“She’s just doing her job, man,” Jerry says. He turns around before we enter the closed office door. I close the distance between us and pull Cub up to me. I don’t want her away from my side. She has to stay close, just in case.
“Who do you work for?” I keep my voice as low as possible. Jerry is respected around here, and I don’t want him to lose that. One of the reasons this works so well is we put people in charge who command respect from their men but who fear us. If he loses that respect, I have to start over training another lapdog, and I fucking hate teaching some bitch how to kiss my ass properly.
“You,” he grits out. His red face deepens in color as his neck muscles strain from the tension in his body.
“Forsaken owns this land, owns both operations here, and owns your ass. Do. Not. Forget. That.” He doesn’t move or breathe. He’s pissed and doesn’t like to be reminded that he’s expendable. “I’m feeling charitable, so I’m not going to make you pay for your fuckup.”
“And what about yours?” he seethes. His eyes slide halfway to Cub and then back to me. “What would your father say about you bringing the Mancuso rat to work?”
Anger floods my vision with his words bouncing around in my head on fucking repeat. He knows who she is, but what’s worse is he just disrespected her. In our world there’s two things you don’t disrespect—another man’s patch or his woman. The penalty in Forsaken’s world for either is death. The only question is should I do it now or after our little meeting?
Cub gives my hand a firm squeeze and pulls me backward. I take one step back to pacify her and lock my body in place, refusing to be moved again. Her grip lightens, and as it does, I notice the intense shaking of her fingers. Even her wrist is vibrating from how terrified she must be. Fuck. I don’t want this for her. I can’t hold her right now, and I can’t run out of here with her. All I can do it squeeze her hand back and hope she knows what it means—that I love her and she’s safe. I’ll die protecting her if that’s what it takes, but I’d rather get a ring on her finger before that shit happens.
“Our president would be incredibly displeased to hear how little respect you’ve paid his stepdaughter,” she says. Her voice isn’t all that steady as she speaks, but she gets it out without crumbling, and for that, I’m proud of her. She’s chosen her words carefully. She doesn’t call him Pop or Jim—which she would to family—and she doesn’t address the rat comment. She just lays it out.
“Heard rumors you’d taken up with someone you shouldn’t. Just surprised to see it walk onto the ranch for everybody to see,” he says, ignoring her. “Some of my guys heard it, too. Started questioning Forsaken’s judgment.”
“The fuck did you just say, Jerry?” Duke barks. Cub and I turn our heads around to see Duke and Ian standing in the open doorway with Baby Boy’s back to them. Duke and Jerry have had a longstanding pissing match since Jerry insulted Duke’s mom about five years back. The two have been out for blood since, and for once, I’m fucking grateful for it. “Because I sure as fuck know you ain’t talking shit about my patch or my brother’s girl.”
“Duke,” Jerry says flatly.
Beside Duke, Ian’s right hand hangs loose at his side and twitches intermittently. Even though Ian doesn’t talk much, he’s far more likely to pull out his gun first, which raises my hackles more than a little. The way Ian is with the people he cares about is both admirable and terrifying. He’s one of the few people I know will have my back regardless of how I fuck up in life. Once that asshole bonds with you, he’s the most loyal dude I’ve ever met.
Doing my best to contain the situation, I meet Ian’s eyes and slowly shake my head. He can’t pull his gun first and make this shit even worse than it already is. As much as I’d love to give my brother the gift of relieving the tension, we just can’t go down that road right now.
“Apologize to my sister.” Ian redirects his attention to Jerry, who shifts in place. There’s a muted clicking sound coming from behind us that makes my stomach sink. I know that sound damn well. It sounds like Jerry’s getting too big for his britches.
In an instant, I let go of Cub’s hand and shove her backward while withdrawing my thirty-eight from the back of my jeans and spinning around just as Jerry is withdrawing his gun. Duke and Ian step forward, both drawing their guns and pointing them while sandwiching Cub between them and Jeremy. In less than a minute, we’re surrounded by Jerry’s guys pointing their pieces at our chests. Fuck.
“Should have left her in the van,” Duke grinds out through clenched teeth.