Three
Right now, it’s imperative that I ball up all the emotions I’m feeling, and instead of directing them toward the one that deserves my wrath, I decide I need to focus on someone else. Sorry, dear brother, you are my distraction for the night. It’s this or murder. That thought has me nodding in agreement with myself. Decision made.
High-five me.
Welp, no better time than now to get this shit over with.
“The thing is… Chase,” I say sweetly.
Okay, as sweetly as I possibly can. Being that sweet is not my thing. It's coming off a little Chucky bride-ish. Causing his eyes to widen almost imperceptibly, but I don't miss them narrow. He closes the distance between us, stopping inches from me. The annoyance in his eyes has turned into an angry type of suspicion.
In the MC, you never publicly call a patched member by his government name unless you’re his ol’ lady, family, or given permission. Being unfamiliar with and calling him by his first name stirs the pot more than I probably should. Causing his hackles to rise. Yep, this will not be pretty. It is what it is. I square my shoulders and look directly into his eyes for this next part. He stiffens as his eyes bore into me.
“I came here looking for my sperm donor. See, my twin brother and I are bastards. Dear ol’ Dad spilled and split. He thought my mother and his unborn child weren’t good enough for this world. If I’m not mistaken, his words were that my momma was too weak… too soft. So he sent her packing without a backward glance.” I say with a little more mirth than I mean to.
Sigh, rubbing my temples. Shit, reel it in, Bellamy Dianne Church Petrov. Reel it the fuck in. I take a calming breath before I continue.
“He sent my pregnant mother away. And if I’m honest, he was a big old giant dick about it. Huge dick. Like if the Statue of Liberty had a dick, that’s how big of a dick he was.” The look on his face says the dick talk isn’t hitting right. I shrug and keep going, “Ok, well clearly, you're not getting it, but anyway. I recently learned that it was all so he could play house uninterrupted. Got himself a wife and three kids. All the while, my mother raised us alone with absolutely zero help from him. Douchebag move if you ask me, but you didn't, did you, brother?” Emphasizing the last word, never taking my eyes from his.
My shoulders remain squared, and my posture is relaxed. I’m ready for anything. It’s going to take a second for what I said to click. When it does, I don’t want to be surprised when he loses his shit because he will for sure. I chuckle because if I was any other girl and Chase was any other guy, his stature would be intimidating. Never taking my eyes off him. I wait and watch him. His eyes shift from calculating, annoyed, and curious to cold. I see the moment it clicks. Emotions filter in his eyes–disbelief, anger, frustration, suspicion, and then there’s one that lingers a little longer. Grief. That one is very curious. It doesn’t last long before captain dick appears, and an angry mask slams down, his eyes coldly regard me. All that’s left of the man I know to be my half-brother is Bull, the club's enforcer. Awesome.
Yep, shit's about to hit the fan.
“The fuck you say?” he speaks in a deadly tone through clenched teeth.
Chase's face morphs into an even angrier scowl, and my spine tingles because I know he is about to do some dumb manly shit. You know, the default masculine chest-thumping, I am man, bullshit they do when they discover something that fucks with their heads. Men can be children when they can’t process their feelings. So they choose intimidation and tantrum-throwing instead of being big boys and talking shit out.
And away we go.
Chase grabs me by my arm, hard as shit. Yanking me to my feet and out of my chair, causing it to fall to the floor. My body is pliant. I’m ready for whatever the fuck this shit turns into. My eyes roll in response to how he’s choosing to do this. Those around us look on with thinly veiled curiosity, but no one says anything. And I don’t resist.
Fucking fine.
Here we go.
I ignore everyone staring as they pretend not to know that shit is about to get real. Fuckers.
Okay, yes, I could have handled that differently. And maybe I’ve offended his delicate sensibilities by informing him of our family secret.
Oops, my bad.
