I didn’t have the energy to make any comments about how I felt. The conversation died there, and we continued on our way to dad’s office. When I heard groaning, my steps faltered. A low breathy sound followed by a feminine giggle stopped me dead in my tracks.
“Oh hell no,” I balked.
Warren laughed and pulled my arm. “Relax, it isn’t King. He doesn’t do that here.”
“I don’t care whether he does or not. What the hell is wrong with you people? It’s disgusting.”
He shook his head and took my hand, leading me to the last door in the dark hallway, away from the sounds coming from what I presumed was a closet.
“Just be grateful it isn’t happening out here,” Warren smirked, making me shudder. “It’s no fun squeezing through tight quarters when a brother has his bare ass-”
I slapped my palm over his mouth to shut him up. He laughed behind my hand, then licked it.
“Ew,” I pushed him, and he hit the wall, laughing hysterically. I slapped his arm, but he grabbed me, squeezing me in a bear hug from behind, then his fingers dug into my side, tickling me. I screeched as I tried to get away from him. He always used his size to his advantage. At five ten, I was no slouch for a girl, but my brother was well over six feet of hard muscle.
“Warren, stop!” I tried to shout, but it came out a muffled mixture of laughter and pain. “Your bony ass fingers hurt.”
“Yell Uncle.”
“Never,” I shouted, getting an arm free and elbowing him in the gut. He huffed out a breath, but he was humoring me. I couldn’t dislodge the giant moron. But I knew a few tricks, I went limp, like a dead weight and he lost his grip on me, then I swung around and hit him in the side with a solid upper cut, causing him to bend, his breath whooshing out.
“Take that, fuck face,” I smirked.
“Are you two done?”
I froze at the voice behind me. Warren straightened up with a laugh as he hooked his arm round my neck. “You see that move?” he asked our father.
“I saw a girl get the drop on you, yes. You’re not ten years old anymore. Get your asses in here.”
I stared at my father’s retreating back, then glanced at Warren. Somehow, my father made an achievement seem like a disappointment. He was more concerned Warren allowed me to knock him off balance than me getting myself out of the situation.
Warren was trying to make me relax by acting like a big kid. What he didn’t get was it made me look worse. Now I’m still the kid my father thinks I am. Not a grown ass woman who’s looked after herself for the last five years fine without this club, or my family. I squared my shoulders and marched into his office, leaving Warren to follow.
Oliver ‘King’ Curtis was as scary as you would imagine the President of an outlaw motorcycle club to be. In his late fifties, he still looked fit and handsome. We both took after him in looks, though his dark hair was more grey, strong bone structure and dark brown eyes.
King always had a quiet, intense demeanor, rarely smiled, let alone cracked a joke. Given the title he held, the responsibility and the people he protected, not to mention the criminal empire he commanded in the Devil’s Chaos MC, he had little to smile about.
Would it hurt to show at least a little compassion to his children? I snorted at that thought. I’d stopped asking questions about our mother when I was nine, after he’d shouted so loud at me, I’d run to my room and not spoken to anyone for days. Not even Warren could coax me out.
Eventually it was Connor who brought me back from my depression and, for the first time, the fear of my father.
I’d asked about seeing Connor last night and Warren promised I would, although he hadn’t elaborated on what happened. All I knew was Connor had his own place away from the compound and I would see him after an appointment with his doctor tomorrow.
King went behind the enormous desk that took up most of the office, like he was some kind of businessman. He dropped heavily into the chair, the leather of his cut creaking as he moved. I always wondered why the guys never replaced their cuts, no matter how gross they got.
Warren was appalled when I asked about getting a new one after it got blood on it. He took care of his cut like it was a baby, loved it as much as he loved his bike. Another thing I would never understand about these men.
“Sit,” King barked, indicating Warren and me to the chairs facing his desk.
I contemplated disregarding his order. I was not a dog. But there was no point trying to win that battle. We both sat, Warren with his legs spread wide and elbows on the wooden armrests, his fingers laced onhis stomach, while I leant back and crossed my legs. I stared at my dad, wondering if time had softened him any. He stared back and I couldn’t read what was going through his head.
The room was brightly lit, which somehow didn’t feel right for his presence. There was a giant metal safe in the far corner, the kind you would need TNT to blow the door off if you didn’t have the key. It looked like something from the Wild West era and had been in this room for as long as I could remember. There were houseplants on a shelf near the window. They were vibrant and alive. I wasn’t sure who was looking after them, unable to believe it was the man in front of me.
I waited him out. He would expect me to be flipping out or come in yelling and screaming. But I’d gotten all of that out of my system with Warren and Hudson back home. Not to mention, watching how everyone laughed their asses off at the two women fighting. It was clear being an irrational or emotional female wouldn’t get me anywhere. No matter what he said, it wouldn’t be good for me. I needed to contain that.
I’d already accepted I’m here for the short term. It was in my best interests to keep as clear a head as possible.
No,dear old dadwas going to explain himself tome.
