The older man stepped forward, flexing one fist. Brass closed the distance between them, pushing his chest against the stranger, tipping his head in the air.
“Go ahead and break my jaw if you don't believe me, Crack. Missy's my fucking property now, and I know how to handle what's mine. I know where club biz begins and ends. I'm not telling her shit, and we're leaving so she doesn't stick her ears anywhere they don't belong here. Shit, I'll watch her and the baby girl day and night if I have to, just as soon as my woman's got my brand stamped on her skin.” Brass paused, sucking in a hot, angry breath. “Go ahead and knock my fucking teeth out if you got a problem with that. Just know they're gonna be yours if you do.”
I held my breath. The man had balls, and he was fighting for us in his own twisted way. I couldn't deny him that.
The older man's fist jerked – down to his side. With an angry swipe of the arm, he gave Brass a hard push. He caught himself against the wall, never taking his eyes off Crack's snarling face.
“Just get 'em the fuck outta my sight!” the VP roared. “You'd better make sure their mouths are sewn shut for your own damned sake. I won't hesitate to take you out back and use the Mauler on you myself if I hear a peep about either of those bitches going to daddy's old friends. The last fucking thing this club needs is cops sniffing around when the cartel's at our throats.”
Brass didn't say anything. He nodded once, then turned, leaving the raging volcano behind.
When he caught up to me, he grabbed my hand more fiercely this time, throwing open the door. We headed for a rusted old pickup and he opened the passenger door, waving Jackie and I inside.
I helped my sis get in and climbed in myself while he took the driver's side.
“Cover your eyes 'til we're through the gate,” Brass growled, backing the truck down a small parking strip. “Can't have either of you looking at this place and it's layout. I'll tell you when it's okay to see again.”
Jackie gave me an uncertain look. “Do it,” I mouthed silently, covering her eyes with one hand.
She struggled against me for a second, but then relented. We rode for about five to ten minutes in pure silence, listening to the truck's engine humming.
Keeping my brain from going to a thousand pitch black places was a constant struggle. I didn't want to believe he was going to hurt us or drop off our lifeless bodies – especially not after he'd put up such a convincing show – but I just didn't know.
I didn't know anything about this man except that he was a slightly smoother cog in the brutal machine called the Grizzlies MC. Trusting him wasn't going to happen – not without knowing we had our lives.
“Okay. You can open your eyes now,” he said firmly.
Uncovering Jackie's first, I looked out through the windshield into the night. We were definitely back in town, judging by all the bright lights. Just in time to watch him turn down a narrow residential street I'd seen a few times before.
We pulled up next to an old square three story building and he killed the engine, then reached past Jackie and I for the glove compartment. I watched him pull out a plastic tag and hang it on the rear view mirror.
“What're we doing here?” Jackie asked, beating me to the punch.
“Sleeping, eating, shitting. Looking pretty.” I frowned at his crude answer. “Whatever the hell you girls do in your off hours. This is your new home.”
I swallowed. It was too good to be true. Well, as 'good' as having a bland new apartment handed to us by a thug like Brass could be.
He got out and slammed his door without saying another word, stopping by the building's glass door to wait for us. I held Jackie's hand until she shook me off.
Whatever, as long as she was following my footsteps.
The place had that eighties feel, and it smelled just as old too. But after three days in the stinking clubhouse, anything was an improvement. Brass led us up a small staircase and stopped at the second door on the right.
“Number 205. That's your new place.” He shoved a key in and popped the door, holding it open for us.
We stepped inside. The biggest surprise was seeing the place fully furnished. The couch, chairs, and little dining table next to the kitchen weren't going to win any awards for fashion, but they looked clean and functional. I walked around, eyeing my new home, leaning close to the tacky brown sofa and giving it a sniff.
Thank God. The smoky old stink of the clubhouse wasn't bleeding out the cushions, so he hadn't gotten it from there.
Jackie walked straight into the little hall. I joined her a second later, wondering why she looked so perked up.
“Two bedrooms!” she chirped. “That's a lot better than the crap I thought he'd –“