“Yeah, heard that from the guys who did time with you.”
Leo laughed so hard he bent in half.
Roach eyed him, shaking his head. It wasn’t that funny. Just like the sight of Hulk approaching a woman half his size. She only reached his pecs thanks to towering stiletto heels, and the copious amounts of makeup covering her features was clearly meant to achieve a more ‘mature’ look. In Roach’s experience—a dead giveaway of an underage chick at a party very much meant for adults. “Carry on with the circle jerk, I’ll go check her ID. She looks far too young to be here.”
Ajax grabbed Roach’s shoulder harder than necessary and yanked him back before he could have taken the first step. “You wanna cock block your own dad?”
A shudder went down Roach’s spine when his brother’s breath tickled his ear. It was one of the cold ones that felt like slugs rolling down his flesh. They stood too close, and with everyone watching, Roach couldn’t push Ajax away, because then Ajax would have to push back, and that would have ended in blood. More of Roach’s, most likely.
Dog snorted. “What’s the big deal? She’s not gonna tell anyone she got dicked by a couple of guys on the same night. Not in this town.”
Each of Hulk’s hands was bigger than her whole ass, and she flinched when he squeezed it, leading her away, toward the corner sofas where so-called magic often happened during more private events.
Maybe Dog was right. This wouldn’t be the first underage girl Hulk had pinned, or the last for that matter, but Roach was too pissed off with his dad tonight, so yes, he’d fucking cock block him, because that piece of ass did not belong in this dump.
Roach shrugged off Ajax’s grip. “It’s not your problem,” he said and moved with one goal in his mind.
To the side, the last member of the motorcycle club, Gimp, was showing off his prosthetic leg to a busty girl in fishnet. He’d lost it in Iraq but, funnily enough, always failed to mention his accident had nothing to do with combat and everything to do with his own stupidity. But Roach didn’t care how Gimp got his shlong greased, and went straight toward the towering bulk of Hulk’s back. From up close, the girl looked even younger, with thick foundation covering her pimples.
He approached matter-of-factly and tapped her on the shoulder, ignoring the outrage in Hulk’s outraged glare. “ID?”
Roach didn’t miss the way tendons tightened on Dad’s neck. “Get lost,” he said, picking that moment to stuff his sausage-thick fingers under the girl’s leather skirt. It was meant as a sexy move, but the inexperienced chick shrieked and took a step away, staring at them both with wide eyes.
Roach kept a straight face, but the girl’s gaze already told him he’d won this battle. She’d bitten off more than she could chew and was realizing it at lightning speed. “I’m afraid that if you don’t have ID, I’m gonna have to escort you off the premises.” Which he hoped she wanted at this point. Unless she was stupid enough to not understand he was helping her out. She did not want to be under Hulk. Especially that if he got her drunk enough, the night might end up with a follow-up from the other guys, like Dog had suggested.
“Oh… I…”
Hulk huffed at Roach and shook his head in a gesture that suggested pain would be coming Roach’s way. “Leave the girl alone,” he said as if he was her protector all of a sudden.
“No, I d-don’t have ID, I’m… I’m fifteen!” she added louder, making some heads turn their way.
Roach raised his eyebrows and engaged in a staring contest with Hulk, but at this point it became clear the prey had escaped. Their gazes clashed, producing sparks, and while Roach could already sense pain in the places his Dad chose to attack most often, doing this one good deed made him feel a little bit better about his own miserable life.
He still flinched when Hulk stepped closer, leaning down so he could whisper into Roach’s ear. “You’re gonna regret this.”
Nausea pooled in Roach’s stomach, but he grabbed the girl by the arm and turned away. He led her to the nearest exit, Dad’s gaze burning his back all the way there.
Roach couldn’t wait to get his hands on his flask.
The girl was stiff under his arm, as if she hadn’t expected the kind of treatment she’d received at all. Figured. Damn fifteen-year-olds and their desire to be seen as adults at all cost.
They were out of town, on a stretch of land a stone’s throw away from the main road, but since the girl was too young to drive, she’d have to call someone to take her home. It was already dark outside, and the light over the entrance illuminated a group of women chit-chatting over cigarettes. One of them huffed and pushed apart her friends, grabbing the girl’s hand, as if she wanted to anchor her in place.