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“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” My voice is low, as even as I can make it with the incredulity coursing through my veins.
“That goes for all of you. Stay the fuck away from my nanny,” Silas bellows, totally disregarding me.
Several of the guys back up with their hands in the air, palms facing him in the universal gesture for surrender.
But not me. I'm so fucking far from surrender it's laughable.
“Hey, no problem, Prez,” one of the brothers shouts.
“It was all above board, Prez. We were just having a bit of fun,” Gunnar chimes in, backing up a few steps.
“Alright, alright. Show's over, yeah? C'mon, boys, there are bunnies inside. Let's not keep 'em waiting, yeah?” Ace shouts. He flashes me a concerned glance, which I promptly ignore.
The parking lot clears out, leaving just me and my brother under the street lamps in our parking lot.
He spins to face me. “Stay the fuck away from her. I mean it, Asher.”
I laugh. I can't help it. I tip my face toward the moonlight and let out my disbelief. I turn and look at him. “Are you fucking for real right now, man? You're going to try to scold me with my real name like you're Dad? Who the fuck do you think you are talking to me like that? Huh?”
Tension lights up my body like a fucking Christmas tree, and I worry I might be wrong. Everything isn't going to be fine.
“Who the fuck am I?” he yells, advancing toward me and tapping his chest. “I'm your motherfucking president, so you better fucking listen to my orders.” His words are damn-near snarled, his index finger pointing toward me.
Two more steps and he'd be officially in my face. Guess he's not eager for another shot to his pretty boy face.
I arch a brow, feeling the cruel twist of my lips. “Oh, it's an order now, huh?”
He scowls, his jaw clenched. “Aye, it's a fucking order.” He takes his hat off, runs his hands through his hair, and settles it over his head once more. All done in these fast, quick movements.
And I realize all at once what's happening. Shocked feels like an understatement, but now that my head's cooled, I can reflect on that little scene inside the clubhouse with perspective.
He wasn't forcing Evangeline, and she wasn't trying to get away.
My brother wants my girl, and it's tearing him up inside.
A release a low chuckle into the warm night air, the sound harsh even to me. “You're jealous, aren't you.” It's not a question.
He bristles, his eyes narrowing. “I'm not fucking jealous. I'm you're fucking president, and I'm giving you an order.”
I back up a few steps, forcing my smile into something closer to normal, and holding out my arms wide on either side of me. “Alright then. I guess I'm out.”
His brows cave in and he plants his hands on his hips. Hands that were all over my girl ten minutes ago.
“What do you mean you're out? You can't leavefamily.”
I don't say anything, just continue to walk backward toward my bike.
“You don't leave the Reapers, brother. You know that,” he says, his voice low and full of warning.
It's wasted on me though. This isn't about the club, not really. And I'm tired of all the fucking secrets in this family. The rambling confessions of a man on his deathbed have haunted me for five years.
“Maybe not ten years ago, but this is the new chapter,brother. We're not even in the real game anymore. So all this”—I hold my arms out and spin in a little semicircle—”it's not even real.”
“But she is?” he presses, his eyes narrowed.
“I don't know, man, why don't you tell me?” I challenge him.
He doesn't say anything then. He just looks at me with his hands on his hips and his ball cap low over his eyes.
