Wheels of Fire

“Jesus Christ, did she wave a red flag in front of him too while she was at it?”

“I think he understood her message fine.” I sit forward and knock my knuckles against the desk to gain his full attention. “He’s a misguided, ruthless man, no question. But somewhere deep down in his black soul, he loves his daughter.” I almost add, just like you care about me, but even though my father’s as savage as they come, comparing him to a ruthless snake like DeLova seems wrong.

The creases in his face seem deeper than ever. “There’s no reason to rush into marriage.”

I knew his positive attitude about our engagement wouldn’t last. “I’m not in the mood for your ‘don’t settle down until you’re forty’ bullshit, Dad.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about.” He holds out his hands in a settle down gesture that has the exact opposite effect on me. “Don’t lose your shit, I’m about to get blunt with you.”

“Since when have you ever had any tact?”

He doesn’t laugh. “Mallory doesn’t strike me as the kind of girl with a lot of experience.”

Muscles in my neck tighten. I narrow my eyes, putting every ounce of warning into my stare. “Tread carefully, old man.”

“Hear me out before you flip your shit.”

He waits for a beat and when I don’t say anything, continues. “I get that it’s exciting. Makes you feel like a king knowing yours is the only dick she’s ridden.”

“Are you motherfuckin’ serious right now?”

He holds his hands up in a truce gesture but it still feels like the worst of this conversation hasn’t punched me in the jaw yet.

“I’m not asking you to confirm or deny. I don’t need details to see how innocent she is, son.”

“Fuck off,” I snarl.

He stares down at his desk and traces a pattern over the worn, scarred wood. “I met your mom when she was still in high school.”

The fury boiling inside me threatens to spill over into throwing punches at my old man. “Great, so you’re a class A perv.”

“Maybe.” He nods. “Didn’t look at it that way back then. She always jumped on the back of my bike willingly.”

I groan, but I can’t deny there’s a part of me curious to know more about their history. But not in this context.

He clears his throat and barrels ahead. “It was a rush to know I was the only man she’d ever been with—”

“For the love of fuck—”

“Hear me out. We were…extremely compatible and I loved teaching her everything—”

“Jesus Christ, I’m begging you to stop.” I shift in my seat and stare at the wall over his head. “Just stop.”

“All I’m saying is, it’s fun and exciting now. But ten, twelve years from now she might start to regret that she had no other experience. Regret can drive even a good woman away.”

That’s it.

I stand and slam my fists on his desk, leaning over so I’m right in his face. “Are you really trying to say Mom wanting to sow some wild oats is what made her abandon us?” Each word drips out of me like slow, molten venom. “Is that what you want me to believe? Do you think I’m so fucking stupid I forgot that you cheated on her left and right? Do you think I don’t remember listening to her sob her heart out on the nights you didn’t come home? You’re trying to lay all the blame on her? Because she didn’t fuck around enough before you married her? Is that the point you’re trying to make?”

He works his jaw from side to side, then glances away. “I’m not saying I was perfect.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“You’re both young. But Mallory…she’s really young and inexperienced.”

“So, what do you suggest? What’s your solution to this problem you think we have? Want me to lay her out on the pool table and offer her up to my brothers?”

“Jesus, fuck no, you little asshole.”

“Then what point are you trying to make with this disgusting, shitty conversation?”

“She must have guys tripping over their balls to nail her out in California.”

Thank fuck I left my hunting knife at home because I would definitely gut my father right about now.

“Maybe let her explore some.” He shrugs. “If she comes back to you, great. No regrets down the road. For either of you.”

“Are you going senile, old man?” I rub my fingers over my throbbing temples. “Is this dementia talking?”

“What about that lanky punk at your show?” He snaps his fingers, trying to recall the name. “Andrew. He was panting after her all fucking night.”

Revulsion burns the back of my throat. “Are you suggesting I offer my future wife up to my friend? Loan her out, like she’s a fucking car? Let him break her in some more and see if she still wants me when he’s finished with her? Is that the kind of man you think I am?”

“She seemed into—”

“Do not finish that sentence, old man.”

“I’m trying to save you some heartache later in life.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Yesterday you were welcoming her to the family and today you’re—”

“It’s not just for your sake, but for whatever kids you two might have.”

He did not go there. “Fuck you. Mallory would never abandon her children. She’s not some starry-eyed teenager believing all the lies some old predator fed her.”

“I never lied to your mother.”

“That right? You were up front and honest about all the clubwhores you’d be fucking behind her back? You honestly believe Mom riding a few more dicks before she settled down with you would’ve made her okay with your whore harem?”

He rolls his shoulders, a sign we’re dangerously close to finishing this conversation with our fists. “I know what she told me before she left.”

“All your screwing around broke her damn heart, you oblivious fucking asshole!” I take a breath and calm myself. No matter how much I want to stab my father to death right now, I don’t need the rest of the club to hear me yelling at our president. “I’m finished with this discussion.”

He opens his mouth but I can’t listen to another word. “Don’t ever bring this up again.”

“Russell...” He sounds so broken I almost want to apologize but I can’t bring myself to say the words. Not after this. “I’m trying to save you some pain.”

“Yeah, well, this conversation did more damage than anything Mallory could ever do to me.”

I slam the door when I walk out of his office and smile with satisfaction when something crashes to the floor inside.

Tally’s at the bar watching me with a bland expression.

“What?” I snap.

“Everything okay?”

I haven’t quite gotten over the irritation of how close he and Mallory were while I was battling my cocaine demons. Even if he never hit on her, it still ticks me off. I glance back at my father’s office. Then again, the old man is the one who sent Mallory out with Tally in the first place. To piss me off, no doubt. Now I wonder if he had this “experimentation” theory in mind back then?

Whatever’s going on inside my demented father’s head isn’t Tally’s fault. He’s a brother. I’ve known him a long time and we have plenty in common.

/>

I jerk my thumb over my shoulder. “Relationship advice from the old man wasn’t high on my list of things I wanted today.”

He snorts. “Neither of our fathers are qualified to advise anyone on that topic.”

“Amen, brother.”

Brothers stomp into the clubhouse, ready to celebrate. A few of the old ladies stop by and pat me on the shoulder or kiss my cheek to congratulate me.

Tally watches the room for a few seconds before motioning me closer to him.

“Mallory’s a good girl, Chaser.” His gaze shifts to the side. “What you two have is real. I respect your dad as my president. Love him like a brother. Hell, he’s been like a second father to me for most of my life, but don’t let him fuck up what you and Mallory have together.”

“Thanks, brother.” I slap his shoulder in appreciation.

“Go get your girl. It’s time to celebrate.” He lifts his chin toward my father’s office. “Worry about it tomorrow.”

Fuck that. I have no intention of letting the seed my father planted take root.

But that’s the thing about intentions.

The road to hell is lined with ’em.

Chapter Twenty

Mallory

Whatever Chaser and his father discussed must have been unpleasant. He returns to our room in a foul mood, slamming the door behind him and letting out a string of curses.

“What do you think?” I pose and flash my hands—partially covered in black lace gloves—at him.

His bitter expression dissolves. “I think you’re beautiful and I can’t wait to be your husband.”

“I can’t wait to be your wife.”

“Come here.” He holds out his arms and even though he’s the one who seems to need the comforting, I take shelter against his body. “I love you so much, little dove.”

The emotion in his voice sprinkles fear over our sweet moment. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I want to make you happy for the rest of our lives. Always.”