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“Why the h-hell not?”
Micah laughed. “Get ready to get your balls busted.”
I guess it wouldn’t be a great time to tell him Heather loved my balls and everything attached to them.
Hale and Macon Sturges were shooting pool downstairs in their man cave. The basement was the only place Heather didn’t clean, and refused to set foot down there because of the mess. The guys enjoyed their space and the privacy it gave them. Micah filled me in as we descended, slapping me on the back when I entered the lion’s den.
“Pops. This is Spook. Uncle Macon, this is the kid dating Heather.”
Thanks, fucker.
“H-hello, Mr. Sturges and Mr. S-Sturges.”
They both stared, neither one cracking a smile.
“You fucking my daughter?”
Wow. Two hard blinks followed as my anxiety kicked in. “You’d have to ask her about that, sir. I’m happy to provide whatever assistance she requires.” No shit. That was the truth. Orgasms. Protection. Conversation. More orgasms.
“Shit,” Hale laughed, shaking his head. “You got balls of steel saying that shit to my brother.”
My gaze swept over his leather vest and the patches on the front. VICE. ENFORCER.
I hated to think what would happen if I pissed him off.
Macon didn’t wear a leather vest. Maybe he wasn’t actually a member of the Royal Bastards. Not that it mattered when his brother was an officer. At least he seemed like he had a position of authority. Either way, I’d be respectful.
Macon folded his arms across his chest. “You don’t fuck around on Heather. Break her heart, and I will. Hunt. You. Down. Capiche?”
“I don’t plan on it.”
“Don’t plan on it or won’t, kid? Which one?” he growled.
“I won’t,” I assured him.
Micah snickered, and I itched to flip him off.
The throaty rumble of motorcycles suggested company had arrived. I heard the engines rumbling as the bikes pulled onto the driveway, and a trickle of sweat dripped down my back.
“Get him out of here,” Hale gestured to Micah. “Make sure he understands the rules.”
“Got it, pres.”
Pres? Short for president?
Micah pushed me toward the stairs as bikers stomped toward us, hardly sparing me a glance. They ticked their chins at Micah in greeting.
I noticed Micah’s leather vest and the patch that read PROSPECT.
On the way out, I stopped at the kitchen, staring at the stairs. I wanted to check on Heather and ensure no nightmares robbed her of sleep tonight.
“Go,” Micah laughed, “but hold on a minute. Got something to say.”
“Okay.”
“My pops accepted you into his home and in his brother’s home.”
I nodded, understanding where he was headed with this brief speech.
