I stood at the door leading out of church and tipped my head side to side as I cracked the joints in my neck. I pushed the door open and came face-to-face with the fist of Braesal O’Malley.
My head snapped back and my ass hit the floor seconds before my head cracked against the floor. I heard a woman scream, assuming it was a club whore. O’Malley wouldn’t bring Morgan with him when he fucked me over. I lay there for a minute, waiting for the stars to dissipate.
“O’Malley,” I said, my eyes still closed. “I see your daughter finally told you the truth.” I struggled to sit up. B and Ambush each grabbed an arm and lifted me from the floor.
“Don’t you fuckin’ talk about my daughter, you piece of shit.”
The man who stood behind Morgan’s father grinned. It wasn’t a teasing grin. It wasn’t a‘you fucked up now’kind of grin. It was more a‘wait until I get my fucking hands on you’kind of grin.
“Does your son know you’re here?”
With any luck, King might let his father beat the shit out of me and go home to Nebraska. I knew it was a pipe dream, but a guy had to have hope. I sized up O’Malley, knowing I could take him, despite the cheap shot of catching me unaware.
“My son is the only reason you aren’t lying on the floor with a fuckin’ bullet in your head,” he snarled.
As I thought about what that meant, he raised his arm and hit me again. This time Ambush was there to catch me before I hit the ground.
O’Malley stepped forward and got in my face. “You stay the fuck away from my daughter or not even my son will save your ass.”
He got in one more cheap shot to my gut that had me doubled over. I couldn’t help but smile; at least now I knew who had taught Morgan how to hit.
O’Malley glared at my VP and then turned to the other guy. He stood cracking his knuckles, his eyes on me. When he stepped forward, I tried not to wince. I deserved this beatdown for what I’d done to Morgan, but I still wondered why my men hadn’t stepped in.
The man stared me down, and I wondered when he would take his shot. When he smiled and took a step back, my shoulders relaxed, and I let down my guard.
That was a fucking mistake!
The man was smart; he waited until I let my guard down, and then he struck. My head snapped back; I felt my nose crack for the third time in three fucking days. Then my ass hit the floor.
I heard the front door slam shut, but I didn’t try to move. I wouldn’t try to sit until my head stopped pounding and my ears stopped ringing. Maybe I’d just sleep on this fucking floor tonight.
“You okay, Prez?”
I opened one eye and found B and Ambush staring down at me. I slid my hand to the back of my head, then brought it to my face, looking for blood. It was a miracle my head hadn’t busted open.
“You need help getting up?” B asked, and I glared at him.
“Now you want to fucking help me?!”
B and Ambush both grabbed my arms a second time and lifted me to my feet. They helped me over to the bar, and I sat on a stool. Brian was there waiting with an ice pack.
I placed the bag of ice against the back of my head and leaned my elbows on the bar.
“Where the fuck was everyone?” I looked around at the few men present. “I said to make sure they were fucking armed,” I ground out low, trying not to aggravate the pounding in my head.
I looked at B when no one answered. He rubbed the back of his neck, and I turned to Ambush, who stood beside him with his arms crossed over his wide chest.
“Well?”
“King called me. He gave me a heads-up that O’Malley was on his way here and told us not to interfere,” B explained quickly.
“And if he fucking killed me?” I asked, not believing what I was hearing.
“King promised that wouldn’t happen.” Ambush shrugged as if whatever the fuck King said was written in fucking stone.
I stood from the stool and shouted, “I AM YOUR FUCKING PRESIDENT!” I winced and fell back onto my seat, replacing the ice against the back of my head.
“King is the national president now,” B explained as if I didn’t fucking know that. As if that was all he needed to say about why my men didn’t have my fucking back.
