Rubbing a hand through my hair, I say, “And if I didn’t, she would have been in trouble.”
Snow snickers at my words. “She would have been fine. But now she’s been seen with you, it’s going to be different,” he states, then walks off.
He’s right.
But I don’t tell him that.
Stepping out into the clubroom, the guys are already drinking, and a multitude of women are all hanging around or sitting on their laps. Walking to the fire, I sit as one girl walks over, her hand resting on my shoulder. “Hey, sweet thing.”
I look up at her—I think I’ve fucked her before. She wasn’t memorable, though, no one ever is. Scrubbing my face, I brush her hand off and reach for a cold beer.
The doors open and Marcus walks in. He’s the only non-member who’s allowed to come and go as he pleases. That’s mainly because his name is on the deed to this fucking place. He doesn’t want it, though. It was our family home, and I’ve turned it into something completely different.
Now, it’s my home.
Marcus walks straight to where I am, reaches for the beer in my hand, and sits next to me. My brothers never speak ill of him or question why he comes here. They’re all a little afraid of him, if I’m being honest, because he’s one scary motherfucker most of the time. If he wasn’t my brother, he’d be my protector. But I know who he is, and just because he’s broody and silent doesn’t mean he doesn’t care.
“No ball and chain tonight?” I ask as a prospect steps over, handing me a fresh beer.
“You can’t hate Rochelle that much, considering you want her sister,” he snaps back at me.
I give him a smirk, and he pays me no attention as he drinks his beer.
“I don’t want Rochelle’s sister,” I reply to him.
“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.”
“Where’s your girl?” Snow asks as he walks over. Why he likes Rochelle, I will never know.
“At home.” Marcus looks to me. “With Kat.”
“Invite them,” Snow says, looking back to me.
I shrug in answer.
Marcus watches me intently until Snow walks away. “You need to get over your hate for Rochelle, she will be my wife soon.”
“Your wife?” I slow clap. “Have you fucking lost your mind? Next, you’ll tell me she’s pregnant.” His eyes don’t leave mine, not for one second. “Oh fuck! Is she pregnant?”
I shake my head because Marcus doesn’t like kids and has never wanted them. Some of the things my mother and her boyfriends did to him were unforgivable. Most of the damn shit that went down was meant to be for me, but of course, Marcus covered my ass. Though, what he doesn’t know, is that he couldn’t be around all the time, and when he wasn’t there, she was. I hate our mother with everything in me. And I’m glad she’s dead. Couldn’t be happier if I’m being honest with myself. Marcus still loved her, even when he should have hated her.
“No, she’s not,” he says. He picks up his phone and talks for a few minutes, then states, “She’s coming, and you better be nice to her.”
I scoff. “When aren’t I nice?” I smirk, lifting my beer to cheers with him and taking a sip.
“You’re a fucking asshole to her. Lucky for me, she doesn’t care what you think.” Marcus raises an eyebrow. “Now, fill me the fuck in… what’s up with the Wretched MC? They going to be an issue?”
“Yes! What’s up with them? You doing work for them?” I ask.
“Not lately, but I have in the past.”
Goddamn! I groan. Of course he has.
They all know Marcus, even though he doesn’t speak or associate with them.
“No more. That MC is causing issues, and you shouldn’t be involved with them.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“That’s beside the point. I didn’t ask if you could take care of yourself. You’re my brother, so stay clear of them.”
“Oh, forgot to tell you, Kat’s with Rochelle, too,” Marcus declares.
A short time later, we both look over at the large door as it opens, and both of the strawberry blonde girls walk in. Rochelle steps in first, looks around, and spots Marcus. There’s a twinkle in her eyes when she spots him, and she heads straight for him. Kat, who’s behind her, stops and starts, saying hello to everyone on her way in. Snow picks her up and gives her a bear hug before placing her back down on the floor. Those blue eyes search everywhere until they land on me. She’s dressed in sky-high heels and a short pink skirt with a crop top. Why the fuck she’s wearing that I will never know.
“Fuckhead,” she greets me. Then she sits on the seat next to me, taking the beer from my hand putting it to her lips and drinking it all in one long draw before handing me back an empty bottle.