Risky and Wild(32)

“Alright, alright, hold your horses there, cowboy. What do you want from me anyway?”

“Well, first off, I'd like a fucking apology.”

Clayton laughs, but the sound's still pleasant, like he doesn't give two shits about me or mine. Doesn't see us as a threat, despite the fact that we've already disposed of several of his brothers. That should be enough to have him demanding blood and yet, he either doesn't care or is simply a fabulous little thespian. The asshole was angry before, so my money's on him being full of shite.

“Tell you what, I've got things to do tonight, but if you want to set something up for later—”

“There is no later, Clayton,” I say, leaning back against the bar and watching my boys watching me, waiting for what we all assume is an obvious end to this phone call. Clayton will show up here with an entourage and we'll negotiate a return. Nobody here likes to kill people—except maybe Glacier—so if there's a work-around, we'll take it. “Tonight, soon as you can get here. It's what, a three hour drive? Make it two and a half.”

“I'm real sorry, Royal, but that's not gonna happen. I'm playin' the long game here, you understand. Wish I could attend your party, but I'll have to politely decline.”

I stand up straight, my eyebrows raising in shock.

“Are you fucking serious?”

“Absolutely.” There's a long pause, the only sound a slight metallic squeak from Glacier's stool as he adjusts himself. “Hey, how's your new girl, huh? I hear she's real pretty. A dynamite in the sack. You be careful with that one, you hear me? A good girl like that's hard to find.”

Clayton hangs up before I can reign in my roiling temper enough to clip out an insult.

Fuck.

I drop the mobile from my ear and squeeze it tight in a fist.

“He's coming, yeah?” Glacier asks me, snapping his gum and lifting his blond brows in question. “Should we be ready for trouble?”

“He's not coming,” I say, and even to my ears, that's a shock. Dober's eyes go wide and Smoky curses under his breath. The club, the colors, the name, it's supposed to stand for something. Respect. Solidarity. Community. Without that, there's nothing. If Clayton isn't willing to make a stand for his boys, then what the hell else is going on here? The club comes first, always comes first. “He's not fucking coming.”

“That cock sucking scum bag son of a bitch,” Smoky continues as he turns in a tight circle, boots squeaking against the freshly polished floors. “He knows what we're gonna do to them.”

“Without a doubt,” Glacier snaps, his face going dark. Scares the bloody crap out of me.

“He also mentioned Lyric,” I say, hating the way my voice drops into a growl. If I could, I'd leave this bit of information out, but I can't. It's one thing to drag a mayor's daughter into the mix; it's a whole other to lie by omission. “I think it was a threat.”

Three sets of eyes stare right back at me, and nobody knows what to do.

Least of all me.

If Lyric were like Janae, and we were married, if she'd proven herself to the club already, woven herself into our daily lives, then they'd be there for her. As things stand, she's a stranger and no magical announcement from me is going to change that.

“Fuck.”

I rake my fingers through my hair and close my eyes against Dober's I told you so look. Don't fucking need to see that shite right now. I can feel my temper raging beneath my skin, and it takes everything I have to stay calm. I'm going to blow that son of a bitch's brains straight out the back of his skull.

My eyes slide open to find our club secretary, Mick, moving into the room with his wife, Glinda the Good fucking Witch, by his side. She looks like the cat that got the cream. Last goddamn thing I need right now. I make myself look at Mick as he unfolds himself into the room, all six foot four of him towering over the rest of us like we aren't the same bloody height. Janae might be the secretary for the businesses, but Mick is the real secretary, the guy who keeps the meeting minutes, safeguards the club constitution, calls roll at the meetings.

“Did I miss something just now?” he asks as Glinda gives me a little wave and moves around the counter to gossip with Fauna—most likely about Lyric. I glance over my shoulder and give them both a feral grin when I find them staring my way. Yep. Most definitely about Lyric. Glinda raises her strawberry blond brows at me, looking all the more like her namesake in a pink leather jacket with a property patch on the back. She used to be a leather lover, still is good friends with Mia. Good luck, Pint-Size.

I try to keep my face neutral as I look back at Mick. His wife works the coffee shop part-time, takes care of their daughters the rest of the week. I'm pretty fucking sure she doesn't work today, which means she's here for the sole purpose of checking out my girl.