“Damn right it is,” I said. “Cute little thing still a cute fucking little thing. And—”
I paused for a second. I hadn’t noticed it at first because I was thinking too much about tearing that girl’s jacket off and getting to her tits. But where she was shooting…
It was right in front of the damn clubhouse!
I pivoted where I stood and stomped to the doorway, determined to say a few things to that cock-sucking mouth. I had never met a reporter that had given us anything other than bad press. I was not sorry that in a world full of PC pussies, soft-ass boys, and screaming people that I was unwilling to conform to their games of crying and sadness.
“Satan!”
Just before I got to the door, fucking Spawn got in between me and the door. I cocked an eyebrow at him. As my SAA, Spawn more or less did what I said, and rare was the moment that he questioned me. Almost nonexistent was the moment that he outright defied me.
Suffice to say, this was fucking unexpected.
“You got one sentence to tell me why the fuck I shouldn’t bash your skull in and use it to open the door to the front.”
“You would only make bad press,” he said. “We do best laying low and living our lives.”
I folded my arms and fucking fumed. The last sentence was something I told our prospects and members whenever they got pissed off that we didn’t have a bigger presence in the Phoenix area. I knew some clubs in some places like to make themselves as much a part of the town as the local government, but for fuck’s sake, we were named “Devil’s Patriots,” not “Phoenix Piss Catchers.”
“I fucking hate your sorry ass, Spawn,” I scowled, but I moved over to a nearby window and glared out.
Sure enough, the hot bitch was standing in front of a camera crew and a news station van, occasionally gesturing to the clubhouse while she spoke. If she noticed me glaring—gawking?—at her out the window, she didn’t fucking show it. I suppose that made her a professional, but I didn’t much care how professional she was as much as how her pussy might feel.
I couldn’t even say why I was so fucking attracted to this girl. I had plenty of girls her age, plenty of girls with nice racks, nice asses…maybe it was just the ability to say I’d landed a reporter. I hadn’t done that before.
“Sure would be fucking nice,” I murmured to myself.
“Stay inside,” Spawn said.
I looked at him, smirked, and chuckled.
“It’s a special day of hell freezing over when you’re the goddamn voice of reason, Spawn.”
Some club members nearby laughed, half genuinely enjoying the joke, half trying to suck up to me. Fuck it, long as they did their job, they could suck my cock for all I care.
I looked back out the window. The girl—Hannah, was it? Hailey? Bailey? Did it fucking matter?—had dropped her mic, and everyone else around her was packing up.
“She sure is a treat,” one of the club members named Road said.
I shot a look at him. He knew he’d made a mistake immediately.
“Everyone!”
Some of the still-hungover fucks groggily awoke. They didn’t move from the couch so much as they did just give signs of life.
“Let me make one fucking thing clear here right now,” I said. “If anyone goes near that girl, it is only so they can bring her to me. I am the only one that is getting my dick wet with her. I don’t fucking care if she’s an ex of any of you assholes. I’m going to be the only one drilling that bitch. Understood?”
“Yes, Satan,” everyone said immediately.
I’d made my point. The guys on the couch probably had no fucking idea which girl I was talking about. The ones who were awake and moving about would make it a point to get my orders through. No one in the club was ever left uncertain as to what the fuck was going on, that was for damn sure.
I made my way back to one of the bars to resume cleaning up when I heard a sound that put everyone who was alert, and even some of the hungover asses, on standby—motorcycles approaching.
Anyone who was a member of the Devil’s Patriots had come here last night with strict instructions to leave their keys here. It was less a move to prevent drunken driving as it was to make sure no one pussed out on the party. We weren’tthataltruistic.
“Who the fuck now?” I growled. “Someone else wants to get their ass beat, huh?”
Sonny and Spawn didn’t say a word. They knew my temper was shortest in the morning.
