PROLOGUE
Indiana
I glance into the mirror,running my hands down my beard as my old lady holds a razor up and my brothers stand behind her, chanting, “Shave, shave, shave, shave.”
I narrow my eyes at them through the glass and sneer. “Assholes.”
“Babe, don’t be a sore loser,” Zoey admonishes me. “You’re the one who made the bet, you lost, and now you have to pay the price for it.”
Twisting my neck, I peer down into her eyes and ask, “Whose side are you on anyway, woman?”
“The right side,” she banters. “If you don’t follow through with this, what is that teaching Elodie?”
“Don’t do that, you brat. Don’t use our daughter against me,” I deplore.
“Stop being a chicken shit, Indiana,” Riptide says, taunting me.
“Bock. Bock, bock, bock,” LoneStar blurts, mimicking a chicken, his execution a poor substitute if anyone were to ask my opinion. He sucks. He lacks finesse with it, he needs a better follow through.
“Fuck you all,” I mumble as I lift the scissors and begin trimming the excess hair so that when I go to shave, my hair doesn’t get caught in the blades and dull it—it hurts like a sonofabitch whenever it tugs and pulls the roots from their pores.
“Shouldn’t have gone up against Renegade, Indiana. He’s the road captain for a reason and knows these streets like the back of his hand,” Slayer reminds me, his tone giddy making me wish I could karate chop his Adam’s apple without paying a penalty for it. Naturally, as the VP, he’s covered and the guys would kick my ass if I were to live out that fantasy. These assholes are enjoying this far more than they should. “If he says his way is quicker, you shouldn’t argue with him that he’s wrong.”
“But they’re doing construction down the route he wanted to take, I thought it was a sure bet,” I grumble, cutting a chunk of my beard off. Tears want to form in my eyes as I watch the gathered chunk float down to the floor, but I’m a man so I hold them off. I refuse to show any sort of weakness because my brothers will pounce on it and use it against me. I’ll have my breakdown later when I don’t have an audience. I worked years to grow it, and I saw a barber once a week to keep it neatly cut and tidy.
Zoey, reading my thoughts, giggles, “Think of the money you’re going to save not having to go to Stanley and have it trimmed.”
“Do y’all have to stand here and watch me like a bunch of stalkers?” I ask, already irritated by the snickering and wolf calls.
“You bet your sweet ass we do,” Renegade remarks, leaning against the hall wall with his arms crossed over his barreled chest. He’s the only one, up until now, that hasn’t said a peep or antagonized me, and he’s the one I made the bet with in the first place, so out of everyone, he should be the only one here witnessing his victory and my downfall.
Blowing out a heated breath, I continue chopping off one of the favorite parts of me. My beard and my dick are on the top of the list of things I like about myself, I’m just glad one of those things aren’t removable.
When Zoey and I walk through the doors of our house a couple of hours later, Elodie jumps up to greet us from her sprawled out position on the floor where she was watching cartoons. Her babysitter, Giana, a neighborhood teenager who’s Icer approved, stands up to follow our daughter with wide eyes, and if I’m not mistaken, a snicker. When I come into Elodie’s full sight of view, after sidestepping her mother who I’m still sore with since she didn’t have my back the way I would have had hers under similar circumstances, squints her eyes at me and slowly turns her head sideways, her eyes never leaving me.
Elodie, my princess, plants her hands on her hips and asks, “What happened to you, Daddy?”
I send an accusatory look at Zoey before telling my little angel the truth. “Your uncles and Mama ganged up on me and made me do it.”
“Mama!” Elodie gasps.
“He made a bet and he lost,” Zoey explains, smacking me with the back of her hand in the gut, stealing my breath and making me hunch over. “He’s being a sore loser,”” Zoey tattles.
Elodie, my little protector, holds out her hand, issuing an order, “Hand me your phone, Daddy.”
Without thought or asking any questions, I slide it out of my pocket and place it in her hand. “What’cha doing, Pumpkin?” I probe as her fingers glide across the keyboard.
“Calling Uncle Icer. I’m not happy,” Elodie complains. My beard isn’t only special to me, it is to our baby girl as well. Whenever she isn’t feeling good or just needs a good cuddle, she’ll crawl into my arms and comb her fingers through it. “Don’t worry, Daddy, I’ll take care of this. Like you always say, payback is a bitch.”
“Elodie! Language,” Zoey scolds. Then, squaring her eyes on me, she continues her beratement, “This is your influence, Indiana. I’m going to start charging you for every swear word that comes out of your lips.” While she gets onto me, her eyes stay focused on Elodie as she escapes, ignoring her mother’s outburst.
“You could try,” I singsong, chasing Elodie down the hallway with a pep in my step.
“Uncle Icer,” I hear my girl growl. “I’m not a happy camper and I need you to fix it.” A smile forms on my face as I stand back and let my girl rope Icer into a little payback.
This is going to be epic!
CHAPTER
