Unwritten Rules (Filthy Florida Alphas 3)

“What the fuck happened to her?” I growl at Ride, using the pad of my thumb to wipe the blood away.

“Her and Kasha seemed to be having a difference in opinion,” Ride answers, surprising me.

“Were you that set against seeing a doctor, Dragonfly?” I whisper against her ear, where only she can hear me. A fine shiver runs through her body. I feel it immediately and it hits me like ninety proof whiskey, drunk straight down.

Is she attracted to me?

A question I shouldn’t even be concerned about, and yet I find myself thinking about it when I should be dealing with the fucker sitting in a chair across from us.

“Toi! I’ve missed you,” he says, almost as if on cue. Toi’s body tightens in my hands instantly. There’s nothing soft about her now and I mourn the loss. It’s yet another thing to hate Weasel for.

“He’s just here to say goodbye. He won’t hurt you, Toi. I won’t let him have the chance to do that,” I promise her, and I don’t stop myself from kissing her cheek, taking the blood there and using my lips to erase it. Her coppery taste hits me, the metallic flavor sinking inside of me in a way that I know I’ll never forget this moment. She pulls away from me confused, and I let her go because she’s not the only one wondering what in the hell I’m doing.

I walk her over to a chair across from Weasel. There’s a large table between them, but I still worry he’s too damn close to her. Her eyes look hard, but she doesn’t blink at him, instead choosing to hold his gaze the entire time—almost warily.

“I’d like to talk to my daughter alone,” Weasel says, as if he has the right to demand anything of me.

“Too fucking bad,” I smirk.

Toi looks up at me and then to her father.

“I need to say goodbye to my little girl. There are things I need to tell her. You know as well as I do if this deal with the Garcias falls through, I won’t get to see Toi again.”

Toi studies him and then she surprises me. She puts her hand on my arm, squeezing it.

“It’s okay,” she whispers.

I study her face. Not long ago she was upset with me and I was being an asshole over Desi. Now she’s touching me. I like that she’s touching me. I’m liking it a lot and even though I know I shouldn’t, I want her to keep touching me.

That one stupid, fucking bone-headed reason is why I direct the men out of the room. I might as well let her hand my balls to me. “You got five minutes, Weasel,” I growl, ignoring the disapproving look on Ghost’s face. He can go fuck himself. He’s not going to get the chance to claim Toi as his—and it’s pretty damn clear he wants to.

Maybe I need to find a mission to send the asshole on. It might be good to get him away from Toi for a few days.

Maybe even a few weeks.24ToiI need Marcum gone. I just need a few minutes to breathe away from him. When he held me a minute ago, whispering to me… he was almost tender. My body reacted to him in a way I wasn’t expecting. I don’t understand it. We don’t even like each other. Why, when he kissed my face, did it feel like I had electricity running through every nerve ending in my body?

The last thing I want is to be alone with my father, but if it gives me a minute away from Marcum and the strange way I just reacted to him—then I’ll do it. Once the men file out, Marcum is the last one.

“Toi,” he calls out and I look over at him, even though I don’t want to. He holds my gaze in his and I couldn’t look away if I wanted to. “Five minutes and I’ll be back,” he says, and I can’t figure out if he’s being protective or warning me. I’m left feeling even more confused.

“You tangling with Marcum now? Shit, I wouldn’t have thought you had it in you. If I’d known that I wouldn’t have tried to save myself by dealing with the Garcias, I’d let you protect your old man by spreading your legs. Tell me, are you Marcum’s private play toy, or are you seeing to it the whole club gets a piece?”

It’s been a long time since his words had the power to hurt me. Still, these are so vile, they make my stomach turn. I look at him, and not for the first time I wonder how he can be my father. I feel nothing when I look at him—except distaste. Still, I don’t respond to him. He’s not worth the pain or the effort it takes to talk.