Breaking Her (Savage Brothers Second Generation 4)

“I have men I can trust.”

“Your place here looks like shit, but your defenses, as far as I can tell, are damn good.”

“They are.”

“Then you have to already be suspecting what I am.”

It’s his turn to sigh and pull his hair out of his face.

“It’s someone on the inside,” he confirms.

“So, you need more men.”

“No.”

“Damn it, Ford—”

He moves, sitting up and leaning against his desk to stare at me one on one.

“This is my fucking club and my fucking mess. I’m dealing with it and I have men I trust to the ends of the earth. I don’t need you, asshole, and quite frankly, even if I did, you’d be the last person I asked. It may surprise you, Dragon, but you’re not exactly liked around here. Shit, my men might even revolt. I have clubs I’m aligned with.”

“You’re their president? You tell them what goes. A man doesn’t take power by making friends.”

“No, but they keep it by earning their respect.”

I purse my lips and study Ford. There’s shit he’s not saying, but it’s not like I give a fuck. I’m worried about my son—not his damn club. “It would help us both out to have an alliance and you know it,” I point out.

“Maybe, maybe not. What I do know is my girl hasn’t shown me what she wants. I really don’t think she’ll pick your boy. If she does?” He gives yet another fucking shrug. It’s starting to grate on my nerves. The motherfucker better start respecting me. “We’ll cross that bridge if it happens.”

“If T calls me and tells me shit is going south and you aren’t in control, me and my men are coming to protect him and his family.”

“Dude, I’ve heard you got balls of steel, but maybe you have shit for brains. T-Boy doesn’t have a damn thing here. He hasn’t earned it.”

“He does. If he didn’t, your daughter would have let you kill him, or at least ran him out of the state. She came to our hotel. She claimed and punched him. That much emotion, man? That means my boy has something worth protecting here and I’ll do it—with or without you.”

“She punched him?” Ford laughs.

“Oh yeah, you’ve trained her well.”

“Women need skills in our world,” he says and I recognize the shadow that comes over his face, because I’ve felt those words in my soul. It didn’t make choosing Nicole an easy choice, but Nic is Nic. I couldn’t have lived without her. I wouldn’t have wanted to. If she had died all those years ago, I would have swallowed a bullet and followed her. She hates when I say that and tells me I’m fucking wrong. It may not be right to feel that way, but it’s true just the same. My woman is my world.

“They do,” I admit. “My woman demands I bring her here to see her son and check out your daughter, you goin’ to allow that?”

“If I say no, are you going to listen?” he counters.

“Maybe, but you won’t like how I react.”

He laughs. Fucking bastard.

“Give me warning and yeah, bring her. Not sure you want her here with bullets flying through the air, though.”

“I sure as hell don’t. But man, I know my woman, and she’s not about to sit at home and not check on her boy or see things for herself.”

“Reason nine hundred and ninety-nine on why I don’t want an old lady,” he mutters.

“I could give you a million reasons why she makes it worth the fact she busts my balls,” I counter, laughing.

“Yo, Ford, we got a problem.”

My head jerks to the door and in walks one of Ford’s crew that I haven’t seen before. He’s tall and broad and covered in ink. His skin is the same tone as mine—dark, although not as many scars. His cut indicates he’s the Road Captain. That’s not why I notice him, though.

He looks familiar.

My brow creases as I try to put his face to a name. I come up empty. There’s something about him that does seem familiar, but I can’t place him. I shrug it off as a coincidence.

“Oh. Didn’t know you had someone in here,” he says. “I’ll come back.”

The whole time he’s talking, he’s staring right at me. I’ve been hated by enough people in my life that I can pick up on it right away.

This fucker definitely hates me.

I guess Ford wasn’t kidding when he said I wasn’t popular around here. My lips twitch into almost a smile. Fuck him. I don’t give a shit what this asshole thinks about me. Bring it on, motherfucker.

“Dragon, do you know King?”

I shake my head no, not turning away from the man who is still looking at me like I’m scum under his fingernails. I’ve been on the receiving end of that look quite a bit in my lifetime. So, it doesn’t exactly phase me. I usually have two marks against me with judgey-motherfuckers—being in an MC and the color of my skin. Since—from where I’m standing—this shit-for-brains is pretty much in the same boat as me, I can only assume he’s pissed because my son knocked up the club princess. Maybe he had a hard-on for Lyla. That’s interesting and information I file away. I need to make sure to give T a heads up. In the meantime, I’m enjoying getting under this asshole’s skin.