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The sound of that name made every muscle in my body tighten like it was preparing to see the person who I was named after, ready to drive my fist through his damn face.
“That’s your legal name, isn’t it?” he prodded further, though he already knew the answer to the fucking question.
“Hudsonwas the name I was given the day I was born,” I answered through clenched teeth.
“And Drake is your…bikername?”
“It’s the name everyone has called me since then.”
“Why is that?”
“Because Hudson was my grandfather’s name, and he was a misogynistic, holier-than-thou bastard who forced my mom to marry my dad and promised to make her life a living hell if she ever tried to leave,” I announced, getting to my feet and slamming my palms down on the table between us. “Except she already felt like she was there and figured the real hell couldn’t be much worse, so she slit her wrists in our bathtub where my six-year-old brother found her.”
Elton didn’t speak.
He swallowed, though it looked painful.
I guessed it probably was when you took your whole foot and shoved it in your fucking mouth.
He cleared his throat, looking to the two men beside him, who seemed to be shitting their fucking adult diapers. “Moving on to the point at hand, I’d really like a more in-depth list of the things the investment money would be spent on and where the profits would go,” Elton explained in this soft, almost mother-talking-to-her-baby kind of voice. “I’m sure you understand.”
I took my seat again, sitting forward, cupping my hands together on the table. “I actually don’t. How about you explain?”
He laughed nervously and cleared his throat. He was sweating, pulling at the collar of his shirt. “Given the way your…family… has been in the news recently, we don’t want to be seen supporting or funding gangs and thugs.”
“Gangs and thugs?” I repeated, unsure of what to fucking say because losing my shit at this little bastard any more than I already had would only prove his point.
“Yes,” he said this time managing to speak without his voice shaking, doubling down on his comment. “We want to be sure where our money will be going. Drugs, prostitutio—”
“Get out.”
His entire body jerked as if I’d pulled out my gun and shot him.
“You… I… we can’t—” he stammered, erratically shuffling through the papers in front of him. “I’m sure—”
“No, I’m sure.” I got to my feet, rolling my shoulders back as I stood over the little bastard. “Sure as hell we’re fucking done here. And next time you think about walking in here and disrespecting my fucking family, just turn around and walk back out because I’m telling you now, the only thing you’re going to get from it is a broken nose.”
The old guys beside him were already frantically packing their shit while Elton simply looked at me, his eyes wide while his mouth opened and shut over and over again like a fish.
I knew why.
Because he expected to walk in here, talk to me like some fucking idiot because of my background.
He thought I was just some dirty biker.
It wouldn’t be the first time someone I’d attempted to do business with had underestimated who they were dealing with. And I could tell you now, I wasn’t afraid to lose business if it meantcorrecting them.
“Sor—”
“Elton, I swear to God,” Reed warned with a growl. “Just get the fuck out.”
I kept quiet, falling back into my chair while that oblivious dumbass and the two crypt keepers wandered out of the meeting room, Reed closing the door behind them before leaning his forehead against it and letting out a long sigh. “I thought you were gonna kill him,” he finally said, releasing a breathy laugh before standing and turning to face me.
I scoffed. “For a second there, I thought so too.”
Reed knew the day we met about the club and the lifestyle I grew up in. He didn’t look at me any differently and didn’t question my motives or where the fuck his money was going when he invested in our projects.
Because it didn’t matter.
