Chapter 7 #2
The family resemblance is unmistakable and I’m guessing Rent-A-Thug is one of Viking’s many sons that he’s brought along for added muscle—which doesn’t bode well for me. I glance away from the son and give my new father-in-law a broad grin.
“Evening, Viking.”
“I came to check on my daughter,” Viking snarls. “You left with her before we could say goodbye or give her the things she has packed.”
“Right. Like you care enough to actually wish her well. You basically sold her to the highest bidder.”
Viking shakes his head, a greasy, knowing smile forming on his disgusting face.
His daughter looks nothing like him, thank god.
She inherited nothing, but the misfortune of his last name.
It strikes me like a lightning bolt from a wrathful god up there, that I now have the power to offer her a way to change even that.
“It’s done. No use crying over it. You and your Prez agreed.”
“He’s your Prez now too,” I grind out, realizing I’ve launched myself into a corner. This is basically gonna turn into a pissing contest of who was a member of The Riders first, and I’m about to switch tactics, when the thug at the older man’s side steps forward.
“I brought my sister’s shit. You gonna let us in to give it to her or not?”
“Of course. By all fucking means. Let me be at your service. Don’t worry about lifting one of those pretty fingers, darling. You might break a nail. Let me do it and give me a tip after.”
The big bastard snarls, showing a set of mismatched, yellowed teeth that make me want to vomit all over again, even though I’ve definitely had enough of that for one day.
I barely resist the urge to plow my fist into those ugly teeth and give him the need for the trip to the dentist he’s obviously been shelving.
I’m about to step out, civilized, and go get Leena’s things, when she creeps up behind me, a silent shadow that catches me off guard when she speaks.
“Thank you for bringing my stuff. I didn’t think you’d get here until tomorrow.
I’m fine, Dad. Thank you for your concern.
” She’s so damn meek, all the fire in her eyes gone, that it banks the flames of rage burning high in my gut.
She lowers her eyes to the floor in a gesture of subservience that I can’t stand. “I’ll do my best to be happy here.”
The thought that it was him, this fucking piece of shit, who put those marks on Leena’s soul, that it was him who tried to break what is mine is like a fucking container of gas heaped onto those flames of rage.
I might have been able to keep it under control. Maybe. If that fucking meathead beside Viking, didn’t open his stupid fucking trap.
“Your dress is ruined,” he states flatly. “And stained. Congrats, little sister. Already fucked and cleaning the house, like a good fucking wife. Maybe you’ll make something of yourself after all.”
Seeing red is an understatement. The rage that infiltrates my vision isn’t just red. It’s every shade of scarlet that exists on the damn prism. Adrenaline rockets through my veins, surging like a lethal combination of deadly drugs.
I let out a roar and charge, catching the bastard right in the middle.
As I expected, he’s slow and dumb and I definitely have the upper hand.
I drive him off the porch with my forward momentum, tumble him down the three stairs to the grass below.
I wish it was concrete and rocks, but hell, the landscaping is on my damn to-do list.
I don’t give Mr. Big and Asshole time to get his fists up before mine start flying.
Instead of giving him my own version of dentistry, I decide his thick, bulbous nose makes for a better target.
It gives way with a sickening sounding crunch that is so completely satisfying I nearly let out a little girl scream of delight.
Turns out, Mr. Tough Shit ain’t so fucking tough either.
He’s the one who screams like a little girl, clutching at his nose and rolling around on the grass after I jump off of him.
Blood geysers between his hands as he curses and moans and does some more rolling.
Really, the guy should have tried out for Hollywood.
I resist the urge to kick him when he’s down, though a well-timed shit-kicker to the gut would be exactly what he deserves.
“Insult my wife again,” I seethe. “And it’ll be more than your nose I break.
” I whirl on the father, who stands staring at us, a disgusted look on his face as his eyes swivel downwards to his pansy-ass son.
“Now. Show me where her things are and I’ll get them myself.
After that, she’s no longer your concern. ”
My eyes flick to Leena, who is leaning against the doorway, as though she needs it to hold herself up. Her face is ashen as she glances between her brother rolling all over the ground, me, and her father who stands, presiding like an asshole judge over us all.
When no one bothers to answer, I step over the writhing piece of shit taking up space on my lawn like a bag of discarded trash, stalk over to the black truck waiting at the curb, and start hefting a few boxes and a duffel bag out of the box.
Jesus. They couldn’t even put her things inside the cab. Fucking bastard asshole cunt shits.
It only takes me a few minutes to haul Leena’s entire life from the truck up to the porch. Viking watches it all. He makes no attempt to veil his amusement, though I really damn well fail to find the humor in the situation.
Leena backs away from the door and disappears inside while I shove boxes in.
Finally, I had her duffel and whirl on her father, who is still there, right where I left him.
“Pick the trash off my front lawn when you leave. And rest assured, I’ll take far better care of your daughter than you ever did. ”
It gives me incredible satisfaction to slam the door in his face.
I don’t actually give two flying fucks that he and his pig son out there are part of The Riders now, in whatever new chapter we’re gonna set up in Jacksonville.
If any one of my brothers had treated Leena like that in the past, or spoken to her like that, you can damn well bet I would have broken his nose just the same.
I whirl, breathing hard, expecting to find Leena cowering behind me, ashen and shaking, scared just like Abby is when she hears anyone raise their voice.
I’d kick my own ass for scaring her, because like Abby, I will always treat her with a gentle hand.
It’s my job now to protect her from harm.
I didn’t exactly ask for it, but I agreed just the same.
And now that I’ve met her, I want to. I fucking want to with every ounce of my being.
I expect to have to console a trembling, crying girl, so it’s a complete shock to me when a hurtling object streaks through the entrance and hurtles itself against my chest. Her slender arms wrap tight around my neck, so tight I almost can’t breathe, while her supple curves meld against mine and her pert breasts mash into my chest.
It catches me completely off-guard and all I can do is wrap my arms around her tiny frame and bend my head to bury my face in her dark, sweet floral scented hair.
I’m a liar. It’s not all I can do. It’s all I let myself do.