He looks at Cyber. “What else?”
Cyber glances down at the table and runs a hand through his messy hair. “Nothing. That’s all I’ve got.”
Tacoma rises from his chair, plants his hands on the table, and roars. “Fucking find something!”
Everyone seated around the table sits up taller in their chairs. My brother is the most laid-back motherfucker on the planet but when you fuck with his woman or his kids, the gloves come off, and he’ll show you exactly why he’s the president of the Kings of Anarchy.
“Find something,” he repeats on a growl.
Cyber nods his head, sliding his tablet back into his bag.
“Gator’s got our visitors on ice. Let’s go.”
With that, my brother bangs the gavel, and we head for the door.
As I follow Tacoma through the common room, I catch sight of Frankie and Foxy laughing at the bar.
“Fuck.” That can’t be good.
Changing direction, I stalk towards the women.
Feeling me coming, Frankie lifts her head. “Are you done?”
I shake my head. “Not yet, baby.” My eyes go to the tumbler of amber liquid in her hand. “Thought you weren’t old enough to drink?”
She shrugs and takes a sip, grimacing at the burn. “I wanted to try it.”
I grunt. Lots of firsts for my baby today. “I’ll be back,” I tell her, dropping a kiss on her forehead. “Don’t leave the clubhouse.”
She sighs. “Fine.”
Tacoma stops to speak to Foxy, who’s already on her feet. “I’ll be back,” he tells her.
“Fuck no,” she snaps. “I’m coming with you. Those assholes tried to take my girl.”
I watch my brother’s face soften, but he shakes his head. “This is club business, Foxy.”
I can tell it’s killing her to be sidelined, but she’s a good ol’ lady and reluctantly accepts her man’s word as law.
“Fine, baby,” she finally says. “But you better make them fucking bleed.”
Tacoma grins. “Promise.” He kisses her again before leading us out the door.
“You’re so fucking pussy whipped,” I mutter as we cross the compound.
“It’s that voodoo pussy,” he shoots back with a smirk.
I grunt, thinking that must be what my woman has too—voodoo pussy. It’s the only explanation for why I’m so fucking hooked after just one taste.
All thoughts of Frankie’s pussy vanish at the sight of Gator standing guard at the shed door.
“They talking yet?” Tacoma asks as we approach.
Gator shakes his head. “Nah. Been waiting for you.”
The club’s enforcer steps aside, and we file into the darkened space.
In the center of the room, two men hang from the rafters by their wrists, their toes barely touching the ground. Their faces are swollen and bloody, but I recognize them as the fuckers from the store.
