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Sweat gathered at my hairline. I blamed the heat of the Michigan summer sun, ignoring the complementary butterflies stirring in my belly, signaling I was nervous about the shitstorm I was possibly about to start.
Four or five men lazed on the expansive porch of the three-story house, beer bottles in their hands. Cold beer bottles—moisture dripped from them as the frosty liquid inside fought against the humidity. The tattoos, piercings, and beards that decorated each of the men screamed, “get the fuck out, and don’t come back.”
Everyone who lived within a fifty-mile radius knew this was one house in the entire city that should be avoided at all costs. The house itself was large and old but was well kept with nice gardens, tended potted plants, and what could have been a fresh lick of beige paint.
But it wasn’t the place itself that had my hands shaking, it was what you might find here, and whether or not it was worth the beating you’d most likely get for showing up uninvited.
Yet, here I was, on a mission to let one fucking asshole know that he shouldn’t have messed with me or mine.
Consequences be damned.
One set of eyes after another turned my way, each with their own personal reaction—some confused, some surprised, and even a set that seemed nothing but eager to see what was about to happen. Either way, though, their eyes all started low with a show of appreciation because my knee-high black suede boots and Daisy Dukes were sure to grab any guy’s attention. I had great legs.
I worked damn hard for this body, and it was the reason my daughter and I had a roof over our heads.
“Missy?” Drew was quick to leap from his seat, his brow knotted between his eyes as he raced down the few porch steps, his hand trailing the banister. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Just the motherfucker I was looking for.
“You should’ve walked away,” I spat, the confused look on his face like an accelerant fueling the fire in my belly.
“What the hell are you talking about?” He threw his hands in the air while continuing to walk forward.
When he got close enough, I reached over my shoulder and slid out the baseball bat that I’d tucked back there. In one swift move, I pulled it back and swung at the bastard’s knee. The hard thud mixed with his pained scream as he dropped to the ground were like a symphony. I wished I could record it and play it on repeat.
Several clicks came from above me, the unmistakable sound that every gun owner knew.
The safety was off.
Those guns were ready to shoot, and they were now aimed at my head.
“You crazy bitch,” Drew screamed as he rolled around on the ground, clutching his knee.
Fucking pussy.
It wasn’t broken.
Probably not even dislocated.
I hadn’t swung that hard.
There would definitely be a bruise on it tomorrow, though.
Drew and I went way back at least ten years. He was my ex, Jared’s, best friend when Jared and I had started dating. I got pregnant and walked out on the cheating bastard, raising my little girl basically on my own with her visiting her father one weekend a month, only because it was court-ordered.
Jared and Drew had a falling out a little over a year ago, and to be honest, I was kind of glad. With Drew joining the MC, it was one less dangerous criminal to have hanging around my child.
Drew and I had never had any real issues. Not until yesterday when I picked up Kadey from Jared’s, and she wouldn’t stop crying. Then he walked out with a black eye and split lip and told me how he’d run into Drew down the street, and the little shit for brains had decided to pick a fight with him.
In front of my child.
My four-year-old daughter.
Who was now traumatized.
“There a problem here?” a deep voice questioned, the gravelly tone tickling across my skin, leaving a wave of goose bumps in its wake. It was almost enough to make me look up, but first, I had something I needed to say.
I took a step forward, so I was standing over Drew, the dickhead, who was still crying like a bitch, not caring that there were now probably six guns pointed at my head. “Listen to me, you pathetic piece of shit. I don’t give a damn what problems you have with my ex. He’s not exactly my favorite person in the world, either. But if youeveragain decide to express those feelings with your fistsin front of my daughter,I’ll come back here with a rusty knife and castrate you in your sleep. Then I’ll shove your balls so far up your fucking ass, you’ll be able to taste them.”
