Man of the House(149)

I got my stuff together and took a few deep breaths, calming myself down. I couldn’t be around him and thinking about what he could do to my body. I knew he had plenty of practice with all the women he brought home, and I had even heard from a few of his very satisfied conquests. But I wasn’t going to be one of those conquests, not now or ever.

I left out through the front and noticed Clutch was gone. My heart nearly skipped a beat until I saw him outside leaning against his bike, his arms crossed.

I went out there and headed toward him.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said. He got on and I got on behind him, holding on to his body.

His ripped, strong body.

He didn’t say a word as we pulled out into traffic and headed toward the clubhouse.

I was frustrated and more than a little bit confused by the day so far. Out of nowhere Dad had given me a guard to watch over my safety, and that guard turned out to be cocky, arrogant, and attractive. I knew Larkin thought I should try to do better than marrying another MC guy, but I never wanted to marry anyone.

Dad just didn’t want me to get involved with them because he knew what kind of guys they were. Rude and crude, they were all alike, except for Clutch, who seemed to be both like everyone else and a world apart from them.

We pulled up outside the clubhouse not too long later. There were only a few bikes parked outside, which wasn’t surprising. Clutch got off and nodded at me. “Here we are, your highness,” he said.

“I didn’t ask for this, you know,” I said.

“I know that.”

“Then quit pretending like I want you around.”

He smirked as I walked past him. “You want me around,” he said. “You just don’t realize how badly just yet.”

I ignored that comment as I walked inside. There were a few guys, mostly old-timers, sitting at the bar.

“Hey, Stonewall,” I said, patting the back of one of the oldest and well-respected members.

“Janine, beautiful as the day is long,” he said, just like he always did.

I smiled at his grizzled face, his gray hair. He was old but still strong, a very feared man.

“Jesse, Trace,” I said, nodding to the other men. They raised their glasses in salute.

I looked back at Stonewall. “Is he back there?”

“He always is, darling,” he said. “Never takes a day off, that man.”

“What would you all do if he did?”

Stonewall laughed. “Rebel, I bet.”

“Yeah, right. You’d beg for his return.”

He smiled, a little twinkle in his eye. “You’re probably right about that.”

“See you,” I said, heading back toward the office. I saw Clutch sit down next to the old-timers and get a drink out of the corner of my eye as I knocked on my dad’s office door.

“Who is it?” he called out.

“It’s me,” I said.

“Come in.”

I pushed the door open. Dad was sitting with his legs up on the desk, smoking a cigar. It seemed like that was all he ever did, though I knew there was a lot more to it than just looking tough. He was constantly making deals, balancing books, dealing with crises. There was always work in a gang as large as the Demons.

“Sit,” he grunted.

I took a seat. “Okay,” I said. “Time to talk.”

He frowned and took a big puff. “Can’t we just make some small talk first?”

“No,” I said.

“How was Clutch?”

“Dad?”

“Come on, just for a minute.”

I sighed. “Fine. Delay the inevitable.” I glanced at the wall. “Clutch was good.”

“Treated you well?”

“As well as a guy like him can.”

Dad raised an eyebrow. “Any problems?”

I shook my head quickly. “No, not at all. Clutch is great.”

“Good,” he said. “I wasn’t sure about putting you with a boy your age.”

“I’m not some stupid teenager, Dad. I can handle myself.”

“Maybe,” he grunted. “You’re right.”

I crossed my arms. “Enough. Talk.”

He sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Listen, I wouldn’t ask something like this of you if it weren’t important. You understand that, right?”

I chewed my lip. “Now you have me nervous.”

“Just listen.” He puffed his cigar. “You know about the war, about what’s happening. The Snake Spit and the Mezcals are allying against us right now. Meanwhile, the Rebels are nipping at our heels. The Rebels and the Snakes don’t get along anymore, but that doesn’t make us friendly with the Rebels, either.”

“I know all that,” I said, impatient.