Wed to the Bad Boy(87)

“I didn’t realize she was one of yours, man.” It was a young guy, the one from the day of the funeral. Was he too stupid to realize who I was? Probably not much older than me. Another prospect, and one that stepped in the shit.

“She is not one of mine. She is my niece. Get the fuck out of here, Troy. And you better not come around until I’ve fucking cooled down.” Uncle Mick was seething. He meant every single word he’d said.

All it did was remind me of the brutality that this club used to get exactly what it wanted. At any cost. Still, Troy lit out of there and my uncle gave me a sad look.

“I’m sorry, hun. I don’t think he knew who you were.”

“It’s okay, Uncle Mickey. Really. I’m not as fragile as you think.”

“So, you’re here for your first day of work?”

I nodded.

“Good. ‘Bout time you got the hell out of that house and into the real world, Lala. You can’t just sit there all day and night.”

I’d only been a week, but I just blinked. He was right. I had to do something. I had to earn my keep, and I had to find a way to contribute. Sure, I didn’t want to stay, but it was my best option.

“You said it would all be above board?”

“Yes. You’ll just be doing the garage’s books. Taxes, inventory, all of those things. I promise. Nothing to do with the other business. Some of the official finances, but no knowledge of anything else.”

The fact that there was “anything else” was almost too much for me.

“What do I do?”

I turned to see DeMarcus Wallace standing there, staring at me.

Cullen said, “Thrash, this is—”

DeMarcus laughed. “Sean’s sister, I know. Remember the little twerp from when she used to run around here, crying about every little thing.”

He smiled as he said it, his eyes bright and his arms out for a hug.

“It’s great to see you, kid. I’m just sorry it’s under these circumstances.”

I embraced him and then looked him over. I was feeling a little playful so I said, “You sure grew up good.”

“Says the smokin’ hottie. Damn, girl.”

That handsome man was just barely on the edge of adulthood the last time I saw him, and while I may have caught a glimpse of him at the funeral, I certainly didn’t recognize him. He’d gone from a wirey, awkward youth to the able-bodied man before me. An undeniably attractive one.

His dreads were beautiful. Strong and tight, they seemed to beg my fingers to stroke them. Tattoos and brands laced across the dark skin of his arms in a tapestry of warm flesh and silent promise. All together, he was dizzying to be near.

‘Uncle’ Mikey noticed.

“Come on, Layla. Stop ogling the boys and get to work!” he barked, laughing.

I grinned sheepishly and nodded at Uncle Mick. I’d get to work, but there I couldn’t promise anyone I wouldn’t marvel at the men before me when they were hot as hell.

I knew it was going to get me into a heap of trouble. I wasn’t sure I cared.





Cullen

I walked up just in time to see her eyeing Thrash like a hot mess. Great. Just what I wanted to. For her to come back and go for someone else.

I was pissed, but I tried not to show it. There wasn’t anything I could do about it.

Thrash was one of us, even if he wasn’t white. Hell, we weren't that kinda club. We didn’t discriminate, as long as someone in their line came from Ireland. We were a club born out of old connections to the mob and an old immigrant history. Bloodlines were muddy and rich in America; and Thrash belonged by blood.

Besides, he had just as much of a right to Layla as anyone else, and we’d all been friends since childhood.

But that didn’t mean I didn’t want to smash his face in just for looking at her.

I glared at them both.

“What the hell are you looking at?” I asked Thrash when his eyes finally met mine. I was pissed off all the time lately. How would they know this was different?

“Your ugly face.” It was the standard retort between us, and it made me laugh, but not because it was funny. Thrash noticed and caught my eye. Words weren’t needed. He knew something was bugging me. And that it wasn’t really him.

“You’re a little late, aren’t you?” Layla snipped at me, unimpressed.

“What? No, I was just over at the shop getting a few things. I have a list of duties for you, but Mick can walk you over and give you a rundown. Everyone else, you have either shift work or patrols. Tonight we meet to discuss the current situation of our club. Five fifteen, got it? Not five-thirty or six. Five-fifteen. Well, everyone except for Mick and Troy. They’ll be doing patrol then.