two
The Angel
“Who’s gonna poke the beast and see if it’s got ‘roid rage?” Heath asks, grabbing a towel from the rack and smacking Saint’s ass with it. He grins and nods toward the freshman quarterback who just showed us what’s up on the field. We’re not sure what’s up off the field, and that’s the variable we need solved.
“Let the dude shower,” Saint says, shaking his head and flipping his towel around the back of his neck.
Stepping back from my locker, I glance over at the guy, a six-and-a-half-foot wall of muscle watching us dress. He should be playing at University of Arkansas at the very least. He could have gotten a full ride, not that he needs it. His family is loaded. No one knows why he’s here, at shitty little Thorncrown U. That raises my suspicions.
“The guy’s trouble,” I say, shrugging into a t-shirt. “His whole family is. His dad comes into the club, messes with the girls.”
“He must be here for a reason,” Saint agrees, winding his wet hair up and securing it in a bun at his nape.
We finish dressing, and as soon as the QB shuts off the water and reaches for a towel, we approach. He watches us, his eyes hooded as he casually towels off his dick. Dude showered facing the room like a creep, putting his whole massive body on display, making sure we all know he’s hung like a fucking stallion.
I’m already rethinking the steroid explanation for his size.
“Which one of you is here to weep like a pussy because I took your spot on the field?” he rumbles in a deep, Yankee accent, taking his sweet time drying his balls.
“You earned your spot,” Saint says, tipping his chin at the guy. “It’d be nice to win a few games for once. We’re not mad about it.”
“If you’re going to try any prison shit, just know I’m an expert at castration,” the quarterback growls, looking us over.
“We’re not interested in your dick, impressive as it may be,” Heath says, a glint of the heathen in his eye as he cracks his knuckles and sizes up our opponent. “We got other things on our minds.”
I nod at the guy’s chest, where a different dark-haired female stares back from each of his dinner-plate sized pecs. “We’re more interested in your ink.”
“What about it?” he asks, leveling me with a look while toweling off his tree-trunk thighs.
“My cousins do that?”
“Who else?”
“Got any on your back?”
He straightens and stares down at me with soulless eyes while he tucks his towel around his narrow hips. “Fucking try to make me turn around.”
I’m about to lose my cool with this prick. We already told the egomaniac we weren’t interested in any fraternity pranks. I puff up, stepping into his space. “You know who you’re fucking with?”
He tips his head back and surveys me with cool indifference. “Should I?”
“Hell, yeah, you should,” Heath crows, dancing on his toes and rolling his neck like he’s itching for the fight. “You’re about to find out what happens when you fail to show the proper respect to the brotherhood. Silly freshman.”
The freshman scoffs quietly, his eyes on me. “Yeah, I fucking know who you are. You think I live in a goddamn castle in the sky?”
I think he lives in a mansion on the hill and bleeds gold, which is the equivalent of the shit he said. Considering how he looks, he’s probably used to getting more pussy than he can empty his balls into and having a different sycophant spotting him on the weights every day while he gets jacked too. I’m about to knock his punk ass out just to show him that this ain’t high school anymore. He’s not the big shot around here. Things are different in college, even at a tiny school like Thorncrown.
Not to mention he’s on my turf now , and he’s only a freshman.
Before I can deck his privileged ass, Saint reaches over, flattening a hand against my chest to hold me back. “We just want to know if there’s going to be any shit,” he rumbles back at the guy. “The Crossbones play football. Disciples play hockey. We coexist here, but not on the same team. Got it?”
“I don’t fuck with small town gangs,” the asshole says, his lids lowered halfway, his eyes black as the pits of hell.
“You don’t fuck with gangs at all if you think the Bones are small-town,” Heath says, smacking his fist into his palm, his teeth just about chattering in his excitement at the prospect of a brawl.
“Everything in Arkansas is small compared to Manhattan.”
“Not everything,” Heath says, cackling.
“You’re not on Sincero’s payroll, we got no beef with you,” Saint says.
The QB smirks at him. “My family makes our own payroll.”
“Keep it that way,” Saint says. “Or expect… Problems on the field.”
“Noted,” the freshman says. “Now back the fuck up off my dick. It’s taken.”
“We can see that,” Heath says, grinning like his heathen side’s about to take over entirely. He nods to the guy’s massive pecs. “Which one’s your bitch, and which is the side chick?”
“It’s my dead sister,” Royal answers coolly, hooded gaze holding Heath’s. “I guess you’d know something about that.”
“You wanna start shit with me right now?” Heath asks, lunging for him.
Saint collars Heath and draws him back, clapping his other hand to my uncle’s chest. “He doesn’t,” he assures Heath, measuring our opposition with an equally unflinching stare. “Do you?”
“No,” Royal says. “I want to take a fucking shower after practice like every other asshole. Now, are we done here?”
“We’re done,” I grumble, glaring at him. “Bring up that shit again, though, and we’ll have a different problem. ? Comprende , asshole?”
He tips his chin back and stares us down like he wouldn’t hesitate to singlehandedly take on three gangsters. “Got it.”
When no one moves, he pushes past us and stalks off to his locker.
Saint pats Heath’s chest where his arm’s still hanging around his neck. “You good?”
“Yeah, dog,” I agree, turning to Heath as well. “That shit was uncalled for.”
He nods, his smile going just a little more unhinged. “Yeah, good. All good.”
“That asshole better not be fucking with us,” I say. “If I find out he’s working for Sincero…”
“They’re both Italian Yankees,” Heath says, narrowing his eyes, his dark fringe of lashes swallowing the teal blue of his eyes. “That’s where Diablo’s Disciples started.”
“We’ll know about him soon enough,” Saint says, turning to head out, knowing we’ll fall into step with our leader. “Until then… We’ve still got the other seven Sinners to deal with.”