Chapter 12 #2
Rico shifted beside me, and I angled the phone away before he could get an eyeful. The last thing I needed was prospects drooling over what was mine.
"Just need to handle something quick," I managed, voice steadier than I felt.
My fingers moved across the keyboard with military efficiency:
There will be consequences for this, little girl.
Her response was almost instant:
Promise? ??
The peach emoji nearly undid my composure completely. She knew exactly what she was doing, the manipulative little minx. Sitting in my bed, touching herself, taunting me while I tried to plan her protection.
"As I was saying," I pocketed the phone, refocusing through sheer will. "Cruz needs to understand Lena's under our protection. I say we pay him a visit. Trash his jewelry store, make it clear he's not welcome in our territory."
"Measured response," Duke approved, but his eyes lingered on me a beat too long. "Sends a message without escalating to bloodshed. Yet."
"Exactly. Quick, efficient, just enough damage to make our point." My mind was already splitting between tactical planning and creative punishments for bratty girls who sent dirty pictures during church.
"Take Rico and Johnnie," Duke ordered, nodding to the prospects. "They need the experience, and three should be enough for a jewelry store."
"Copy that." I was already moving, eager to handle this and get back to handling Lena. "We'll head out now, catch him during business hours. More impact if customers see it happen."
"Tyson." Duke's voice stopped me at the door. "You good? You seem . . . distracted."
The weight of his stare pressed between my shoulder blades. Duke missed nothing, filed everything away. How long before he connected dots I couldn't afford him to see?
"Just want this handled," I said, which wasn't a lie. "Don't like threats to our people going unanswered."
"Our people," he repeated slowly. "Right. Keep me posted."
I nodded, escaping before he could dig deeper.
Rico and Johnnie fell in behind me, eager puppies ready for their first real action.
They had no idea what we were walking into, but my instincts were already pinging.
Something about those photos of Cruz's meetings, the careful body language, the way he'd shown no fear at the shop . . .
"Bikes or truck?" Rico asked as we hit the parking lot.
"Truck," I decided. Easier to exit if things went sideways, and something told me they might. "Tool bag in the back?"
"Always," Johnnie confirmed.
Good. Sledgehammers and crowbars would send the right message. Quick, loud, destructive. In and out before local cops could respond. I'd done this dance before, knew the steps by heart.
What could go wrong?
My phone buzzed again as I climbed into the driver's seat.
Another message from Lena, but I didn't look.
Couldn't look, not with prospects in the truck and a job to handle.
She'd been testing boundaries all morning, pushing to see how far she could go.
The brat clearly needed a firm hand, needed to be reminded who was in charge.
Soon, I promised myself. Handle Cruz, then handle Lena. Show them both what happened when they pushed too far.
The engine roared to life, and I pointed us toward Sunview. Forty minutes to plan, to strategize, to compartmentalize the arousal still thrumming through my veins from that photo. Forty minutes to transform from Lena's Daddy into the Heavy Kings' enforcer.
The prospect in the passenger seat was explaining to Johnnie how to properly swing a sledgehammer for maximum damage. I half-listened, the other half of my mind calculating exactly how red I was going to make Lena's ass for this stunt.
Measured response, Duke had said.
I'd give them both measured responses. Cruz would get his store destroyed.
And Lena? Lena would get exactly what she'd been begging for.
C ruz's jewelry store sat pretty on Main Street like a glass tomb, all gleaming surfaces and staged elegance.
I killed the engine half a block down, tactical instincts already pinging.
Something felt off about the setup—too quiet for a Tuesday afternoon, no customers visible through the pristine windows, the OPEN sign hanging crooked like someone had flipped it in a hurry.
"Sledgehammers?" Rico asked, already reaching for the tool bag.
"Hold up." I scanned the street, cataloging exits and obstacles. Narrow alley on the left, wider service road on the right. Three cars parked out front, two more in the employee section. Math that didn't add up for a single-owner operation. "Something's not right."
"Want to abort?" Johnnie's voice carried nerves barely masked by bravado.
