Chapter 2 #2
Lucy looks toward the ceiling. “Lord, give me the strength to deal with this cocky asshole today. Amen.” She nods then looks back at me.
“He told me instead of looking at it like I don’t know what to do because I had shitty parents, look at it like I know what not to do.
I have plenty of examples of what horrible parenting looks like, so I need to do the opposite.
It may not be perfect, but it certainly won’t be as bad or worse. ”
“Do the opposite?” I ask with a speculative tone.
“Yup,” Lucy replies. “You don’t want to be the type of parent who runs off? Then stick around. You don’t want to be a drunk asshole? Then put the bottle down. Put her needs above yours, whatever that looks like for the both of you.”
“Sounds easy,” I say.
“I’m no expert, but I have a feeling if it was, then anyone would be good at it.
And you and I both know that’s not the case,” she says, standing from her seat.
“I’m going to get a bite of whatever Cece is baking.
Hopefully, it’s turnovers. The baby is craving them.
Ohh, maybe she made me some cinnamon rolls, too.
” Before she steps past the bar, there’s a loud commotion coming from outside the compound gate.
A horn is blaring and shouting can be heard from inside the clubhouse.
“Lucy, behind the bar,” Jude commands.
I rush to the other side of the bar as well and grab one of the guns we have holstered under the counter, as Jude and Lucy grab their own.
Since the attack on the clubhouse nearly two decades ago, our former president, Trick, made sure that there were weapons hidden and spread throughout the clubhouse.
We haven’t changed a thing since his son Ozzy became president, and considering the trouble we had with the Bone Breakers—and now some Russians from New York—I’m damn glad we haven’t.
The kitchen door swings open, and Cash stands with a gun in hand. “What the fuck is going on?”
“I don’t know. Who’s manning the gate?” I ask.
The prospect who was helping with the food calls out, “Danny.”
The door swings open, and all of us point our guns at the prospect who’s frantically looking around.
When his eyes land on me, he swallows hard. “There’s a woman outside, and she’s fucking pissed, man. She’s demanding you get your ass out there—her words, not mine—or she’s going to ram through the fucking gate and drag you out by your balls—again, her words, not mine.”
“Scorned lover?” Lucy asks, relaxing her stance.
“I told her if she wanted to leave a message with me, she could, but that you don’t usually do repeats, especially for women who show up unannounced.” Danny has a sheepish look on his face. “She didn’t appreciate that very much. That’s when the honking and the yelling started.”
Jude barks out a laugh.
“She say what her name is?” I ask the nervous-looking prospect.
“Camryn Fuller,” he answers.
“Shit. That’s Sydney’s aunt.” It sounds pretty on par with my memories of her.
“Well, that explains why Sydney was so cagey about where she was staying and who we should call to make sure she was safe. Sounds like Auntie didn’t know she took off in the middle of the night,” Lucy comments, sliding her gun back into the holster behind the bar.
“I’ll take care of this,” I say as I start walking toward the door.
Of course, the busybodies—my brothers and their women—follow me out to the parking lot.
On the other side of the fence is a very pissed-off woman with long auburn hair sitting in her car.
Even from here, I can see fire burning in her blue gaze as she glares at me.
She steps out of the black sedan she’s driving and slams her door shut, walking straight to the other side of the closed gate.
The years have been good to Miss Camryn Fuller.
She was always a beautiful girl, but she had a mouth that could cut a man to pieces and an attitude that matched.
Typical rich bitch. Her sister wasn’t much nicer, but she used her mouth for other things that weren’t as offensive—or more offensive, depending on how you look at it.
“Barrett O’Neil, you’d better bring my niece out here this second, or I’m ramming through that clubhouse of yours and finding her my damn self.”
I nod toward Danny to punch in the code to the gate as I saunter toward Camryn, a grin playing on my mouth. “Hey, pup. Been a long time.”
She walks toward me, rage clear as day on her face.
What I also notice is how her skintight denim shows off curves she didn’t have when we were younger.
With her hair blowing wildly in the breeze and her eyes shooting daggers at me, she looks like a furious goddess.
Everything about this woman screams she has every intention of following through on the threats she spewed moments ago.
And I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t get my blood pumping a little harder.
“Not long enough, asshole. And my name is Camryn.” She spears my prospect with one of her signature don’t-fuck-with-me looks. “Not sweetie or honey.” Then she graces me with the same cold stare she’s always used with me. “Definitely not pup. Camryn. Now, where the hell is Sydney?”