I flip him off. “She wasn’t screaming.” She had a gag in her mouth.
Journey chuckles. “The girl’s got balls, I’ll tell ya that. She tried to take his head off with a baseball bat.”
I rub at my cheek, a grin pulling at my lips. She sure as fuck did.
“She hot?” Bash asks with a shit-eating grin on his face.
Journey shrugs. “She’s young. Nineteen or twenty, maybe? But yeah, I guess if you’re into the nerdy type, she’s alright.”
My jaw clenches, and I shoot Bash a look. “Stay the fuck away from her.”
All eyes come to me, and suddenly the room erupts into laughter.
My brows snap together. “What the fuck’s so funny?”
Pop opens his mouth to speak, but Tacoma holds up his hand. “No, wait. Let’s see if he can figure it out.”
I play back the conversation in my head, and like a bolt of lightning, it hits me.
I’m into the nerdy type. Frankie Hayes, with her oversized hoodie, hipster glasses, and messy bun, does it for me. I just stood there when she swung that Louisville Slugger at my head.
“Well fuck.”
The room explodes with laughter again.
Tacoma’s eyes go to Noble. “Go get the girl.”
The prospect leaves the room, and a few minutes later, there’s a knock at the door.
Bax rolls off the wall and opens it.
Foxy shoves Frankie into the room, and my little troublemaker stumbles forward, barely catching herself.
“Watch it!” she snaps, shooting Foxy a glare.
Foxy glances at me, rolling her eyes. “She tried to make a run for it in the hallway.”
Frankie grumbles something under her breath that I can’t quite make out, but it’s clear she’s not a fan of Tacoma’s ol’ lady.
Unable to stop myself, I grin. My girl’s got a bad attitude that makes my dick hard.
My girl?
No. Nope, Hell fucking no. Not my girl. She might be hot, but she ain’t shit to me. She’s my prisoner—the thief who stole my money.
Shrugging her shoulders, Foxy shoots Frankie an apologetic smile as she saunters over to my brother and drops down into his lap. “Sorry, honey. It ain’t personal, but this is my family.”
My brother pats her thigh, a soft look on his face. The sentiment and her fierce devotion to the Kings mean everything to him.
“Get your bitch under control,” he growls when Frankie opens her mouth to no doubt talk more shit.
My chair screeches against the concrete floor as I shove away from the table.
Frankie’s big doe eyes jump to mine at the sound, and her body tenses.
Good. She should be nervous.
“A fight with Foxy is a fight you won’t win, troublemaker,” I say low, grabbing her arm and marching her over to my chair. Dropping down into my seat, I yank her into my lap.
