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"She can speak for herself."
"Not when you're heavy-handed like that. Bullying her."
"Who's bullying anyone?"
"STOP!" I twist and turn, weaving free of his hold. "Both of you. I'm not some fucking toy to fight over."
"I was just trying to help, Rae," Maddie whispers.
"I know." I shunt the heels of my hands into my eyes, but it does nothing to quell the brewing storm. "I know you were. But damn it, I'm so tired of being told what to do, when, and how. I'm tired of not being trusted to think for myself. To take care of myself."
"Maybe you should take a look at the situation that brought you here," Kane says, "and really ask yourself why people think they need to give you direction."
"Kane," Maddie warns, urging her brother to stop.
He continues. "You can't take care of yourself, Rae. You fell fucking pussy-first into a bad situation, and then when it—surprise, surprise—turned to shit, you couldn't even face up to what you'd done. You couldn't own your fuckin’ decisions."
"That's enough, Kane." Maddie reaches for her brother.
He jerks out of her reach.
"No." I lift my hand to her. "Let him carry on. I want to hear what he would have done if he was me."
"Yeah?" Kane all but laughs, his fucking smile spreads that wide. He loves the spotlight, I realize. A narcissist through and through.
"Please," I grit through a tense jaw. "Tell me first how you would have understood Connor was a bad decision, taking into account I didn't knowanyonewhen I moved here. And then explain to me what you would have done, as me, a woman two-thirds the weight and half as strong as of any of the men in the room, when they cut Tom's skin to ribbons, salted it, dripped alcohol into the wounds, and then fucking shot him once he finally gave in to the pain and told them what they wanted to know."
His upper lip twitches, eyes a perfect midnight storm. "You think any of that makes me feel sorry for you?"
"I don't want your pity. I just want to be fucking respected."
"You haven't earned my respect."
Maddie cups one elbow with the opposite hand, chewing her nails. The look in her eyes says she longs to break free and stand up to her brother, but I get the feeling he has a hold over her despite being younger by a few years. The fated heir of a fucking biker empire. I can only imagine the ego that comes with knowing there are dozens of men that, one day, will have no choice but to follow your will all because of who your daddy is.
"If blind submission is what it takes to get your respect, then I won't fucking miss it. You can keep your fucking opinions toyourself and stay the fuck away from me." As brave as I sound, I want to vomit.
Conflict and I do not mix.
"Hard to do that when you're inmyhouse." Kane lifts a hand, fingers grazing the line of my jaw. "Don't go fooling yourself into thinking you're untouchable, Rae. You won't always have my father around to protect you."
"Kane." Maddie steels herself, chin high, shoulders proud. "That is enough. For real." She shies a little when he spins his attention to her. "You know Daddy doesn't tolerate empty threats around here."
His lips twitch, gaze flashing across me before settling on his sister. "Who said it was empty?"
33
DIGGER
The Monday nightcook-up is in full swing when Tyke and I roll in. A seemingly ridiculous tradition that starteda few years back when one of the boys did a trade that saw him with a full cattle beast and nowhere to store the meat. Everybody thought it was a joke when Tyke paid for the same deal the following two weeks, damn near ensuring the Red River Butchery stayed in business all on his own. But by month two, people started to pitch in, offering a hundred bucks here and there to fund the meat budget.
Now, every goddamn Monday, the club cooks up a monster of a feast that feeds everyone and their family, leaves leftovers for meals during the week, and provides donations to the local soup kitchen.
Nothing like a little bit of positive PA to turn everyone's head when we make the news for less desirable reasons.
"Didn't realize how fuckin' hungry I am until now," Tyke gripes as we cross the yard to the laid-back party.
The mouthwatering aroma of slow-cooked, bourbon-soaked beef fills the air. That and tire smoke and cigarettes.
