“He can’t tell me to go.” Slasher, suddenly, was standing next to us, and I flinched. “And you can keep your money to yourself.”
My jaw hung low. “How did you get here so fast? Or hear anything I said?”
Fire blazed in his silver eyes. “By the way, I don’t claim to be his friend. Iamhis best friend. Shocking, isn’t it? How an elite like Professor Legend’s brother becomes friends with a gangster like me?”
“Slasher, c’mon. My sister doesn’t know anything.”
I cocked a brow. Why was Malcolm being nice to that jerk? “You might not be a gangster, Mister Slasher, but you are rude. So yes, I find it very hard to believe my brother is associated with you.”
“Vixen, please.”
“What? He’s…” My eyes fell on Malcolm’s chest, his leather vest and the patch on it. My heart skipped a beat as I stumbled back a step.
Malcolm lifted his hands in the air. “Hey. Don’t freak out. I can explain.”
“No.” I shook my head vigorously, uttering protesting sounds. “This can’t be.” I retreated and tripped on one of the logs. Squeaking, I felt strong hands on my back saving my butt.
“Watch your step, Professor,” said a voice I’d heard this morning. I glanced behind me and recognized the face. Mad Dog’s.
A devious smile painted his hard face. He looked a little different without the sunglasses. Eyes yellowish brown, amber to be exact. Strong cheekbones. Big nose. Big teeth and full lips.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
He held the eye contact. His arms wouldn’t let me go. “Nice to see you again so soon.”
I blinked. Then my brother cleared his throat. Mad Dog almost pushed me away from him and disappeared. I would have tripped again if Malcolm’s arms hadn’t steadied me.
Malcolm!
I glared at him and then at the asshole still standing beside him. The scent of alcohol combined with that of leather and sex filled the thick air. I glanced around, taking in the place. Bikes parked everywhere. Trash filled the front yard. Fire pits. Abandoned tires. This couldn’t be happening. “You have one minute to tell me how you became the Vice President of a motorcycle club, and why the hell its members live at our house.”
CHAPTER 8
MAD DOG
“Take this to Church,” Prez commanded and nodded at me to come with. Then he started for the porch.
Dasher grabbed his sister’s hand and tugged her across the front yard. They pushed open the front door. Her eyes widened as big as saucers when she took in the house and the brothers sprawled on the leather couches.
Let’s face it. We were no angels. We trashed the place, puked and fucked around every corner and never bothered to clean. If I had a nice family with a nice house like this one used to be and came to find it in this condition, I would be surprised and pissed, too.
I followed the three of them down the dark hallway, and then we entered Church.
Her blonde hair swung over her shoulders as her heels clacked on the hardwood floor, heading to a chair. I was thankful for the quick reminder of her curvy ass and long legs. I didn’t have a chance to take a closer look this morning or when she was in my arms about to hit the ground.
Standing a foot tall from her then, I did have a nice view of her tits, though. Fuck. If Dasher hadn’t nudged me, she would have definitely felt a nice hard-on poking her back.
That teacher was hot. Not patch whore hot, but mature sizzle that we didn’t get here. A real woman who didn’t need a man to tell her what to do or put cash in her bank. If she really was here to fill in for Joshua Asher and Isabella Ferro, I’d be damned. More than I already was.
I’d be in her class twice a week, hiding a boner, chanting aShe’s the VP’s sistermantra so I wouldn’t do something deadly stupid. Fuck you, Dasher. He was like a big brother to me, but I hated him today.
“A lot has happened since the last time we spoke, Sis,” Dasher said softly, closing the door.
“I can see that. When did you leave the army?” she asked, rounding the table, grabbing Prez’s chair. Oh, shit.
“Last year was my last tour. Could you take another seat?” Dasher said fast, his fingers scratching the back of his head.
“Why would I do that?” She ignored him and sat.
