“Well, she wants you out of The Pit tonight.”
“You have to be fucking kidding me.”
“I’m not.”
“Did she say why?”
“You told her you didn’t want her to race?”
I nod. “Of course, I did, it’s too dangerous. She could be in the next car that explodes.”
“Can’t do that brother.” He chuckles and takes a sip from the tumbler in front of him.
“The hell I can’t.” He may be the President of this club, but he’s no one to tell me who I can and cannot fuck. I’ll decide that on my own.
He waits for a few beats, thinking over what he wants to say before speaking again. “You don’t tame a wild bitch by holding her down. You set her free and give her strength. You try to snuff out her passion for living, and she’ll never stick around. You take control and show her you have her back and she flourishes, standing beside you.”
That’s probably the most poetic shit I’ve ever heard come from the Prez’s mouth. “I won’t let her kill herself because of stupid arrogance. The woman is bullheaded and is going to be the death of both of us.”
“She probably thinks you’re acting the same way.”
Huffing, I get to my feet.
“I mean it, Mercenary. Torch goes in your place tonight.” He points, and I bristle.
“No disrespect Prez, but this is between her and me, not Torch. I can’t believe she called you. I’d just had my damn tongue in her mouth yesterday.”
“You’re wrong. This is about my club dealing with their enemy. You have one thing on your mind, which is fine, but you need to take your blinders off. This is bigger than your cock wanting some forbidden pussy.”
“I’ve gotten you the Fists to question so far, not anyone else.”
“And I’m grateful for it, but what happens if ten of them showed up? Could you make the right moves and think long enough to call in your brothers and also protect yourself? They could fuck you up and demand information out of you. Can you honestly say you can do what is needed or will she have you so distracted you risk your neck for her first?”
Fuck. He has a point.
“So, have Torch and Odin in the stands again like last week. I’ll be down on the track to protect Chevelle. Then it all works out, and everyone’s straight.”
“She doesn’t want you there at all. You’ll step in and attempt to stop her from racing and you can’t. That’s her damn track; she’s the one letting us be there in the first place.”
“I’m not one to usually go against orders, but I’m at least having a conversation with her ass about this. I won’t let her hide behind a phone because I’m not there in person to talk some sense into her stubborn head.”
“Don’t fuck this up, Mercenary. We need to have a spot there to get our info, and if you screw with that, you’ll have me on your ass.”
“Noted,” I mutter with a huff and head for the door. My muscles are coiled extra tight with irritation. I have to see Chevelle; she needs to realize she can’t call the Prez every time we disagree on something. I can’t believe she took it that far rather than fighting with me about it. She must’ve realized I was serious when I told her I didn’t want her in those damn cars tonight.
I pay no attention to any of my brothers as I storm through the bar for my motorcycle. The machine can’t carry me fast enough it seems, and my anger only grows with the longer it takes me to reach her. The woman fights me at every turn, and now she believes she can get her way by going through my Prez.
I’ve never met a female who didn’t give into me by now. Normally I’d have fucked them, and they’d be doing whatever I asked until I got tired of them. I’ve barely kissed this bitch, and she’s put me on my ass. It’s gotten to the point where I even spanked her, and she didn’t fully submit. She’s going to be the death of me one way or another.
I shake my head, pushing my bike’s speed up higher. The scenery off on each side of the road passes in a blur. I don’t pay any attention to it anyhow. I’m too distracted, thinking of only Chevelle and how I can get her to finally listen. The Pit comes up on my left, and I lower my speed, pulling into the parking lot and going around to the backside.
I’m met at the large silver bay door as I roll it up. My gaze instantly falls to the man lying at Chevelle’s feet, draining any irritation I was harboring on the ride over. “Where’d he come from?” I nod to the unconscious man on the floor.
His leather cut gives him away as being another Iron Fist. Odin was right; they’re like damn cockroaches never going away. It makes me wonder just how large their club really is. Odin said most likely fifty to a hundred members, and that’s just in this general area. That’s a lot of damn bikers for any club.
She shrugs, tucking her dark hair behind her ears all innocent like. “When you left they just showed up.”
“They?”