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“Spec, what the hell?” Brooke cut in, gaping at him like he’d lost his mind.
Maybe he had. This woman drove him to it. The sight of those bruises was making him murderous and guilty as hell. As if he didn’t have enough of his own issues, Olivia fried his brain. He couldn’t decide whether he wanted to bend her over his knee or fuck her from one moment to the next.
Maybe bend her over his knee, then fuck her…
Goddammit, now he was going to have a full-on chub in front of the whole damn club. What a waste of a good boner. As nice as those fancy tits and ass were, the woman had to be an ice queen in bed.
Uh, Scott, you’re sweaty.
Scott, I only do missionary sex.
Scott, I don’t swallow. Actually, I don’t really do blowjobs.
It’d all be accompanied by a scrunched nose and shake of her head.
His cock deflated. Much better. Oliva belonged in a nailed box with a sign that said Dead Best Friend’s Prissy Little Sister. He had no business wondering how those tits felt and that pussy tasted.
And he was getting hard again.
“Spec!” Curly snapped.
Shit.
“Yeah, Prez?”
“The fuck’s going on with you?” Curly folded his arms across his chest and glared.
Blinking, Scott scanned the room only to realize he and Curly were the only two people left. When had everyone else gone? “Sorry, boss. Zoned out for a second.” It’d been happening occasionally, but usually when he was in one of his rages.
“Yeah, noticed that.” With a sigh, Curly ran a hand through the thick mess of spiraled hair that gave him his road name. “Told the ladies they need to have someone with them if they go out.”
The ladies. Like Olivia was part of the club family now? Snorting, Scott dragged a hand across the back of his neck. “Imagine they loved that.”
“Yeah, you know how independent Brooke is. Pretty sure she’d rather just stay home than have a babysitter tailing her when she’s out.”
“Think she prefers to be home with all those pups anyway, brother.”
“I know.” That got a chuckle from the gruff man, but it quickly turned into a scowl. “After what happened with Maverick, I’m fucking stupid to hope these assholes would lose interest in us.”
Scott’s gut twisted with guilt. “Fuck, boss, that shit was on me. I know it.” He’d lost his shit after being confronted by two of Curly’s old club brothers in a gas station. They were spewing all kinds of bullshit, and as usual, Scott’s beast exploded, fucking one of the guys up pretty bad. In retaliation, they kidnapped Maverick and his ol’ lady when they visited the area.
“We’re gonna have to do something, but, damn, I was hoping we could fly under the radar a little longer.” Curly had seen a fuck-ton in his life. The man lived hard and rough, breaking nearly every law in existence with his prior club. Thirteen years in prison for the one crime he didn’t commit would affect any man. Curly valued his freedom above everything except Brooke. Scott knew the prez would gladly spend his days in a cell if it meant keeping his woman safe.
When he opened this charter, Curly said one of his primary objectives was to stay quiet and off the cop’s radar for as long as possible. Being a one-percenter MC, the quiet wouldn’t last forever, but the prez had no love for cops. War with another group of bikers would kill any chances of living a cop-free existence.
“Could get ugly,” Scott said as he rounded the bar. Alcohol, they needed alcohol.
“It’s already ugly.” Curly sat on a stool and rested his forearms on the bartop. “For fuck’s sake, Spec, they choked Olivia in broad daylight. Right out there while ducks were swimming in the pond and runners were jogging by. I know you don’t like this woman, but you can’t think she deserved that.”
Scott held up his hand as ice formed in his veins. “I’m gonna stop you right there, Prez. My shit with Olivia is personal. Got nothing to do with the MC. I don’t give a fuck who she is. Any man puts marks on a woman like I saw today, they deserve their fingers broken at the very least.” Maybe some castration for good measure, as an extra punishment from Deke.
“Yeah,” Curly half grunted, half spoke.
Scott slid him a beer, then popped the top off one for himself. The icy liquid tasted fantastic and helped cool his heated temper.
“You know, whatever the personal shit is, it wouldn’t kill you to dial down the asshole when you’re talking to her.”
“Don’t plan on talking to her.”
Curly took a swig of his beer then stood. “She’s living across the hall from you. And she’s here because she’s going through some shit.”
Scott’s head popped up at that. “She told you that?”
