“Dude,” I grunt. “You’re fucking disgusting. The last thing I want to think about is another Koynokov screwing one of my sisters.”
He laughs and shrugs. “Just saying. Filter might be twice as big as me, but I have game too, man.” His amusement dies as he grows serious. “Speaking of game. What’s up with you and Dragon?”
The two of us in one sentence, as though we’re a thing, makes me cringe. Me and Dragon aren’t anything other than a mistake.
I try not to think about how several times now, he’s beat the fuck out of or killed someone who touched me. It shouldn’t send a stupid thrill down my spine. But with the buzz of seeing the flaming emerald eyes fixated on me electrifying my every nerve, I can’t help but mentally fixate on those moments.
Sick fucker.
The barb is aimed at me this time, not Dragon. He’s a psychopath and wears that badge with every creepy-ass smile he gives everyone. Me, on the other hand…I bury my depravity so deep down, no one will ever see.
Dragon does.
Nees continues to blab about every goddamn thing, but my mind is only half there. The rest of me is remembering last night in bed with Dragon. The fiery heat of him. How my body responded so desperately to his.
Thank fuck we’ll be back to the clubhouse soon. I can put some much-needed space between us. He can go back to babysitting me from afar. Life will go back to normal.
A twist in my gut signals our arrival back to Koyn’s compound. This MC life isn’t light or pretty. It’s fucked-up and wrong. I know the second we get Corsetti out of this truck, things are going to get messy real quick. I’m hoping Koyn will do whatever he needs to do while I take a much-needed shower.
I want to forget everything that happened.
Specifically, Dragon.
Nees pulls into the driveway and shuts off the truck before looking over his shoulder. “You ready to start talking, cupcake?”
The muffled whines of Corsetti are all that can be heard through his gag. Nees smirks at me before climbing out. I follow suit, noticing from the corner of my eye that Dragon is still straddling his bike, though it’s no longer running. Under the moonlight, he looks extra devilish. Evil and demented. A chill shudders down my spine.
Bright green eyes seem to glow in the dark as he watches me with unguarded interest. I hate his new fixation on me. Can’t he find someone else to obsess over?
Like your sister?
I scowl, crossing my arms over my chest, and ignore Dragon’s penetrative stare. Koyn and Filter walk out of the house, both of them lighting a cigarette as they approach. The cherries bounce in the dark as they talk to Nees.
“He’s in the truck?” Koyn asks, gesturing to the vehicle. “Alive?”
“Yep.” Nees walks over to the rear door and pulls it open. “Dad’s gonna have a helluva time getting that blood off the leather.”
“Quite frankly,” Koyn grumbles, amusement in his tone, “I’m surprised the fucker is still alive. I mean, Dragon was with you guys.”
“He was going to kill him,” I offer, “but I told him to stop.”
Koyn plucks the lit cigarette from his lips, arching both brows high on his forehead as he blows smoke out in my face. “That right, BP?” His scarred X on his face is silvery in the moonlight.
“Yup.”
“And you didn’t have to whack him with a tire iron to make him listen?”
I shrug and start for the clubhouse, but Koyn’s booming voice stops me.
“I’m not done talking to you, kid. Don’t just walk off like that or I’ll whip your ass.”
Dragon barks out a laugh that has me whirling around. I find his intense stare and meet it with a fiery one of my own. With a growl, I flip him off before turning my attention back to Prez.
“Sorry, Prez,” I mumble. “I’m tired as fuck, dirty as fuck, and—”
“Bitchy as fuck,” Dragon finishes.
I clench my jaw, trying to ignore him. That lasts all of three seconds. “You know, asshole, I’m getting really sick to death of your shit.”
Nees clutches the back of my neck. “Dude. Pull your panties out of your ass.”
Gritting my teeth together, I refrain from saying anything else that might get me in trouble with Prez. I’ve seen him punish Bizzy before by making him clean fucking toilets. My ass is not cleaning toilets.
“Dragon,” Koyn barks out. “You and Katana get Corsetti to the slaughterhouse. BP, I want you sitting in on this.”
Wonderful.
I just love watching a good torture session.
“Prez—” I start but am cut off by Koyn dropping his cigarette at my feet. He crushes it out with his boot, towering over me. All attempts to argue my case are squashed like the butt of his cigarette beneath his boot. “Y-Yes, sir.”