"Negative. Just means we go in smart." I unbuckled my seatbelt, hand checking the piece at my waist. "Rico, you're on the door. Johnnie, watch the street. I'll have a conversation with Mr. Cruz first."
They nodded, prospects eager to follow orders even into uncertain territory. Good kids, but green. I should have brought Tank or Thor, someone with experience reading threats. But hindsight was a luxury I couldn't afford now.
The door chimed our entrance with expensive subtlety.
Inside, the air conditioning hit like walking into a freezer, all that glass and marble amplifying the artificial chill.
Display cases lined the walls, engagement rings and tennis bracelets winking under halogen spots.
The kind of place that whispered money while screaming insecurity.
"Be right with you!" Cruz's voice floated from the back room, casual as Sunday morning.
Too casual. My hand stayed near my piece as he emerged, but instead of fear or surprise, his face split into a satisfied smile.
"Wondered how long it'd take," he said, adjusting his cuffs like we were having drinks instead of a confrontation. "The infamous Heavy Kings."
"You've got one chance to stay out of Ironridge," I kept my voice level, professional. "This is your only warning."
"Warning?" He laughed, the sound echoing off all that glass. "That’s so cute."
Movement in my peripheral vision. The back room door opened wider, and my worst suspicions crystallized into reality.
Serpents cuts emerged first—two of them, hands casual but ready.
Behind them, unfamiliar faces with that particular stillness that screamed cartel.
Five men to our three, and we were already inside the kill box.
"Boys?" I called without looking back, letting them know the situation had shifted.
"See, I've made new friends," Cruz continued, moving behind the counter like it was a podium. "Friends who appreciate my . . . connections. My understanding of certain markets. Your club thinks you own these towns, but times are changing."
"Las Cruces?" I recognized the tattoos now, the specific way they held themselves. Not just any cartel, but one already allied with the Serpents. The worst possible combination.
"Smart man." Cruz's mask slipped for a moment, showing the obsession writhing beneath. "They needed a legitimate business for certain transactions. I needed muscle to reclaim what's mine. Everyone wins."
"This about Lena?" I kept my voice steady even as I calculated angles, distances, reaction times.
"Everything's about Lena." The words came out raw, possessive in a way that made my trigger finger itch. "But this is bigger now. Business opportunities. Territory expansion. Your club's in the way of progress."
One of the Serpents shifted, jacket opening just enough to show the grip of a sawed-off. The cartel soldiers hadn't moved at all, but their presence was threat enough. We were outnumbered, outgunned, and trapped in a glass box with too many angles to cover.
"Prospects," I said quietly. "Back toward the door. Slow."
They obeyed without question, training overriding their instinct to fight. Good. Last thing I needed was dead prospects on my conscience because I'd underestimated Cruz's connections.
"Leaving so soon?" Cruz asked, but he wasn't stupid enough to push it. Not yet. This was about sending a message, not starting a war in broad daylight.
"You've chosen your side. That's on you." I backed toward the door, keeping my body between the threats and my prospects.
"Oh, before you go." His smile turned sharp, anticipatory. "Hope the wedding goes well. Thor and Mandy, right? Would hate for anything to . . . disrupt the celebration."
Ice flooded my veins. The wedding. He knew about the fucking wedding.
"Beautiful venue. So many access points. So many opportunities for . . . reconnection." His eyes glittered with malice. "Maybe I'll finally get to give Lena that wedding present I've been saving."
Every instinct screamed to put a bullet between his eyes. To end this here, witnesses be damned. But the math didn't work. Not with prospects to protect, not with cartel soldiers ready to turn this into a bloodbath.
"This isn't over," I promised, hand on the door.
"No," Cruz agreed, surrounded by his new army like a king holding court. "It's just beginning. Give Lena my love. Tell her I'll see her soon."
We backed out onto the street, movements controlled despite the adrenaline flooding my system. Into the truck, doors locked, engine starting smooth despite my hands wanting to shake. I pulled out slow, normal, just another Tuesday afternoon in Sunview.
