“No. Lyla refuses. She says he’s not worth her time, that he threw her aside for Gabby Cruz and she’s done with him.”
“This right here is why I’ve never had kids,” Jonesy growls.
“You’ve never had kids because there hasn’t been a woman desperate enough to let you breed her,” Ford mutters.
“It’s a wonder you had Lyla if you told Sherry that you were going to breed her,” I point out.
Ford shrugs, gives a resigned smile. “She was too mercenary to care,” he answers and boy do I know what he’s talking about.
“Fine, we’ll bide our time. I’ll let you try to find out who this fuckhead is that hurt my daughter first. You have a couple of weeks. You find him, you bring him to me. You don’t, you bring the girl and then he’ll come to us.”
“Hell, Prez, man I wanted to go on the Chicago run with Tweet and the others. Don’t have me running after these damn girls all the time. I’ll go crazy,” Jonesy complains.
“Bullshit, Jonesy. Since when have you ever hated following girls?” Ford responds, making me laugh under my breath—because he’s right. If there’s a pretty girl involved, Jonesy is there.
“Man, these chicks are jailbait. Not to mention, one looks just like your daughter. The other one is a redhead and you know my history with those bitches. Three words Ford. No. Thank. You.”
I smirk as Ford shakes his head. Jonesy’s ex was a red head and man did she have a hell of a temper. Of course, Jonesy got his name because he’s always jonesin’ for the next best thing. Fucker is never satisfied, and his ex’s find that out the hard way.
“I’ll do it, Pres. I have zero interest in traveling to Chicago.”
“You sure? You’re my enforcer after all, the boys might need you.”
“It’s an easy run and through friendly territory. Jonesy here can handle it without me.
“Damn straight I can. I taught you everything you know anyway, asshole.”
“Except how to bulk up in the gym,” I remind him, and he flips me off. Jonesy has muscles, but as enforcer I make sure that I can take anyone out there in a fair fight and know all the tricks to come out in an unfair one. You might have an off day, and you will eventually go against a man who might be a little faster or a little smarter than you. The trick is to know how to handle yourself so that even when that shit happens you come out the winner. In my world, life depends on that particular talent.
“Fine, it’s settled then. Now get out of my sight, the both of you. I got shit to do,” he grumbles, going back to the paperwork on his desk and already ignoring us.
“You’re not fooling me, you know,” Jonesy murmurs quietly after I close the door.
“What do you mean?”
“I saw the way you were eye-fucking that red head. You have your own reason for wanting to tail the girls.”
I grunt my answer, because he’s right, but I’m not about to admit it. Jonesy’s loud, obnoxious laughter follows me down the hall.4Jasmine“Is there a reason you’re watching me?” I ask Mr. Broody from the other day.
He’s been following me off and on since the other day. I’ve spotted him each time. I’m not sure if he was trying to hide the fact that he was or not. When you grow up in a biker club, you spot a tail pretty easily. My father taught me that special skill. He doesn’t trust cops. Then again, he doesn’t trust anyone outside of the Savage club. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even trust me, although he does love me. I could complain about that, but I don’t understand myself most of the time, not sure I can expect them to at this point.
He looks down at me—because he literally towers over me. He’s broad and tall. The kind of man that would make a woman weak in the knees—or wet between the legs. Again, I remind myself that I’ve sworn off men. Especially when his lips twitch and move just enough to say he’s almost smiling. I get the feeling that Mr. Broody doesn’t really smile at all. This might be as good as it gets.
Too bad it’s really damn good.
When he doesn’t answer, I give him the look that I give my brother Hawk. The one where I’m annoyed, but he’s not worth the effort or muscle movement to roll my eyes.
“If you’re not going to talk, then maybe you should move on down the road because your stalking is annoying,” I finally mumble before walking back to the picnic table I was at earlier.
“Where’s the girl you’re always with?” he asks, following me. I close my eyes for a second, because his question hurts.