” Cruz asks, his body language telling me he doesn’t like the idea.

“Her car’s at the clubhouse. I’ve got to drop her off,” I reply.

“We don’t have time for that shit,” he replies. “Can’t you drop her at the gas station or something?”

“Shut it, Cruz. If you’re in such a fucking hurry, then she can ride with us.” I glance at Molly. “You good with that?” She’s wearing an old leather jacket of mine I just lent her to keep her warm on the ride. My eyes stray over it, remembering the girl from high school who used to wear it with pride.

“Sure. I don’t work until late.” Molly’s eyes shift to Cruz, but he doesn’t say more.

I pass her a helmet and swing my leg over my bike, lifting it off the kickstand.

Molly scrambles on behind me, and the four of us roar out of my drive.

The sun is high, and the ride is energizing. Pony wasn’t lying about the cold. It cuts right through me. It’s just what I needed to clear my head and prepare for the day. I already know today is going to suck. I dread this date on the calendar every year.

Cruz leads us to the address, and we roll up a street lined with houses that runs along the beach. He turns into one of the last driveways, and I immediately spot the for-sale sign in the front yard. There’s a red sold sticker across it.

Shutting off my engine, I take the place in as I pull off my helmet and climb from the bike. The salty tang of the ocean hits my nose.

“Where are we?” Molly asks.

“Don’t know. Let’s find out.” I take her hand and follow the guys inside the front door and through the empty rooms. We find my father and Drae in the living room overlooking the front deck and the beach beyond with its rolling surf. I glance at the view, then take in my father.

He stands with his arms folded and his booted feet apart. He’s an intimidating man on a good day, and I’ve yet to find out which this is. He’s had a lot of bad days since my mother was killed.

“Pops,” I say by way of greeting the man. “What is this place?” My eyes shift between him and Drae, the club’s Sargeant at Arms.

“I just bought it,” my father replies.

Everything in me stills, and I arch a brow. “You bought it? Why?”

“To live in, dipshit.”

I try to put the puzzle pieces together. He’s owned the house our family grew up in since before I was born. Now with his three sons grown, and my baby sister about to graduate high school next month, he’ll soon have an empty house. I get that, but the thought of him selling our family home is jarring.

“As a weekend place?” Beck asks. He’s just over my shoulder, and I glance at him. The look on his face tells me he’s just as blindsided as I am.

“Nope. Sellin’ the house,” my father replies.

“Selling the house? For real?” Pony asks from my other side, his expression stunned, and a tinge of anger laces his voice.