“Why are you so sad about it? You knew what you were doing, you could have said no.”
“At the time, I thought my uncle was right. But over the years, the manipulation my uncle’s had on my men and club, the lies I’ve caught him in… I’m not so sure anymore.”
His shoulder blades twitch, his biceps flexing. He’s angry, and clearly upset. It makes me want to help him, take the pain away.
“I saw the files of your uncle, and the club. To me, it seems like your uncle is trying to turn your club into some kind of gang, an Italian mafia of some sort. People won’t admit it, but it was suggested that your uncle is already shaking small businesses down in exchange for protection, and that he’s using your men.” Zeek’s eyes widen, telling me he either already knows this, or at least suspected it.
Tearing his gaze from mine, he wrings his hands once again.
“I tried to get my brother Lip to come in, give me someone to trust. We grew up hating one another, but I thought maybe we could set that shit aside. I was wrong. He threw my club in my face, turned his back on me. I fucked up, got in a war with him. We nearly killed each other.”
“Wow.” I shake my head, not sure what to say about his brother. I can see the hurt and abandonment in his eyes. Sure, he’s rough around the edges and goes about shit the wrong way, but he’s like that bully you can’t help but feel sorry for. You know he had it rough, and is acting out the best way he knows how. I palm his cheek affectionately, the scruff abrasive against my soft skin.
Pulling his face from my hands, he takes a deep breath. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” He looks down, his head hanging. I suck in a deep breath, trying to think of my next question as I sit down beside him. He says he’s terrible at relationships, but has he ever loved a woman? I asked him once, and he never answered me. The thought makes me jealous.
“Have you ever been in love?”
“No.” He doesn’t lift his head, doesn’t even look at me.
“No?”
“I had one serious relationship, but it ended before it ever got to that point. Not that I think it ever would have. She was a bitch.” He raises his head, his eyes finally meeting mine. They hold a sense of pain.
“What happened?”
He smirks. “That’s three questions. My turn.”
My heart sinks. I didn’t know he got to ask questions, too.
“Tell me about your parents.” Oh, God! “Were they great? Did you… read books together on Christmas Eve? Were you that picture-perfect family you see on TV?”
Tucking my feet under me, I let out a shallow breath.
“Not really. My father was always working, and my mother was always out trying to help those who were less fortunate. I stayed home and watched Christmas movies. Every day was pretty much similar to that. My father works for the sheriff’s department, but he’s retiring. My mother is one of those women who exercises her rights every chance she gets. She’s always protesting, or something. They were good parents, but very protective. Sometimes, I feel like I lived such a sheltered life, that I never really lived till I met you.”
The corner of his mouth curves into a smirk, and his large palm squeezes my thigh affectionately.
“Okay, you get one more question.”
His face goes serious, his brows pinched together in thought. “Be mine.” His face raises, those dark eyes hard.
My smirk fades, my heart pounding. His? Like an old woman, old lady—whatever they call them in the club?
“Yours how? Like, your girlfriend? Old lady? Wife?” My voice is frantic, and I’m rambling.
He squints. “Just mine.”
“You don’t think this is too fast?” I start trying to count how long we’ve been together. Has it been days? Weeks?
He turns, grabbing my waist and lifting me to where I’m straddling him.
“I’ve lived fast my whole life, Rookie. This is anything but fast. I cooked you breakfast this morning, and I don’t cook anyone breakfast.”
A giggle escapes me. “Was that your courting?” He nods, a big, toothy grin crossing his face. “I thought so.”
My hands rub the scruff on his cheek, the scar on his chin shining against the light.
“What happened here?”
He tilts his head to the side. “I’m pretty sure your questions are up.”
I scowl. “I could guess.”
“You could.”
“Hmm. Did you sleep with another member’s mom?” His eyes narrow, conveying he didn’t.
“Did you… hustle a game of pool and get stabbed in the chin with the cue?” He laughs, so I know that’s not it. At this point, I’m really just pulling stuff from the air.
“Okay, you’re making the real reason behind the scar look small. I got cut in a fight.”
“Really, you couldn’t tell me that?”
His hands slide up and down my sides. “I think I’ll just tell everyone I got impaled by a cue stick. Sounds badass, right?”
His gaze rolls across my chest hungrily, his fingers touching every inch of bare skin on my hips and stomach. A familiar warmth builds in my limbs, my body awakening with his rough touch.
“You got a third question, so I get one.”