Misfit(204)

“You little bitch,” Kendall snarled, low.

“It takes a bitch to know one, doesn’t it?” Meggie returned sweetly, holding her phone out to Rory but staring at Kendall.

Johnnie sighed. “Fuck. I’m on my way.”

“Just in time to discover where we bury this bitch’s body,” Zoann called.

“Fuck,” Johnnie said again, a chair scraping in the background.

Fee stepped forward, wanting to remove her little cousin from Kendall’s wrath while Johnnie was still on the phone. “Rory, bud, why don’t you show me to my room?”

“Go ahead, son,” Johnnie encouraged, aware that Rory wouldn’t move without permission from either him or Kendall.

Holding her hand out and making sure she didn’t lose any of her gifts, Fee allowed the little boy to lead her upstairs, vowing to do things completely opposite from Kendall when she had kids.





When Outlaw killed Daphne, the number of Bobs dropped to twenty-three. It was Cash’s job to rectify the situation, but that meant testing the girls who passed the short interview. Testing meant cock sucks. While Cash had nothing against as many blowjobs as possible, he no longer had his heart into meaningless ones. If it wasn’t Stretch’s or Fee’s mouth on him, he wasn’t interested.

He couldn’t continue to fuck around. Fee wanted more. Stretch wanted more. Cash wanted more. His intentions to win Fee’s brother, sister, and cousin over would be shot to hell thanks to the sea of blondes in the common room. In the weeks preceding Fee’s stabbing, he’d sent invitations via the girls already in his squad. Because Daphne had been a blonde, he’d specifically requested the same from the applicants.

Now, interview day had arrived. In the wake of Fee’s stabbing, he’d forgotten about today, so he hadn’t canceled. His stupidity was hard to digest. True, they hadn’t been together at the time nor had he seen Fee since their painful breakup. He hadn’t seen either scenario changing. Had things gone as planned, however, Stretch would’ve been on premises.

What the fuck had Cash been thinking? He would’ve broken one of Stretch’s friendship rules.

Standing in the hallway, he leaned against the wall and shoved his hands through his hair. Stretch had been the one to let them in. He’d returned from Houston to find Stretch resuming his gate duty. He’d had some type of epiphany that Cash had forgotten to ask about. Fee, though, would’ve remembered.

Fee.

Cash had to win them back. He had to get as many people on his side as possible before going to Outlaw. That meant, he couldn’t alienate a single member of Fee’s family.

It didn’t matter that Outlaw wasn’t at the clubhouse right now. Johnnie was. He’d see the girls applying to be a Bob. Zoann came everyday with Meggie, to help cook for the brothers. In exactly one hour, if Cash didn’t so something, the kindnesses those two women had shown him as they awaited word about Fee would change into loathing and disgust on Zoann’s part and a loss of Meggie’s support for his relationship with Fee.

Peeking around the corner, he straightened and started pacing. At least thirty girls awaited him. Fuck. As the manager of the Bobs, it was Cash’s duty to see to their well-being, put out any fires that arose amongst them, and, most important, make sure they were versed in pleasuring the club members.

If they didn’t have other jobs, Cash made sure they had money. He gave the college girls extra, whether or not they were employed elsewhere. He kept in contact with them and made sure they never felt threatened, pressured, or obligated. If they didn’t enjoy sucking cock, they were free to walk away at any time.

For a while, the position had been the best fucking job in the world. He’d had his cock sucked at least once a day for months. He’d had his own private porn show when he got to watch the girls fucking each other.

Outlaw’s office door opened and Johnnie stormed out, hellbent-for-leather, barreling past Cash without noticing him. When his presence registered, Johnnie halted.

“McCall?” he called over his shoulder.

“Yeah?” Cash kept his voice as neutral as possible, not wanting Johnnie to hear his turmoil.

If Johnnie thought Cash was fucking over Fee, he’d kill him after a shitload of torture.

“What the fuck are you doing in the hallway?”

“Thinking.”

Backtracking, Johnnie halted next to Cash and lifted a brow. “About?”

His stupidity. That answer, however, would be another fucking giveaway to his feelings. Cash needed Johnnie’s support, but he had a plan on how to get it. “My savings account and the hit it took when I drained it to invest in my brother’s company,” he said, not a fucking lie. Just not the fucking truth in the scheme of things. “Sloane invested, so did my father.” Not that Parnell’s investment mattered.