“It shouldn’t,” I agreed. “But it does.”
Laurie may not have believed in the barriers that were between me and my feelings, but they became clear and unsurpassable later. When I was back at the clubhouse that night, when I was hanging out, focusing on not doing my homework while Lucky talked me through the installation of a small but effective car bomb.
I didn’t do empty threats.
“What the fuck, Rosie?” Cade twirled the barstool I was swinging on so I came face-to-face with his steely glare. The angry bark was scary enough—he’d perfected it as soon as he’d gone through puberty, at ten—but he only really liked it when he could pair it with his signature death glare. Perfected also around the age of ten.
They stopped working on me around a week after that when I figured my brother could be scary to everyone but me. His one and only soft spot, even if soft for him was marble.
I utilized it.
I fluttered my eyelashes in an innocent look I’d perfected. “What? It’s not like I plan on anyone being in the car when I blow it up.”
Lucky pushed off his seat. “I plan on having children, or at least being a huge whore until I’m eighty, so I’m leaving before Cade can do anything about that,” he muttered, then scuttled off.
Unexpectedly, Cade didn’t even glance at Lucky.
“You talked to Crawford today,” he bit out.
I tilted my head, something pooling in my stomach at the knowledge in his gaze. “Um, he was wandering around the halls. It’s a small place, so we conversed. It’s a job hazard.” I went for flippant, casual. “Plus, how would you even know?” I asked with narrowed eyes.
Even though he was twenty-one now—just like Luke—Cade had dropped out and started prospecting the moment he turned sixteen. Not exactly club policy, but an exception was made for the children of founding members and adopted children of current presidents.
Hence the chilled beer sitting in front of me.
Not that Cade would let anyone walk away with all their teeth if they insinuated that Steg was anything more than his president. He hated him with something I didn’t understand. Steg was the only father I knew.
“Are you spying on me?” I accused.
He didn’t blink at the sharpness in my tone. “I’m looking out for you.”
“I can look out for myself,” I snapped, crossing my arms.
Cade raised a brow, silently reminding me of all the trouble I’d landed in so far. Most of which I’d gotten out of without help. “Not when the club has shit going down. And not when you’re talking to the enemy.”
I scoffed. “Luke is hardly an enemy, Cade. Get out of the Middle Ages. Just because you don’t like him doesn’t mean I can’t talk to him. You know, being polite. I know they don’t teach manners in caveman biker badass schools—you’re too busy specializing in grunts, death stares, and waterboarding.”
He didn’t like my humor. “You’re not polite to Crawford, Rosie.”
I rolled my eyes, hopping off my stool and intending to saunter off and get the last of the instructions off Lucky. “Whatever.”
Cade clutched my arm, stopping me from moving, the grip bordering on painful. That in itself shocked me enough to freeze.
Cade was what could be considered a violent man. A fully patched member of the Sons of Templar MC was required to be a violent man.
But never had he put his hands on me. Never.
He yanked me forward so his gaze was all I could see. “I know you like to push the limits, Roe. Break the rules. Trouble is your thing. I get it. Scares the shit out of me since your version of trouble is blowin’ up cars, not sneaking a beer.” He eyed the one at the bar. “But fuck, I approve. It’s you. I’ll never stop you from being you. But this is the limit you aren’t pushing. One rule you can’t break. Crawford is the law.”
“He’s not, Cade. He’s just Luke,” I said on a whisper.
“No he’s not, and you know that,” he clipped. “The second he put that uniform on, he was comin’ for the club. Ain’t worried about that. We can handle that. But anyone who comes for our family, they’re an enemy. We don’t talk to the enemy, we don’t smile, and we don’t be fuckin’ polite. A member would be excommunicated if they were lucky, Roe. Not many lucky Sons.” He gave me a long look. “You get spoiled here. We love you. Steg loves you. You’re not his blood but he considers you so. But even blood won’t matter if he sees betrayal. And that’s what he’ll consider it. It’s my job, first and foremost, to protect you, Roe. I’ll die doing it if I have to, but I can’t protect you from the club. You need to know this isn’t teenage girl bullshit. This is serious.”