“He grabbed my ass,” I snap, justified.
“She was bending down, waving it in my face,” Milk whines. Only in our chapter a month and he’s already outstayed his welcome.
“I was tying my fucking boot, you grubby little shmuck.” I should have stabbed his tongue, then I wouldn’t be standing here getting tattled on like some pre-school bullshit.
“So, if you stabbed him, why the hell is your ass cheek bleeding?” Rage points to my ass. Frowning, I look to see the small gash in my jean shorts oozing blood down the pocket. Fuck. I love these shorts.
“His hand was on my ass when I stabbed it.” I shrug.
“Wait—” Animal shakes his head, “—you stabbed your own ass to punish, Milk?”
“I don’t like being groped by an inbred freak. I reacted, my ass be damned.” In reality, I’d reacted without thinking at all. The anger took over, and the next thing I knew, Milk was wailing like a bitch and my ass stung.
“I ain’t inbred, you crazy fucking bitch.” I shift my foot in his direction, and he flinches. Pussy.
“Enough.” Animal slams his palm down on the table, making it rattle. “Milk, have Doc stitch you up. Lily, for fuck’s sake, stop stabbing brothers.”It’s only been three.They all deserved it.
“Is that it? She tried to kill me!” Milk belts out.
“If I wanted to kill you, you’d have a hole in your head, not your hand, dumbass.” How this waste of leather ever earned his patch, I’ll never know. I roll my eyes and cross my arms, my gaze landing on the new guys again. The lighter twirler is stone-faced, his eyes flitting between Milk and me and my ass, his fist tightening around the lighter. The other one grins like we know each other and share a joke.
Leaning into my space, Milk hisses, “You better watch your back.” I fist my hands, itching under my skin to maim him.
“You had to go and do it, didn’t you?” Rage groans, rubbing his hands down his face.
A shadow bleeds over Milk’s body, heavy-footed boots stopping behind him. “Tell me I didn’t hear you threaten my baby sister?” Jameson towers over Milk, dwarfing him.
The color drains from Milk’s face. If I weren’t royally pissed off, it would be funny. Jameson places a bottle of whiskey on the table, juggling five glasses between his fingers.
Turning, Milk holds up his hand. “She stabbed me.”
“You’re lucky to still have the hand,” Jameson warns him.
“Why do they call you Milk?” the grinner asks, cutting through the atmosphere.
“Because he sucked on his mama’s tits until he was a teen.” I scrunch my nose.
“I was nine,” he defends pathetically, and I almost gag.
“Still fucking gross,” Rage points out. A smile curls my lips.
“Can you go and get yourselves cleaned up? You’re making a fucking mess.” Animal gestures to the small puddle at Milk’s feet. My blood has dripped down my leg and filled the back of my boot.
“Monroe is out back with Drew. Have her stitch you up.” Jameson jerks his head at me.
“Thanks. I will,” Milk grumbles and goes to leave.
“Not you, pervert,” Jameson sneers, grabbing his shoulder, halting his steps. “I was talking to Lily.”
“Well, who’s going to fix me?” Milk looks between Jameson and Animal.
“A therapist?” the grinner pipes up, making himself and Rage chuckle.
“Who the fuck are you again?” Milk asks him. Animal straightens his back and leans forward, steepling his fingers.
“They’re my guests. Now, fuck off before I give you a real wound to cry about.”
Mumbling under his breath, Milk shuffles away, disappearing out the back exit.