“Yeah, so what?” Jeremy asks.
“You got some balls talkin’ like that to Doc. His reach is far and wide. I suggest you take that into consideration.” This comes from Shovel. At this point, Shadow is behind Jeremy, arm coming down on his neck, momentarily paralyzing him enough to drop the gun, then I’m running up the steps with Doc right beside me.
“Good work, Shadow,” I hear Ruger say, but I’m already dragging Jeremy up by his once white now stained-yellow shirt.
“Appreciate it.” He stays quiet after that.
“Wake up, dumb fuck,” I tell Jeremy as he starts to come to. “You want him, Doc?”
“Fuck yeah. You sure you don’t want the first hit?” I thought about it, but I think it’s gonna be funny as fuck when the next time he sees Monroe at work, the rock I have on her finger will do plenty of damage to his overinflated ego.
“Nah, I think I’ll let you take him on this time around.” I hold Jeremy as Doc takes his fist to him over and over again. Really fuckin’ glad I deleted that missed call from this bozo from Monroe’s phone.
“Oh God, make him stop,” Jeremy begs after Doc hits him a few times.
“Should we?” Shovel asks.
“I don’t think he’s learned his lesson enough yet,” Razor, who’s always after a little bloodshed, tells Doc. Every time Jeremy slumps down, I tighten my hold on the collar of his shirt behind his neck, making him stand up again.
“Up to you, Doc.” I look at him.
“I’m not sure I’ve made myself clear. You gonna fuck with my daughter or a Diamondback again?” he asks. Jeremy shakes his head vigorously, unable to say anything. Doc nods his head. I drop him to the floor, pick up his gun, and we walk the fuck away. If Jeremy knows what’s good for him, he’ll transfer locations. If not, we’ll be seeing him, a meat hook callin’ his name. I’ll be the one to dole out his punishment, and no one will ever be able to find him.
Twenty-One
Monroe
It’s been hours upon hours. My phone has sat silent, even when I sent a text to Cannon letting him know I would be hanging out with Henley, and mum has been the word. What’s really got my hackles rising is that not one of the brothers are here, including my dad.
Henley and I spent the afternoon painting our fingernails and toenails, me doing hers and then her doing mine. It didn’t matter that I had to help get excess off my skin; the proud smile she gave me at helping so much overruled anything. Then, of course, I did her hair in cute French braids, after which she attempted to do the same with mine. I think I may have a few bald spots from all the pulling and tugging she did. We rounded it out with a makeup party. After that, I brought her back to Sadie’s and waited around until someone fessed up to what was going on.
That’s why I’m currently sitting on the couch, the news on low in the background, a magazine in my lap, and my attention on neither of them.
“Freaking finally.” I guess when the guys left today, they didn’t bother leaving anyone here for us, well, mainly me, to question them to death. I stand up, abandoning my place on the couch and not waiting until Cannon or my dad walk in. This way, I can catch them unaware.
“Oh shit, that was some fun stuff. Nothing like seeing him piss in his boots.” I open up the main door seeing that it’s Bullet talking to my dad.
“Shhh, keep it down.” This comes from Cannon. Isn’t that interesting.
“Ahem,” I clear my throat, holding the door open, allowing the light to filter through and let them see who’s here.
“Ah fuck,” Cannon states first. “Shit, we’ve got some explaining to do.” I’m technically not ‘allowed’ to question them in front of brothers as a sign of respect, but both Cannon and my dad stop what they’re doing, say goodbye to their brothers, and head towards me.
“We’ll talk in my room,” Dad states.
“Trouble, wait a minute, okay?” Cannon tries to smooth-talk me, but I saw my dad’s busted knuckles.
“Yeah, but there better be a good reason, or I’m going to lose my shit.” Cannon guides me inside the clubhouse, my dad somehow already in front of us and probably waiting like the father he is. Too bad it’s not me who somehow screwed up and has to do the smooth-talking on the fly.
“Oh, there will be. You wanna yell at me, all I ask is you do it in my room away from everyone, includin’ your father. Our shit is ours. Ain’t no one else’s.” It’s kind of hard to argue with that logic. Cannon’s arm goes around my neck, bringing me in closer as he kisses my lips softly, then maneuvers us to where my dad is waiting at the door to his room.