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Would I?
With what felt like a freezing breeze of sleet, something blew through me.
Her eyes welled, and her voice cracked. “He’s calling to you.”
My stomach turned, violently, and I sat up, feeling under attack. “Who?”
With hopelessness, she gestured around us. “The one who also calls to your father.”
I tilted my head but didn’t dare ask a question. I was confident the answer would haunt me, endlessly.
Tears ran down her face. “Onus, there is something you should know—”
Bang! Bang! went my door.
“Asshole! Open up!” went my father.
Rosa and I had hidden away and made love every moment feasible. Those private moments were on borrowed time that had run out.
Somberly, Rosa got up from the bed, grabbed her black nightgown, which she hadn’t worn in days, then aimed for the bathroom without looking back at me. “And your father listens.”
The bathroom door closed behind her.
Yes, being told my father converses with a dark power should have been unnerving, but nothing about the last few days was in the spectrum of ‘normal.’ Plus, I’d become some sort of believer in the sparkle of star-filled eyes.
As my front door rattled with disrespect, I got out of bed, my eye twitching with rage. Fear of my father swiftly vanished. In fact, I was contemplating my vow to Rosa with every step. Maybe it was time for Dad to meet his maker sooner than I thought.
After flinging the door open, Dad pretended to shield his eyes. “Damn, Son!” he said in Spanish. “Put some clothes on!” Then he laughed while leaning against the door jam. “I hear you prefer to be between thighs more than being my VP?” His bottom lip jutted out so his exhale could blow gray hair away from his dark eyes.
Even though I now possessed powers, I didn’t know the extent of them. Dad, taking up most of the doorway with his looming figure and having four of his loyals with him, had me contemplating if I could handle them all.
I peered over my shoulder, wondering if Rosa would suffer if I failed to kill my father right away. “Uh, yes,” I answered him then glared. “Some men prefer their Old Lady’s cunt over side entertainment.”
He knew what I was referring to—what I was accusing him of—but didn’t bite the bait. He only feigned offense while still smiling. “Me? Never.” He winked. “Are you speaking English for your new ‘Old Lady’? ”
He was already challenging my claim, so I got louder. “Not new. Only. My only Old Lady.” I studied the men behind him. “Anyone have a problem with their VP?”
Those men might have hated me because Dad did, but rank is rank in the MC world. And presidents can die. If the one standing in front of me did just that, those four men would have to fall in line or face the consequences from others in the club. And whatever punishment I saw fit for ill behavior now.
Leather boots and cuts creaked as the men evaluated how far they wanted to exhibit loyalty to my father. The way they eyed my shoulders, I suddenly remembered I had put on size.
I lifted my chin, silently asking the dickwads if they wanted to tussle.
When leather stilled and no challenges came my way, Dad mumbled, “Fucking pussies,” then got back to smiling at me, a few gold-capped teeth sparkling from the light of my lamp. “Good help is hard to find, no?”
“Not for all of us.” It was just after one AM, so I complained, “I’m tired. What the fuck do you want?”
Dad leaned forward, still fucking smiling. “Maybe side entertainment isn’t so bad. At least I’m not in a bad mood.”
I stepped forward, done with his fucking running trap.
Laughing, he stepped back and out of my doorway. Hands in front of him, he teased, “Okay, okay! I’m just here to tell you breakfast is at ten, and Church is at eleven.”
As he walked away, men in tow, I blinked. Breakfast?
Dad cupped his hands into the air like a megaphone, “Bring that Old Lady of yours!”
My jaw locked. Mom wants to see Rosa.