"Holy shit," Rico breathed once we'd cleared the main drag. "Was that—did we just—"
"Call Duke," I ordered, tossing him my phone. "Tell him the Serpents and Las Cruces are in bed together. Tell him it’s all about the wedding."
"But—"
"Now, prospect."
He made the call while I drove, mind racing through implications. The cartel meant drugs, weapons, a level of violence we'd managed to avoid. The Serpents meant old grudges and territorial disputes. Together, they meant war.
And in the middle of it all, Thor's wedding. Lena in a purple bridesmaid dress. Civilians and family and a thousand opportunities for bloodshed.
My phone buzzed with another message from Lena, but I couldn't look. Not now. Not when I needed every brain cell focused on the threat assessment, on protecting what mattered.
First, though, I'd deal with my bratty girl who had no idea how much danger had just landed on our doorstep.
I had a stop to make at an electronics store. Had to buy some equipment to upgrade the security at Lena’s apartment. And I needed a way to keep track of her if we got separated.
But after that, the consequences she'd begged for were about to get very, very real.
T he door closed behind me with a click that echoed like a gunshot in my skull. Every nerve still fired from the confrontation at Cruz's store, adrenaline mixing with rage until my hands shook with the need to hit something. Preferably Cruz's face. Repeatedly.
But first, Duke needed intel. I pulled out my phone, thumb hovering over his contact, when movement in my peripheral vision made me freeze.
"Welcome home, Daddy."
Lena's voice floated from the kitchen, honey-sweet and full of trouble. I turned slowly, phone forgotten, and my brain short-circuited completely.
She was bent over the kitchen table. Naked.
Glistening between her thighs like she'd been playing for a while.
Purple hair spilled across the worn wood, and she hadn't even turned to look at me, just presented herself like an offering.
Like she hadn't been sending me filthy pictures while I tried to keep her safe from men who wanted to own her.
"Did you miss me?" she continued, wiggling her ass in a way that made my vision narrow to a pinpoint.
Fuck Duke. Fuck the call. Fuck everything except the bratty girl who'd deliberately pushed every button I had.
I crossed the room in three strides, hand tangling in that purple chaos before she could straighten. She gasped as I pulled her upright, her back colliding with my chest, my arm banding around her waist to keep her pinned.
"You've been very bad," I growled against her ear, feeling her shiver at the dominance bleeding into my voice. "Sending pictures during church. Disobeying direct orders."
"Oh no," she whispered, pressing her ass back against my already-hard cock. The little minx knew exactly what she was doing. "Anything but consequences."
"You think this is a game?" The words came out rougher than intended, colored by the knowledge of what waited outside our door. "Teasing me when I'm trying to keep you safe?"
She must have heard something in my voice because she stilled, the playful attitude shifting. "Maybe I like riling you up," she admitted, breathless but with an edge of real emotion. "Maybe I wanted you thinking about me instead of playing tough guy."
"I'm always thinking about you." The admission tore from somewhere deep, somewhere I'd been trying to ignore. "That's the fucking problem."
"How is that a problem—oh!"
I spun her to face me, lifting her onto the table in one smooth motion.
Her legs fell open automatically, and I stepped between them, caging her with my body.
This close, I could see the flush spreading down her chest, the way her pupils had blown wide, the slight tremble in her hands as she gripped the table edge.
"Because when I'm distracted by images of you touching yourself, I'm not focused on threats." My hands framed her face, forcing her to meet my eyes. "And babygirl, the threats just got bigger."
The playfulness drained from her expression completely. "What happened?"
"Later." I couldn't think about Cruz and his cartel friends right now. Not with her naked and willing and mine. "Right now, we're dealing with your punishment."
Her throat worked as she swallowed. "I thought you'd forget about that."
"I never forget." My thumb traced her lower lip, feeling how her breath quickened at the touch. "And you're going to learn what happens when you disobey me."
"Yes, Daddy." The submission in her voice went straight to my cock. This complicated, fierce woman trusting me enough to let go, to accept consequences, to give me control when everything else felt like chaos.
"Good girl. Now, let's discuss these consequences..."