AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I lean down and kiss Ivy again. Once. Deeply. A kiss that takes and takes and never gives. I’m a greedy motherfucker and I want all of Ivy. Not a fiber of her will go untouched by me.
“Go. You’ll get yelled at.” She whispers, her voice turning breathless.She’s turned on.
“Don’t fuckin’ care.” I press into her again, my hand falling down to her ass and squeezing tightly.
She pushes me away lightly. “You will when you come out of there with a sour look on your face because you want to pound into each of them.”
“I want topound into you.”
“Stop.” She laughs. “Go, I’ll wait for you.”
I frown, grunting as I give her a displeased look and make my way to church, suddenly angry again.
That’s how my life is. Ivy comes around, my anger fades.
Once she’s out of sight, the wrath is back in session.
I pull a cigarette out of my pocket and spark it up as I walk in the room, shutting the door behind me.
“Want to tell me why Bronson has a fat lip and a black eye? Again?” My dad barks at me before I can even sit down.
I chuckle. “I asked the motherfucker to change the oil on my bike. He tells melater.”
West winces.
I nod at him. “Thank you. Motherfucker says later and doesn’t think he’s getting a fist to an eye. He’s delirious.”
My pops runs a hand down his face. “Did you tell himwhyyou hit him?”
“He should know!” I shout, my hands out in awhat the fuckgesture.
He slams his palm on the table. “He doesn’t know, Aziel! You keep fucking hitting him for no God damned reason and he doesn’t know what he’s doing wrong!”
“He’s the fucking prospect!” I growl.
“You’re not getting what I’m saying. You have to fucking teach the kid, Aziel. He doesn’t know why. Just fucking tell him. Then hit him, for all I care. Fucking hell.” The irritation coming from my dad is almost comical. The man is usually calm and collected. My hostility is running him thin.
“He’s not Charlie.” I sigh, getting to the real reason why I take it out on Bronson. It’s not like the kid does anything wrong, he’s just not the prospect I want to be barking at every day.
My dad’s face settles. “I know he’s not. But he’s a damn good prospect, and you’ll fuck up a good member if you don’t teach him or get on a mutual ground with him.”
I nod. “Yeah, whatever. Is that was this is about? You call church to discuss my manners?”
My dad grinds his jaw in irritation. “No, son. And drop the attitude before I make your face match Bronson’s.”
I stub my cigarette out in the ashtray and sit back in the chair, folding my arms across my chest.
“We needed to sit down and talk about the Mexicans.” My dad begins.
Interest piqued, I sit up and set my arms on the table. “What about them?” Instantly suspicious, worried, and my guard is raised.
He shakes his head. “Calm down. It’s not what you think. It’s actually been quiet down south. Word is they are still operating, but I haven’t seen or heard anything about their trafficking. Whether they have it under wraps for now or if they moved out of the game—which would seriously fucking surprise me—I don’t know. We’ll keep our eyes and ears open, but if they stay with their drugs and guns, we might be able to keep another war from happening.”
“But that’s not all.” Pascal says as he sits forward. “A little ripple in the water from Russia makes me think they might be taking it over if the Mexicans decided to fold on the operation.”
My skins heats, from my neck up to my ears. “Fuck.”
“What are we going to do?” West asks, eyes wide.
