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My mom was completely destroyed and I was so angry for her. My father did a lot of fucked up shit to my mother before that, but that was the catalyst. I lost my shit and attacked him. It wouldn’t be the last time we bloodied our knuckles against each other, but it would be the only time I end up in the hospital over it.
Father of The Fucking Year.
“Got something else to say, son?” he asks like he has an idea of what I should be saying, an all-knowing look in his eyes.
I’ve got plenty I want to say, but the easiest way to protect my mother is to keep my head down and not poke the bear.
“That girl will do good,” he says after I say nothing. “She’s a true dime piece. Every man is going to want a piece of her. I bet she’ll be a cute, little shell this time next year.”
This motherfucker. I swear, one of these days, I’m going to put a bullet between his eyes.
“Give her to me,” I demand vehemently. I can’t stand the idea of someone hurting Laura and for some reason, he fucking knows it. How the hell did I give that away in the limited interactions I’ve had with Laura in front of him?
“To you? Is your dick hypnotized by my sloppy seconds already?”
Just the thought of the two of them together makes me want to gag. She’s not his. Just because he fucked her doesn’t mean anything. He’s taken all of the girls in this club to his bed and none of them are his. He has never claimed one of the girls and I’ve never seen him keep a girl around for more than the amount of time it takes for him to ejaculate.
Laura isn’t his, but she’s not really mine either. I want to fuck her and protect her, but past that, I don’t know.
“Just give her to me.” My words show my determination. I’m not backing down and he knows it, too. If he doesn’t grant me this request, it could cause him more problems than he’s willing to deal with.
“For you to turn or what?” He makes it sound like a joke, but I’m not fooled. There’s something about this time of him breaking the rules of making a girl a mouse that just feels…different. He’s getting something out of this, but I just don’t know what it is. Until I do, I’ll remain on my toes.
I know the way I answer will determine his response and I’d like to avoid conflict, especially where Laura is concerned. I answer in a way that will satisfy him yet get me the results I crave.
“Like you always say, you gotta take a car out for a test drive before you throw down the big bills. The bitch is a rental. I ain’t buying yet.” The words are like battery acid on my tongue. It’s a remnant of my childhood, constantly saying things I thought might impress him just to get my father’s favor. I learned quickly that his approval would never be enough to get the nasty taste out of my mouth.
He nods with approval on his face, his lips pursed in surprise. “That’s supreme intellect, son.”
I hate it when he calls me that. He’s never acted like a father to me. He was always either too drunk or too pissed off to deal with me and that was if he wasn’t busy hurting my mom. This would be an entirely different ballgame if he had actually claimed her like most expected him to. No, he never did, even after she ended up pregnant with me or Cheyenne. Claimed women are left alone out of respect except for by a few guys that have none. Women claimed by the president? The guys wouldn’t even look up when those women walked in the room. Women claimed by the top five are called Untouchable for a reason. They can’t be touched unless a bastard wants to die a slow and painful death.
“Well?” I press, impatient as fuck.
“Fine,” he says with zero thought. “Take her back to your place, but be careful. Plenty of the guys had an eye on her besides you. She’s a dime piece. Physical perfect from head to toe. A girl like that is in loads of danger, especially left in a house full of bikers…unprotected.”
She’s not unprotected. She’s in the kitchen with my mom and Rafael is guarding the door.
Yeah, that’s not good enough.
Suddenly, Rafael bursts into the room. “Trouble, Gunner,” he says, eyeing Browning suspiciously. The sweat on his temple and the fear in his eyes is enough to tell me that I’m not going to like whatever this trouble is.
I jump from my seat and hurry out the door.
“Where?”
“The living room. They pushed their way in and dragged her out. I couldn’t stop them.”
“You need to grow some balls, Sosa, or you won’t last long here,” I growl, irritated.
“Is that how you got that gnarly scar of yours? You grew a pair?”
He does not want to hear that story. I’m not in the mood to make a grown man cry. What I am in the mood for is skinning whatever motherfucker decided to pull Laura out of the fucking kitchen where she was safe.
CHAPTER5
LAURA
Don’t move.
