“Oh yes it is,” I say, with a grin. “What kind of mafia princess doesn’t learn how to shoot a gun?”
“The passive kind,” she grumbles, looking at my .38 she’s holding with both hands. I force myself to keep grinning, avoiding the impending anxiety that’s creeping up. When I first handed the gun over to her, I was nervous as fuck. I mean, I’d never given a chick I was fucking my piece before. But Cub doesn’t know how to shoot, and with everything going on, she has to learn. I don’t give a fuck how difficult she’s being about it. Hell, even if Junior wasn’t on his way here, I’d still teach her how to shoot. Yesterday, I gave up being pissed that her fucktard of a father didn’t teach her sooner.
It’s been days since I’ve spent more than ten minutes without Cub by my side. I’m getting way too comfortable falling asleep with her curled into my side, and waking up with her half on top of me. The longer it takes for something fucked to happen, the more on edge I get. Despite spending pretty much every minute with Cub and her pussy, which I swear is made out of unicorns or some shit, I can feel the tension in my bones. She walks around acting like she doesn’t really care what’s going on or the sacrifices the club is making to keep her tight little ass safe. I’m trying not to let her piss me off, but damn it, she’s working my last nerve. It doesn’t help that I haven’t had a drink or any bud since before Church the other day.
“You’re doing it again,” she says, handing the gun back to me. Her smiles falls, giving way to a grimace. I click the safety lock and shove it in the back of my waist.
“Doing what?” I ask, trying to keep the strain out of my voice.
“That thing with your neck. You keep tensing your jaw, and it makes the veins in your neck pop out. It’s creepy.”
“I’m on edge,” I say and blow out a deep breath. Pussy or not, she’s driving me nuts with all of her observations. The only time I seem to be able to keep from snapping is when I’ve got my dick inside her. “It’d be nice if you acted like you fucking got it. This shit isn’t a game. It’s a big fucking deal.”
She puts her hands on her hips and shakes her head. Her chest heaves, straining her tits against her top, and I find myself thinking of sucking on them again. Fucking unicorn pussy, I’m telling you. “Oh, I get it, you stupid jerk. My brother’s on his way to kill me. You don’t think I get it?”
“No, I don’t think you do,” I snap back. She steps forward, narrowing her eyes and huffing. Having watched her for days now, months even, I can tell when she’s about to cry. She’s always about to cry. I want to tell her to suck it the fuck up and chill out, but that goes against what I’m trying to do here. I need her to clue in to the reality of the situation.
“You’re an idiot,” she hisses and spins around, swaying her ass as she goes. The night sky is settling in, and it’s getting too dark for her to be outside anyway. The air is getting chilly out here in the field. The farther she gets away from me, the worse the tightening in my chest gets. I don’t like her being so far out of reach. Thankfully, we’ve doubled security on the house since the boys returned from Nevada, and we have brand new firepower that came with them. As much as I’m attached to my .38, there’s no denying the power from the altered semi’s the boys have outside.
Walking fast to catch up to her, I get halfway to the house before I realize what I’m doing. I’m chasing some chick like a sad fucking puppy. Fuck. This shit ain’t me. I’ve seen this shit with Ma and Pop for years. She gets upset and, no matter how tough he tries to act, he fucking follows her. Doesn’t matter how much posturing goes on around the table with the brothers, I see them with their Old Ladies. Fucking pussies, all of them. It fucks them up.
We all heard about it before we were patched. Hell, even before we were prospects—the club comes first. It’s always supposed to come first. But put some bitch with the right smile, a tight ass, at the exact right time in front of a brother, and he’s a fucking goner. And that shit bleeds over into everything he does, inside the club, outside the club. It doesn’t fucking matter. All the loyalty and promises made to the club are forgotten when a brother hooks up.
That misbegotten loyalty and fucking diversion from the club is exactly why we’re in this mess right now. Pop met Ma, and as much as I’m fucking glad he did, he made promises to her that could get his brothers killed. And because those fucking morons believe in the cause and the old bastard, they didn’t vote against him when it came time for his ass to cash that check he promised her so many years ago.