I’ll go along with it while he throws this tantrum for now. Allowing him to pull me towards the double doors leading out to the front of the clubhouse. From the corner of my eye, I watch him. His face is beet red and set in an angry, determined scowl. Everyone moves out of his way, which tells me he’s earned his title and is respected in the club. The anger and rage rolling off him aren’t as threatening as they should be. I’m doing everything possible to avoid laughing at the big, bad, angry biker. It’s adorable and not entirely unexpected. His response is close to what I thought it would be. But man, if he doesn't get his hands off of me soon, I might have one less brother. You should ask me if I care. No, really, ask me. Yeah, I don’t, not even a little. Because I’m on the island of, I don’t give a fuck. And if I don’t give a damn, that means whatever the fuck I do from here on is not a problem. If that pisses his dad and my mom off, then so be it. Because a girl can only let so much go, manhandling me is one of those things that I just can’t let go of.
When we reach the clubhouse doors, Chase shoves the doors open and pushes me down the stairs hard as shit. And that does it. I said I would go with it, but this motherfucker is a little too aggressive for my liking. So, as queen of being unable to fix my face and keep my shit together. I shift into. I'm about to fuck shit up mode. Stumbling slightly, but thanks to my training and the ballet classes my mother forced on me. I’m agile enough to catch myself. Quick tip in badass one-oh-one. Ballet is the way to go if you want to be light on your feet. Stop judging. I spin on my heels, stand face to face with the grabby motherfucker, and fix him with a stern glare. I have already acknowledged that I may have said some shit and poked the damn bear. But what we are not about to do is this shit.
I casually reach into my pocket and pull out a hair tie. I know who cares about hair at a moment like this. There is always a method to my madness. I flip my head down, gather my hair, and finger comb it so I can put it into a loose puff pony because she needs her edges. I know Chase is staring at me like I’m crazy. Which I am. And he is about to learn how crazy.
Boy, oh boy, is he going to learn today.
While scooping my hair up and putting the hair tie in, I assess my surroundings, clocking everyone and their proximity to me. Scanning the parking lot for any threats. There are none. I stand back up and continue to glare. I know people are watching. They play at pretending they aren’t, but they most definitely are. I have the tingles. You know, the ones you get when you are being watched. It isn’t from the people here but my own. I smirk, knowing they would come. They always do.
My dear darling newly met brother is about to learn something about handling a fucking lady. Before I say a word. Chase comes barreling down the stairs after me and steps into my space. Too close, sir. Too damn close, but I refuse to take a step back. Which means I have to look up at his giant ass, which will give me a crook in my neck. Why the hell is he so damn tall? Blaze towers over me, too. I’m not tiny, but my brothers are tall for no damn reason. Yeah, I know I get it, genetics. But that’s not the point. I know our dad is six and a half feet tall. But is it necessary for his sons to be? How can I intimidate my brothers if they can rest their elbows on my head? That is some bullshit. I wonder if Vex is tall in real life. I hum to myself at the thought.
“Listen, bitch.” Chase hisses.
Oh shit, I was rambling in my head again. Focus, girl. I shift my stance, watching Chace’s face, which is still red like a ripe tomato. Oh, he’s big mad. I hold in a chuckle and purse my lips. Ignoring him, calling me a bitch. I’m working hard not to laugh at him because I would only make shit worse if I did. Chase, being king dick, steps even closer to me. We are nearly chest to chest.
His voice lowers and sounds even more deadly than before, “I don't know what game you're playing, but whatever your whore of a mother told you, it’s a goddamn lie. No brother, I mean not a single one, would turn his back on his kid willingly. That isn't our way. And it is a hard and fast rule for every brother, in every club, in all the charters.” he says through clenched teeth. Damn, how do people do that shit? If I talked like that, my jaw would be on fire by the end of the night.
I can’t hold it in anymore at how ridiculous this is. I chuckle because my best friend Gabriella would beg to differ regarding the brothers, never turning their back on their kids. Okay, that’s a lie. Because she didn’t tell Talon. But then again, what do you expect a girl to do in her situation? She walked in on him balls deep in a club hangaround. So she bounced. And then she became a bad bitch who saved the day and Talon’s ass.
I hear a growl, and my eyes narrow on Chase’s. He looks murderous. Oops, I did it again. Shit, I need to stay focused. He doesn’t like the chuckle I let slip or the amusement in my eyes. His eyes burn with fury, and he takes another damn step into my personal space.
