Outlaw's Vow: Grizzlies MC Romance(27)

“What the fuck you doing here, asshole? One of Blackjack's boys, coming in our Prez's house without warning? Smells like shit!” The prospect with the beefy arms and a huge gut shook Asphalt again.

“Don't hurt him!” I screamed, but they all ignored me, too focused on roughing up their target.

Three big, savage looking bastards. The kind of men I'd seen before, except they normally weren't posted here on guard duty.

Were they expecting us? Didn't make sense.

Regardless, there wasn't time to figure it out. Asphalt's eyes beamed hot, red murder straight through the fat prospect's face as they sized each other up. Then my man's smooth forehead darted out like a wrecking ball, cracking straight into the other man's face.

“Fuck!” The prospect's nose made a sickening pop, and he lost his grip on Asphalt. He stumbled backward, both hands covering his face, blood pouring out between his fingers in the darkness.

The other two Tacoma boys went to town. Asphalt grunted as the punches started, going straight into his stomach, knocking the air out of him so he couldn't do anything else.

I stood there with my mouth hanging open, not sure if I should try to jump them, or else grab a knife from the kitchen. Normally, my presence alone should've done it.

Didn't they know who the fuck I was? I'd have to show them if this kept up. Nobody had the balls to lay a finger on the President's daughter!

“Sear, Jack-O, Peak, lay the fuck off. Let him speak.” I heard a familiar voice behind me.

I turned to see Line, my adopted Uncle and Tacoma's VP, his face as unreadable as ever behind one eye patch and shaggy salt and pepper hair.

“Shit, Veep, you gotta be kidding me,” the one called Jack-O snorted, barely holding back on his superior's orders, his fists trembling at his sides. “Fucker walked in here without a peep to the club. He should've called the clubhouse, and we would've been expecting him. Last I knew, that was against whatever fucked up terms California set with us.”

“Our Prez'll be the judge of that. Elle?” Uncle Line cocked his head, finally acknowledging me. “What're you doing back here with your old man?”

He practically spat the last words like he'd bitten into something rotten. I stepped up, pushed my way between the two men, tugging on Asphalt's shoulders.

He tried to throw me off, but he was still too busy sucking air back into his lungs. I looked at Line.

“I'm here to see daddy, but I'm guessing he isn't here.” Line said nothing, telling me everything I needed to know. “We're going upstairs to pack so we can find some different lodging. Tell daddy we're home. And for God's sake, make sure he knows his guys should point their guns away from a man who shares your patch. I thought we had a peace deal?”

I gestured to Asphalt. He finally stood up straight, shot me a look that said, I don't need your damned help.

Line snorted. “Trust me, baby doll, your dad's got bigger dragons breathing down his neck. He's gonna want to see you tomorrow. I'll tell the boys to lay off – for now.”

Dragons was right. I wondered how long we had before the ticking time bomb that was his deal with the Shanghai mob exploded in all our faces.

Smiling, the VP looked Asphalt up and down, just as he began to move. He didn't look back as he raced upstairs, and I could only follow.

“Make sure you keep him on a short leash, Elle Jo. I remember the shit he used to get into years ago, back when we gave him his prospect patch. Doubt this boy's changed one bit from all the drinkin' and whorin'. I know a rat when I see one. He's bad for you, girl.”

“Funny, I only see feral fucking animal with his lips moving, one-eye,” Asphalt snarled from the top floor.

That was my cue to run up. I stopped on the top step, slid my hands against his chest, and pushed as hard as I could. “Come on. Just ignore him. It isn't worth it when we're this outnumbered.”

At last, he relented. I pointed to my room behind him. Asphalt turned, walked, and shoved my door open so hard it banged against the wall.

He was in like a tornado. I stood with my legs totally stuck for the third time that night, watching him fling my closet open and rip the drawers out of my dresser.

“Start fucking packing. We gotta get the hell outta here, babe. Clock's ticking.”

I couldn't deal with the way he was manhandling my things, tearing through them like a bad cop without a warrant. I just walked into the closet and pulled out my old suitcase from college, unzipped it, and began gingerly folding the clothes he'd thrown out on a heap inside it.

I tried to focus on my work, ignoring everything else that was happening until I saw him rip my bottom drawer open. Oh, Jesus.

Shit!

“Hey, hold up a second, there's fragile stuff in there!” My warning didn't stop him. He paused for a single second, eyeballing me, and then dug in harder. He shoved aside my diplomas, old homework, a couple precious birthday cards from mom.