Or something.
“Nah, just off my game today.” He chucked his controller next to Screw’s with a huff as he sagged into the couch.
Gumby and Jazz went out for a little one-on-one time. Screw’d been feeling sorry for himself in his solo state, so he’d begged Thunder to come over for a few hours of Call of Duty before his gig.
Too bad his head was too scrambled to concentrate.
“This funk have anything to do with a responsible little dark-haired beauty who is in desperate need of some excitement in her life?” Screw lifted his beer to his lips as he spoke but didn’t sip, just stared at Thunder over the lip of the bottle.
“What? The fuck you talking about? No. Who, Makenna? Pfft, you’re fucking crazy. No.”
Oh, Christ.
Screw burst out laughing. “Yeah, good job convincing me, brother.”
“Can we not talk about this right now and just go back to you kicking my ass?”
With a shake of his head, Screw took a long pull from his beer. “Nope. This is more fun.”
“For who?” Thunder muttered.
“For me, obviously. Spill it. You fucked her, didn’t you?”
“Screwball.” Thunder tried to growl it out in as menacing a tone as he could muster. Too bad it had no effect on Screw, who snorted.
“Thunder,” he mocked back in the same tone. “You fucked her, and now you’re the one who’s fucked. In the noggin.” He twisted his body until his head propped against the armrest, and his long legs rested on Thunder’s thighs. “Come one, tell Dr. Screw all about it. Let me shrink your head.”
“Uh, aren’t I supposed to be the one lying on the couch, asshole?”
Screw shrugged. “Fuck if I know. Besides, I’m comfortable, and it’s my house, so I get to make the rules. Now, start talking.”
With a snort, Thunder shoved Screw’s nasty feet off him and stood. “Ain’t nothing to talk about. Yeah, I fucked her, but that’s it. Since when are you one to talk about everyone you fuck?”
“Well, I only fuck two people these days, but I’ll give you all the details you want. Say the word.”
Ugh. “No, thanks.”
After dropping his feet to the floor, Screw sat up again. “So nothing’s going on? Just some straight-up tension relief? One and done?”
“Yep,” he said, popping the p as he sat back down. “What do you care who I’m fucking and how I’m doing it?” he asked as he looked over at his brother, who used to be the biggest man-whore around. Hell, the guy still couldn’t settle for monogamy, having to find an unconventional relationship with a man and a woman.
As he lifted both hands in surrender, Screw laughed. “Hey, I’m not judging. I’m all for fucking any way you can get it. Just trying to help out a friend.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t need help with this. There’s nothing there to help.”
“Wasn’t talkin’ about you.”
A prickle of unease had Thunder narrowing his gaze at his club brother. “What?”
“Monty’s got a real hard-on for her. You should hear him. Sounds like a lovesick puppy dog, all slobbery and awkward.” With a wink, he shook his head. “Figure since you’re not gonna be tapping that on the regular, I might as well give her a nudge in his direction.”
It’s a trap. It’s a trap. It’s a trap.
The sliver of rationality in his brain screamed at him, but it was too fucking late. Screw’s words had bypassed his logic and hit him straight in the possessive, caveman portion of his mind. “The fuck you will,” he shouted as he hopped to his feet. Rage was instant, flowing hot and wild in his blood. The thought of Monty taking her out, touching her, tasting her had him in a murderous state. He’d lay that motherfucker out flat before he ever got close to Makenna.
Turning toward Screw, he advanced until he loomed over the man. “You have any idea how amazing that woman is? The shit she sacrifices to take care of five younger siblings? She’s working her ass off to keep them clothed, fed, buy their medications, and doing it all on her fucking own. She deserves the best there is, and you wanna push that bald motherfucking child on her? She’s has enough people to take care of. Doesn’t need some stupid ass prospect trying to stick it in the wrong hole and failing to find her clit. Christ!” He spun and stalked his way across the room as he raked a hand through his hair. Fucking Monty, of all people.
As his blood began to cool from the initial flash fire of rage, Thunder became aware of the fact Screw’s smirk had grown with each word that flew out of his mouth.
He groaned. Goddammit, he’d been played by a master.
Now he had to face the music.
Slowly, Thunder spun until he faced his brother. If he could have gotten away with it, maybe if Screw hadn’t been the club’s enforcer, Thunder might have smacked that smirk right off his smug face. “You are a piece of shit.”