Motherfucker, seriously?
I square my shoulders and put my hand on my hip. It may seem to some that I’m being saucy, but that isn't it. I need quick access to my knives and guns. I'm always carrying. Never know when you’ll need to defend yourself, and tools of the trade always come in handy. I don't want to kill him, but I'll maim the shit out of his ass if he puts his hands on me again. The first one was a freebie. I get his anger. I dropped a family bomb and was a little too snarky for my own damn good, so I get it. But the next one. I stare at him, conveying that he has about two point-five seconds to make the right decision. I shake my head when I see he is determined to continue on this path of assholery.
“Well, brother, there is only one way to find out,” I smirk and tilt my head to the side, glaring up at him in a challenge. Making it clear that he is not intimidating me in the least.
Can see it in his eyes that he's getting squirrelly. This asshole is going to do something stupid. And my ass can’t help but continue to push his buttons. I know that’ll go south, forcing me to lay his ass out. It’s not ideal, but a girl's gotta do what a girl’s gotta do, even if said girl hasn’t been playing nice. Quicker than the thought leaves me, he grabs me by my throat. Oh, see here. I’m about to fuck him up, brother or not. I said it. I warned him with my eyes. I warned him. For real, who raised this idiot? I’m a damn lady, damn it.
I hear gravel shuffling around me, but I don’t take my eyes off Chase’s. My breathing is steady and even as he applies pressure to my throat. I don’t flinch as we continue our stare-off. A slight smirk curves on my lips, and I wink at him. Probably not my brightest idea, but I’m fully committed to this now. His hand squeezes a little tighter, and the narrowing of his eyes lets me know that my big, bad biker brother means business. Somehow, a chuckle leaves my constricted throat, which has him letting out an angry growl while he pulls me closer to him. His eyes stare into mine with pure rage as we stand virtually nose to nose, and I balance on my tiptoes.
Why the fuck is he so damn mad? He’s the motherfucker who has his hand around my damn throat. Dick. But he done fucked up. He's about to find out just how much. My mother says I’m a smart ass that’ll meet her match one day. I can guarantee you that today is not that day. And Chase is not the one that’ll check me, boo.
Here we go.
I reverse this little display of his so-called strength by lifting my arms between his, using all my strength to slide my arms up and out. Bringing my body closer to his. Which, might I add, is entirely too damn close for our familial connection. Wrapping my arms above and around his, I spin to the left, grabbing one of his arms and then pinning his wrist to his back. I wrap my palm around my Glock, pulling it from my back holster, kicking him to his knees, and holding my Glock to his head. I release the arm I had pulled behind his back and simultaneously grab and put my blade to his throat. I speak before he can even say a word or anyone can react.
“See, I just came here for a few answers and to do a job. I didn't start this. Youdid…” Shoving the barrel further into his temple and taking a calming breath, I continue. Because, like I said, I do not want to hurt my brother, but I am not one to be manhandled, no matter how much my mouth runs. His big ass should have known better. “I wanted to find my sperm donor, Gunner Church, get to know him, and do the job I'm being asked to do,” I sigh.
Shifting slightly, looking around at the onlookers, making sure no one has decided to get froggy. “But no, big brother had to get all handsy and be a dick. Now, I know I should have stayed my ass in my hotel room, Netflix, and chilled. I wasn't in the stabby gun-to-the-dome maiming mood today. I promise you I wasn’t. It seems you brought that out of me, Chase.” I say, sounding bored, because honestly, after all of this bolstering and blustering, I kind of am.
Bored, that is.
I ponder my next move. I want to donkey punch his ass to teach him a lesson. It wouldn’t hurt him per se, but it would wreck his pride, knowing his slightly younger sister got one up on his ass. I’ll have a bruise on my arm and neck tomorrow from his unnecessary manhandling. So, a donkey punch is the least he deserves.
Honest to fuck, my reflexes at this point are getting twitchy because I'm pissed. My body is on autopilot. The boy best be glad I'm mindful enough not to slit his fucking throat. Well, damn it to you, survival instincts, you win this round. I sigh.
“ENOUGH!” Being bellowed has my head shooting up.
“Well... shit.”