But still, Honey was all of sixteen years old.
“She’s making porn?” I asked without opening my eyes, hating the visuals.
“Not yet, Farrah called Dad demanding he deal with it,” King replied, an edge to his voice like a serrated knife.
“She’s not even his kid,” Nova spoke for the first time.
“Still, family’s family and she’s a fuckin’ kid. Can’t have that in our town and ’sides, I wouldn’t mind takin’ those cunt Ventura’s down,” Dad said, and not for the first time I was reminded that heroes come in many different shapes and sizes, and just because Zeus Garro was an outlaw motorcycle club Prez with a rap sheet didn’t mean he was all kinds of good.
“Agreed,” King and I said at the same time, then grinned at each other.
“What’s the third thing?” Cress asked softly.
Dad looked at Cress then at me and his face went blank. “Berserkers MC approached about partnerin’. I rejected the idea straight out. They didn’t take it so well.”
“How the fuck else did they think somethin’ that stupid would fly with the club?” King asked, leaning forward to sit with his forearms braced on his knees.
“You didn’t know about this?” I asked, surprised that King wasn’t in the loop, especially now that he’d started prospecting.
He’d finally taken the plunge, but King had been a part of the club since he came out of our mother’s rotten womb.
“Haven’t been tellin’ me shit since I joined the club,” he muttered, but his eyes went pale with rage.
“’Cause you aren’t a full patched member yet and it’s important you fuckin’ feel that just like every other prospect does,” Dad said, his tone both irritated and bored like they’d had the same conversation a million times.
It made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end because Dad and King were never anything less than thick as thieves.
“That’s pretty bold play,” I said carefully. “You don’t think I have anything to do with it, do you?”
Dad lifted his steepled hands to his lips and studied me for a second. “Think I don’t want you around them even more than I already did ’fore this, that’s for fuckin’ sure. Reaper an’ me go back to ’fore he founded his club. Like to think it was a gesture, back in the day he wanted in The Fallen ad Crux turned ’im away. Could be simple as that.”
“How do you know they didn’t take it well then?”
His jaw clenched then ticked hard, but he didn’t say anything.
Loulou did, both her hands on her pregnant abdomen. “We don’t know who exactly, but someone’s made threats against me and the babies on behalf of that club.”
The oxygen in the room evaporated with a snap, and what followed was flat silence, not punctuated even with breath.
“You’re fucking kidding!” King shouted, standing up to pace. “You’re fucking kidding me.”
“That’s so fucked up,” Cressida said softly, her hand over her mouth.
It was a reaction that reminded me just how far she’d come from being an uptight, prim schoolmarm in the last five years, but how far she still was from being a real old lady or biker babe.
Because me?
Born and raised a biker bitch, formed from biker sperm and in a bitch’s womb?
My reaction wasn’t external, it bloomed in my heart like a bloody rose wrapped in poisonous thorns. My family was under threat and nothing in the world mattered so much as them, not even me.
So, I knew what I was going to do.
My vague inclination to take the Berserkers down had just solidified into something, long, and strong, and lethal, a flaming sword in my righteous hand.
I was going to end them.
Even if they never actually touched a hair on Loulou and the babies’ heads, they deserved to die just for the very thought of it.
Prison was too good for them, but it was a decent substitute for murder as long as every single member of that MC went down with the fucking ship.
“Everyone shut the hell up,” Dad ordered firmly over the clamor of King cursing, Nova and Lila arguing and Cress speaking softly to Lou. “Goes without fuckin’ sayin’, I should hope, that I’m not going to let one-fucking-thing touch a goddamn hair on Lou’s head or get within even a fuckin’ acre of her. That understood?” he waited for us to agree with chin tilts and nods before going on. “Good, then put it outta your minds.”
“Easier said than done,” Cress said softly, tears in her eyes as I stared at Lou.
“Love you, Loulou,” I told her but what I meant was, I loved her enough to get involved with the Berserkers MC again and take them down for her.
I walked out of the nursing building after my last class of the day to see a gaggle of students surrounding something in the parking lot. It happened sometimes at UBC, Vancouver was filled with wealthy families and the international students had to be very rich or very lucky to secure a spot at the school so it wasn’t unusual to see a Ferrari or Aston Martin in the parking lots on campus.
Personally, I didn’t give a fuck. My father owned the premier custom car and motorcycle garage on the west coast, I’d seen ’em all and then some.
So, I was moving passed quickly, already thinking about getting home to Hero and taking him for a walk, having defied Danner’s order to take him to class because it was straight up ridiculous. The MC would never harm me on campus grounds.
“Harleigh Rose,” the deepest voice I knew called out over the higher cries of student chatter.
I froze.
Then slowly, already reevaluating my affirmation that the Berserkers wouldn’t harm me on campus, I turned to face the group of students in the parking lot.
Wrath sat on his huge Harley Davidson, a soft tail slim with red and chrome accents, but I knew it wasn’t the bike that had drawn notice but the big ass, badass biker that went with it. His thick hair was kinked and waving in the wind, his permanent scowl affixed to his gorgeous face, and his big body doing that lean women loved where the whole length and muscled breadth of their body was on display.
I understood the crowd.
I didn’t even like the man and I wanted to get closer to catch a better glimpse of that beauty.
But I didn’t.
“Gotta get home, Wrath,” I called out with a flick of my fingers. “Catch ya later.”
“Why do ya think I’m here? Get on,” he said.
Fuck.
I didn’t want to. I wanted to go home, clean my gun, take Hero for a run, and study for my finals coming up in two weeks. But Wrath was technically my old man now, and we hadn’t had the time for us to work out the particulars.
Like the fact that I was not going to sleep with him.
I hefted my backpack over the other shoulder so it would be balanced on the bike and trudged over to him.
“Lookin’ sweet, H.R.,” he complimented me when I came to a stop with my hand on my hip in front of him.
I was hyper aware of our lingering crowd as I tossed my hair over my shoulder and popped a loud bubble with my original flavoured Hubba Bubba. “Wearin’ an old tee and jean shorts, Wrath, nothin’ to write home to your mummy about.”