His gray hair is roped into two braids coming out of his black leather skullcap. “Baby girl, you can be a club bunny for the Wild Hair starting right now.”
There’s a general whoop from other members.
My heart beats so hard that it’s throttling my throat. I suck in a breath. I should have known the other members would jump in. That’s the whole point of a bunny.
But then I’m pulled away. I’m hoping it’s Merrick, but I get a hefty sniff of something acrid, and I know it’s not.
Another man in a Wild Hair cut drags me toward him. He’s bear-sized, and even as tall as I am, I barely reach his chest. “Chain, you’re too damn old to break in this bunny. I’m going to take her.”
“I saw her first, Hoss,” Chain says, dragging me back. “Low Joe and I spotted her months ago and bought her a shot.”
Hoss pulls on me again. “We haven’t had a new bunny since I joined. If the prospect brought one in, I’m claiming her first. You can have the sloppy seconds.”
Hoss?ThenChain?
Oh God, God, God. What have I done?
Merrick steps forward. “She’s not going to be a club bunny. Back the fuck off.”
But he’s barely got the words out when Chain punches him straight in the jaw.
I duck out of the way and race across the room. I spot Diesel and dash straight for him.
He pulls me behind him, and Symphony wraps an arm around me as Merrick charges forward and tackles Chain.
“Should he do that?” Symphony asks, her voice shaking. “That man is really old, and Merrick could hurt him.”
“Fuck,” Diesel says. “My brother gets into some real shit these days.” He rushes toward the fight.
I duck my head. “I did it again.”
Symphony shushes me. “This is about them, not you. And look, Merrick is fighting for you. It’s what you wanted, right?”
Is it? Chain swings a chair at Merrick, but by then, Diesel is there and easily takes it from the old man.
But Hoss also wants in on the fight, and the oversized brute shoves Merrick so hard that he flies backward, landing on one of the tables with customers, sending drinks flying.
Diesel drops the chair, aiming to get between his brother and Hoss, when another huge, broad-shouldered man in a Wild Hair cut steps in front of Diesel. “This is club business.”
Diesel takes a step back.
Hoss approaches Merrick while he’s disentangling himself from the broken table. He punches Merrick right in the gut, then kicks him twice as Merrick scrambles to his feet.
It’s terrible to watch, but I’m afraid to look away. Despite what Merrick said about one percenters, will they kill him? What have I done?
When Merrick and Hoss face off again, the man who stopped Diesel holds out his hands and roars, “Enough.”
The bar goes quiet. Even the band quits playing.
The man turns to me. I suck in a breath. He’s muscled like nothing I’ve ever seen and wearing only his Wild Hair cut over a bare chest and black jeans.
“Come here,” he says.
Symphony stands in front of me, but a woman in a denim jacket that says “Property of the Wild Hair,” pulls her aside. “Go on, then,” she says to me. “When Iron Jack asks for you, you better go.”
I move forward with tremulous steps. As I get closer, I can read the patches on his chest. They read “President” and “Miami.”
So, he’s in charge.
