I jerked up so hard in my seat my knees banged the fucking table. Everybody looked at me, and a couple guys laughed.
Fuck them all. He was talking about Elle Jo, the only chick I'd ever touched and still thought about without dragging her to bed.
That hot, blonde, blue eyed brat still caused my cock to strain some nights. I thought about her when I jerked off alone or dragged some club whore into my room to fill. I came like a wild fucking animal when I imagined what I'd lost with her, getting nothing but that sly little kiss before her old man put lead into my bones.
Then I got pissed, thinking about everything I'd lost, wondering where she'd gone and who she was fucking. It wasn't me, damn it, and the sick truth made me wanna ram my fist through the wall.
The razors in my blood didn't take too kindly to hearing her being talked about like a piece of fucking meat neither. That pussy was meant for me one time, and I'd let it fucking go because the Tacoma boys chased me outta town.
That spoiled, sexy club princess had the only cunt I wanted to fuck, and hadn't. My whole vision went red and the world spun when I thought about her coming back to taunt me, wrapped in some fucked up Grizzlies intrigue she didn't deserve.
All the brothers around this table had been through some serious shit, sure, but had we lost our goddamned minds?
“Wait, what the fuck, Prez,” I grunted, pretending like I hadn't heard him right. “You can't be saying what I think you're saying. I thought the arranged marriage shit in this club died out with Fang?”
“Easy, son.” Blackjack looked at me and smiled. “I know you have roots up there, but she's not your kid sister. She's our ticket to smoothing hell over and finding out whether or not Gil deserves more than a rope around his hands and a blade in his throat.”
“Fuck...” My head was spinning.
Elle Jo.
The bitch. The tease. The princess.
I hadn't seen her since the night I'd grabbed her ass and put my mouth on hers. She was probably the tenth woman I'd kissed, and I'd had at least fifty more since I'd blown town and left her sweet ass forever.
Her old man gave me the greatest regret I'd carried like a ball and chain for four fucking years. That night he put a couple bullets in my shoulder, broke my ribs, warned me away from ever sniffing around her again...
I'd been fucking robbed.
My fists tensed. Roman shifted next to me, sensing my body language, ready to restrain my crazy ass if he needed to. Wouldn't be the first time.
“We've come too close to let it all slip away, boys. We've turned this club around and sent the cartel packing. We did it without losing lives. Is having one of our men take an old lady on the fly extreme?” He paused, pointing at us with the bright orange end of his smoke. “Hell yes, it is. And you'd better believe I'd go crazier to see every one of you and your families safe from more bloodshed. I'm not asking anybody who's already hitched up with a woman and a kid to take on this job.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Talk about a narrow damned field for a ludicrous mission. Blackjack's eyes pivoted to me, then to Stryker, the only two eligible bastards left, excluding himself.
But there was no way in hell the Prez would ever volunteer for this shit himself. Besides being old enough to be Elle's father, he hadn't let go of that woman who'd locked his heart in a tomb years ago, some chick I'd only heard vague rumblings about.
Karolyn? Carol? Whoever the fuck she was, she was a big damned secret, one so bad he'd sworn off pussy forever.
Stryker and I looked at each other. Our newest brother had come back into the fold after we'd thought he turned rat and nearly dropped his ass dead a couple months back. Lucky for him, we'd been wrong.
“Prez,” he said slowly, “I'll do it to take the load off brother Asphalt's back. Just let me –“
“No, you fucking won't. I can handle all the fucked up weight in the world.” I looked him dead in the eye, trying like hell to control the hornets swarming through my veins. “Elle, Gil, and me, we all got history. Let me do this. I'm the only other fucker here who hasn't married himself off to some chick.”
Rabid cleared his throat, staring at me with a wild smirk. “Damn, brother, no need to jump the gun. Christa and me, we're not official yet.”
I nodded. Roman was the only boy at the table formally hitched, but the weddings for Brass and Rabid would be coming soon, and they were just itching for the right time.
“Fuck me. Never thought I'd see Asphalt beat me to the altar.” Rabid did a long take with the Veep, no doubt thinking the same shit, and the other guys laughed.
“No time for bullshit.” Blackjack stood up, one eye wincing through the pain he still carried on his battered old bones. “We've found our man. Asphalt's right. I don't enjoy forcing that sonofabitch to give up his spoiled brat so we can play secret agent to protect this club. If they've been on good terms before, it'll soften the blow.”