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“No!” roared Legend, springing from his chair and charging Lynx. “Again, you’re following your nose for pussy instead of your brain for an ounce of common sense!”
Lynx was nowhere as bulky as Legend but there was no mistaking the two men were practically identical.
Father and son.
Shit!
Youngin’ yelled back, “She’s a fucking stripper! Not mafia, you senile coot!”
Stepping into Lynx’s face, this President thundered, “For a fucking club that has been closed since your mother was murdered?”
I gasped because I had heard about her death. I also gasped because of what he had just said… in front of me.
Legend smirked at me with icy rage in his haunting eyes. “Ya see, son? This ‘stripper’ even knows me being so open in front of her means she’s going to ground.”
I started to quake and continued to lie, denying I knew anything of the sort.
“Oh yeah?” Legend was now in my face, the scent of tobacco and whiskey filling my nose.
“Whiskey.” I spared a glance at my drink of choice, then got back to reading.
There was no point in struggling to get free when Legend started digging into my purse hanging at my stomach. These men weren’t like the other clubs I had faced in the states. The others had all wanted between my thighs to the point they didn’t even suspect my true intensions.
Legend’s search quickly profited.
As he wiggled my gun in his son’s face, he condescendingly asked, “Think it’s loaded, dumbass?”
It was. What is the point of having an unloaded gun?
The President glared at me with mounting suspicion. “Kick off your boot.”
My heart was hammering by this point. I was about to die, meaning I’d failed her.
Not that I wouldn’t go down without my pride. Again, I lifted my chin in defiance, refusing to give him my shoe.
The cold barrel of my own gun was pressed against my temple as angry spit flew. “I said kick off your fucking boot!”
As soon as I did, he threw it to a man with a cut, his patch reading Vice President, Lu.
‘Lu’ inspected my boot and pulled free the knife that had been taped to the inside.
Shakily, I pulled air through my nose. My last breaths were limited. I had just entered an MC compound with hidden weapons, putting the President’s son in direct danger.
Legend ripped my other boot from me, tossing it to the man with the eye patch. “Dag.”
If my bladder hadn’t been empty due to not caring for myself properly and drinking water regularly, I would’ve pissed my skirt because ‘Dag’ may have had only one blue eye, but was now an executioner, speaking to me with no words. The man rose from his chair with such building anger my lips parted and I struggled to breathe.
With a full magazine for my gun in his hand, he prowled forward. “Were you going to kill my boy?”
I blinked, confused and concerned about how many father figures Youngin’ had. He was a truly well-cared-for MC prince.
My thoughts came to a halt when my cheeks were suddenly in a hazardously strong grip. “I’m talking to you, bitch.”
Lynx’s tone, unlike when speaking to his da, was with no malice, “Dag, I’m okay,” but the man paid him no mind.
Only me.
My throat was dry from pure fear.
