Lip looks at me, and crosses his arms. The way he takes a deep breath conveying what he’s about to say is hard for him.
“He’s my brother, he’s family. As much as I hate his ass and want him out of here. I can’t turn my back on family. It’s just as much my fault as it is Zeek’s with what went down. I disrespected his club, and his name. We all know when someone spits on our club colors, it’s open grounds for war.” He runs his hands back and forth through his hair. As much as I don’t want him defending me, he’s right. In our world, if someone disrespects another club’s colors, it’s game fucking on. That’s what happened between us, a fucking war. “Zeek wasn’t here to hurt Tom Cat, he was here for me. I haven’t been the brother I should have been, and I need to fix this. I understand if none of you get that, I do. Cause truthfully, I’m not sure that I fucking get it.” Shaking his head, he looks down. I can tell he doesn’t want to help me, but feels the need to. The club is silent, everyone looking between Lip and me.
“I get that, son, I do,” Bull adds, blowing smoke into the air.
“Doesn’t mean I forgive him.” Lip hits me with a hard stare.
“I can live with that,” I state, turning to face him fully. “You don’t have to do this though, I take full responsibility for what I did. I don’t expect you or any of your men to help me. Coming here…” I run my hands through my hair. “I just didn’t know where else to take Jillian to keep her safe.”
“I have a friend in Vegas, works as a trooper. I’ll give him a call, see if I can work in a favor.” Bull rubs his chin thoughtfully.
“I’d appreciate that.” I nod gratefully.
“I have a bike you can use to get back to Vegas, too, I’ll get the prospect to pull it out,” Lip offers.
I am taken aback, watching the Devils work together and come up with a solution. And they’re doing it all for Lip. They have his back, regardless if I deserve any of this or not. This is the brotherhood that Lip wanted, what he deserves. Comparing my club to theirs, we lack that kind of loyalty. Hard. If I was Bull, and this was my club I wouldn’t be breathing.
This is a fucking brotherhood.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Jillian
THE SUV COMES TO A STOP, the doors open and close as Cross and Alfeo get out.
“Come on, puttana,” Frank snarls his insult as I’m hauled from the car and greeted with the Vegas lights. I’m back home. My eyes squint as I take in the surroundings. It looks to be some kind of private entrance to Sin Casino. A small garage with a private elevator.
“Move.” Cross shoves me hard toward the door, but my mind is in a whirlwind. Where is Zeek? How long was I in the car for? “I said move!” Cross grips me by the hair, throwing me forward. Resisting, I cup my hands and slam my elbow in his chest. He grunts and snatches me by the hair again, strands snapping at the scalp painfully. Pulling my head back, his lips skim along my ear.
“You think you’re tough, Kitty? All you’re doing is making my dick hard. I like a bitch who can fight.” He bites my ear and I cry out with pain. “Now fucking MOVE!” He thrusts me into the garage and towards the elevator doors.
“You’ll learn to stop fighting, my dear.” Frank smiles tightly, one bushy brow raised.
Stepping into the elevator it smells like Frank, expensive cologne. The floor is carpeted red, and the walls mirrored. The doors shut, and we zip up in such a rush I feel my stomach tickle.
The elevator dings, and before you know it the doors open to a private suite.
Floor to ceiling windows line the left side of the entire floor. Red carpet, and white and gold sequined wallpaper line the other walls. There is a black granite countertop and kitchen on the right side, and a small living space facing the windows, made up of plush black couches and chairs.
“Secure her in one of the bar stools, I’m going to take a piss.” Frank points to a high-back wooden barstool, and walks off into a side room.
The two men turn toward me and I shrink in fear. Up close they appear much bigger and muscular.
Alfeo grips my arm and I jerk it back. Using my knee I try and jab it into the back of Cross’s kneecap but he reacts too quickly.
“Aw, I almost forgot we’re not dealing with just any damsel in distress,” Alfeo chuckles.
“Yeah, she’s a feisty little bitch.” The way Cross says it, it sounds like Ron James. It’s completely twisted.
Rage fuels my mind, fear filling my limbs, and I scream loudly. My head pounds with my heartbeat as my face turns beet red. I’m praying someone in another room hears me. Cross reaches out for me, but I side step him, tears trying to fill my eyes.
“Honey, don’t make this complicated,” Alfeo shakes his head.
“Fuck you, don’t call me honey.” I pant out of breath. Honey, who the fuck does he think he is?