AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Irina grabs a chair and pulls it flush against the one I’m sitting on. Then she turns in her seat, so she’s facing me directly. “The reason he didn’t do anything until now has nothing to do with the club, it’s personal. You might not know this, but years ago, they worked for Mama C’s mom—”
“What?”
“Yeah. It was messy and not a good situation at all. Anyway, that’s a story for another time. And it doesn’t really matter except it’s why Rusty’s having a hard time being objective when it comes to the Kings.” She points at me. “And therefore you. It’s just too personal for him.”
I give her a sarcastic smile. “But you talked to your brother and convinced him to do something about it. So you’re my knight in shining armor?”
Irina lets out a laugh. “Oh, God, no. I’m not that good. I just won’t stand for what you’re going through. That’s all there is to it. You don’t have to believe me, just know you’re going to get a reprieve.”
Sagging in the chair, I mull over everything Irina just said. It’s a lot to grasp, and I’m honestly not sure I evenunderstood all of it. Like the stuff with Mama C… is that even true? Out of all the Kings and Cunts, I only really know Gray’s and Alana’s backstories. Yet, I have no trouble believing that most of them have tragic backgrounds.
The thought makes something crack inside me, and I begin laughing hysterically. I feel everyone’s gazes on me, but I can’t stop. Not when I drop the smoothie, or when I fall off the fucking chair.
Without warning, the laughter turns to full-blown and heart-wrenching sobs. What are the odds that the one person who didn’t have a tragic upbringing turned out living in a nightmare? If I was any good at math, I’d carry the fucking one and work out the odds.
“Are you okay?” Irina asks, bending to help me up.
I slap her hand away and get up by myself as I swipe at the tears wetting my cheeks. I need to pull myself together damn it. I can’t fall apart in front of these people. They’ll just use it against me.
“Never better,” I bite as I sit back down.
Fuck, how I wish that I was some kind of robot so I didn’t have to worry about stupid shit like feeling. Yes, a feeling-free existence would be perfect.
“Why isn’t she fucking helping us? Is she too good to get her hands dirty?”
The whispers among some of the women cause me to stiffen.
“No idea why they even keep her scrawny ass around. She isn’t even fighting with us in the brawl—”
“Silence!” Irina shouts. “The Zoe hate stops now. She’s your VP’s Old Lady, so you’ll fucking treat her with respect. If she wants her toes cleaned, you should hope she’d ask you to lick them clean.”
I almost throw up at the mental image those words conjure up.
“But why?” One of the women, Lu I think she’s called, challenges. “She isn’t one of us.”
Irina glares at her. “She’s not one ofyou,no. But she’s like me. Which means our asses are way above your ungrateful ones.”
The more Irina defends me, the more suspicious I get. It’s one thing to go from cruel to indifferent, that I could believe. But defensive and nice… nope. She’s up to something.
“Looking good,” Adam drawls as he walks through the door. “Nothing like seeing a group of bitches on the floor. The only thing that would make it better was if someone offered to suck me off.”
As he grabs his crotch his eyes lock with mine and I have to suppress the disgust I feel so it isn’t showing on my face.
“Hi Adam.” Irina greets him and walks over to where he’s standing. “Unless you’re here to pick, leave my women alone.”
“Hmm,” he says, still looking straight at me. “Have you changed your mind about including Zoe in the draft?”
I stiffen, my spine becoming ramrod straight as I listen intently.
“Nice try,” Irina scolds. “You know Zoe is way above your paygrade, so to speak. And if you value your life and intend to live to become a full member, don’t speak like that about your VP’s Old Lady.”
I hate the way she uses that title to refer to me. I’m no one’s Old fucking Lady, least of all Gunner’s. Yes, I’m aware it’s inevitable, but until the day it’s official, I wish I’d never have to hear the words.
“W-what draft?” I ask. It’s probably stupid to insert myself in the conversation, but the lack of answers is getting to me.
“It’s for the Brawl,” one of the girls says.
Irina sighs audibly and points at the girl who spoke up. “I’ve just about had enough of you, Max. Go to the kitchen and wait for me there.”
