“Looks like it to me,” Rex grumbled, then he grunted as he raised the weight, held it a second, then slowly lowered his arm. “And the punch bag attests to it.”
“Who’s been eating the dictionary?” Link called out from the treadmill.
Rex just snorted. “Don’t buy me ‘word a day’ toilet paper for Christmas, and I won’t have a better lexicon than you.”
“Fucking Kendra,” I groused. “No Christmas gifts this year. We’re fucking outlaws. Buying Christmas gifts, my ass.” I gave the punching bag a cross then another jab before I snarled, “Secret Santa was a fucking joke.”
Link laughed. “I kinda liked it.”
“That’s because Sugartits bought you a butt plug,” Rex said dryly.
“Hey, can I help it that I appreciate my G-spot being massaged?”
“Nobody gives a fuck,” I snapped, “until you keep mentioning it all the time.”
“That’s because it’s a revelation. Best orgasm ever.”
“I know. I’m next door. I feel like you’re finding Jesus every time you get off,” Storm retorted as he taped up his wrists. The sound of the tape had my ears pricking up like a bloodhound on the alert for steak.
I stopped smacking the shit out of the punching bag, only grabbing it a hairsbreadth before it connected with me. As I absorbed its momentum, I wondered how the fucker had stayed connected to the ceiling without falling off.
Maybe Rex was right.
I was on edge.
On edge.
Not fucking antsy.
I eyed Storm and asked, “You want to spar?”
“Do I look like I have a death wish?” he responded wryly. “No way in fuck am I fighting with you when you’re in this mood. What’s bitten you on the balls today?”
I narrowed my eyes on him. “Nothing.”
Link snorted. “Yeah, nothing my butt plug-filled ass.”
“See? What’s with the fucking references to the butt plug?” I growled, before I scowled. “How the fuck can you run with that shit in there anyway?”
He smirked. “Mini orgasms.”
“Bullshit,” Rex countered, but he eyed him through the mirror. “If I even think that’s true, I’m taking your cut from you. No way do I want to be anywhere near your cum.”
Link chuckled. “You were ten feet from it yesterday when I was boning Lottie on the pool table.”
“That’s different. I expect to be close to way too much DNA in the bar. But in here? Fuck that shit.”
“That’s what I told Lottie last night,” Link replied with a laugh.
“If you’re supposed to be putting me in a better frame of mind, you’re failing. The lot of you,” I grated out.
“What’s wrong with wittle Nyx?” Storm mocked, making me squint at him.
“Be grateful you’re too much of a pussy to spar with me.”
He just grinned, but I turned away with a sniff to beat the punching bag up some more.
I tuned out the fuckers who were chatting in the gym like we were a bunch of chicks getting our hair done at the local salon, and when I was finished, I flipped them the bird and hollered, “Later,” at the group of them. Pussy-assed douchewads. Especially Storm.
Dipshit was too much of a goddamn coward to spar with me.
Fucker.
As I strolled out of the gym, I headed upstairs to the first floor, but I paused when I heard arguing in the kitchen.
For a second, I hesitated over elbowing my way in there. For a bunch of cunts who hated cooking, the snatches were all super territorial over the fact that Giulia had taken their place. That was probably why I’d seen more of her these past few days, now that I came to think of it. It had nothing to do with me wanting to visit her in the kitchen, nope, no sir, it was down to the fact I’d had more of the sweetbutts coming to me over broken noses, pulled hair, and sprained wrists after they’d gotten physical with Giulia and she’d defended herself.
Christ, I’d been dealing with them more than ever before. Most of the whores were bitchy. That was almost a given, and something we dealt with because bitchiness was better than having to fuck our fists. But violent? Not until recently. Giulia might have been pint-sized, but she put Floyd Mayweather to shame when it came down to getting ready to throw a punch.
That the snatches thought I’d chastise her over the shit they pulled was a testament to the fact they knew I hated violence against women. But that meant I had more of the bitches whining at me than anyone else, and when you were the Enforcer, people whined at you a helluva lot. I just preferred it when the brothers complained over the club snatch and not the snatch about our new cook.
The raised voices got even louder, and though Giulia was the last person I wanted to see today, especially after her dismissal this morning, I stormed into the kitchen and glared at the four sluts who were eying Giulia like she was prey.
And they said the males were the deadlier of the species.
Right.
Rubbing my hand over my hair, I took in the fact that though Tink, Lottie, JoJo, and Enya looked on the brink of pouncing, Giulia was handling her knife in a way that told me she wasn’t above slicing and dicing.
Because that made my cock ache, I shoved down the thought of her using that knife with intent, and ground out, “Why the fuck am I having to umpire shit between you again?”
Giulia’s eyes flared wide. “I haven’t done shit! I’m trying to make a fucking pot roast for dinner, and these fucking skanks come in here, acting like the Big. I. Am as though they rule the goddamn roost—”
I held up a hand to stop the tirade which, in fairness, had been somewhat deserved, because I’d sounded as though I was blaming her when I wasn’t. Centering my attention on Tink, I scowled at her. “I want it known that you need to back the fuck off of Giulia, Tink. I’m sick of this shit, and I don’t need you starting crap either.”
“She’s hurting the girls,” the other woman whined, and I only put up with that tone of voice due to the fact that she was the oldest and the de facto leader of the clubwhores.
I hated whiners.
With a fucking passion.
Gripping the back of my neck, and praying for patience, I stated, “No more of this shit. Giulia is defending herself against the sweetbutts who come in here looking for trouble. As far as I’m aware, anyway, you bitches hated cooking, so why the hell you’re arguing over this—”
“It’s the principle,” Enya snapped.
“What principle?” I growled, a tic pinging at the muscles at the side of my mouth. She gulped at the sight, aware I was pissed at being interrupted.
“She gets paid,” Lottie muttered, ducking her head to avoid my scowl.
“So?”
Giulia snorted. “I think they’re pouting that I get paid for my job, whereas they have to suck dick and fuck ugly bastards like you for room and board.”
The other women drew in a breath, but there was anticipation in their eyes, an anticipation that was founded in the belief they thought I was going to ream her a new one.
Instead, I focused on them and explained, “She’s Dog’s daughter. She isn’t a slut like you. Fuck off out of here, and the next time you question the Prez’s word or order, I’ll make sure he knows about it.” When they scampered off, I didn’t watch them go. Even if Enya was wearing a G-string that I knew from experience framed her butt to perfection, I kept my focus on the pain in my ass who’d been getting under my skin since she’d arrived.