“How in the fuck would you know that?” I ask, approaching the couch.
“I packed her stuff,” he replies with a grin. “She might be missing a pair of panties.”
At his admission, I snatch him up by the collar of his shirt. “You bring me her belongings, and if I ever catch you looking at her or even thinking about her fucking panties, I’ll slit your damn throat!”
“Easy, bro,” Munsey says.
“Family is off-limits, so, Skylar Baker is off-fucking-limits!”
Dash nods. “I understand. It won’t ever happen again.”
“You’re damn right it won’t,” I hiss and shove him back down on the couch.
I’m using the excuse that he’s breaking club rules, but my behavior is solely about pure jealousy. I can’t fucking stand the idea that Dash has a pair of Skylar’s panties he’s hidden somewhere for his spank bank.
It’s not like I’ve been innocent the past five years, and I highly doubt she has been either, but damn it, the thought of someone else wanting or having what I consider mine doesn’t sit well with me.
Christ, how am I going to survive with her here? Before, I could keep myself busy with the club, the construction work, and when shit got really bad, I could bury myself deep inside a willing woman and forget the past.
But now? Skylar is here, and although I’m not the same man I used to be, she still looked at me like I was, even if it was only for a brief moment.
If she knew the things I did for the club, the things I enjoyed doing for this club, she would never look at me like that again.
Hunter shielded her from this life for a reason. Hell, he even shielded her from their dad’s gambling debt. Skylar had no clue that she was ever in danger, and Hunter made sure of that.
She has one hell of a chip on her shoulders, and I’m not the only one who put it there. The three of us were close, and Hunter left much the same way I did. He did tell her he was going to work to take care of their family, but she didn’t see the fruits of his labor. She saw a brother that abandoned her, and then I did the same thing.
Damn, I can’t blame her for slugging me like she did, and it’s going to take a lot for me to knock that ton of fucking bricks off her damn shoulders.
It takes me half an hour of digging through my things to find something decent to wear to go out job hunting. Of course, that is if another hospital will hire me after I left Brewton Medical without giving two weeks’ notice.
Damn it, I want to go crawling back to them, and that’s exactly what I should do, but I haven’t gathered enough courage to have that conversation with Hunter. I also haven’t found him yet. After he showed me to my room, it’s like he disappeared. Each time I think I’ve found him, it’s another muscled-up and tattooed dude. How many of them live here?
Annoyed, I smooth down the front of the black pencil skirt and pick a piece of lint off my pink top. I slide on the pair of black heels I had on yesterday and leave my room. I stop by the bathroom and make a face at how disgusting it is. It’s very clear that no females live here. The sink has chin pubes all over the place, and there are actual pubes in the bathtub and toilet. I won’t even mention what’s in the garbage can, or not in the garbage can for that matter.
I gingerly place my toiletry bag on the counter, digging through it to find my hairbrush and not giving a shit that I accidentally pull out a tampon. They can deal with it. I’m just happy my period ended last week, so I don’t have to deal with that while living here.
I brush my hair and teeth before adding a touch of makeup to complete my look. I don’t bother returning the bag to my room. If I’m going to be here a few more days, these men need to get used to it. Tampons and all. Maybe it’ll be a hint that they need to tidy up a bit and will remind them a woman is staying here now.
It’s probably no use, though. Hunter introduced me to the men who were with him yesterday, but I don’t even remember all of their names, and they’ve most likely forgotten mine too. I tell myself there is no point in getting to know them. I’m out of here soon. Our paths will most likely never cross again.
When I’m finished in the bathroom, I pull my phone out and check on the Uber I ordered. I’m shocked he hasn’t shown up and left me already with how long it took me to find something suitable to wear, but the notification says he’s arriving in two minutes. Perfect timing.
I push the door open, and I’m greeted with Jake and the two men who were in the main area last night. He’s wearing a loose-fitting tee and jeans, a construction belt around his waist, and the same leather vest the others are wearing, only his has his name on his badge while the others simply say the word ‘Prospect.’
He arches an eyebrow at me, his gaze going up and down my body. “Going somewhere?”
“Job hunting,” I reply, stepping around his large frame.
One of the prospects announces, “We’ve got company. Blue, four-door sedan approaching the gates.”
“Who the fuck is this?” the other prospect asks, looking up at the camera monitor I hadn’t even realized was there.
“My Uber,” I deadpan with an eye roll.
“Let him in, Munsey, and check him out,” Jake orders, and the guy buzzes the driver in. “You know the drill.”
Before I can go to the car door, Jake grabs my arm, effectively stopping me from taking another step. The dark-haired man I now know as Munsey walks around to the driver’s side and motions for the man to get out. He’s older, maybe in his fifties, and he complies with Munsey’s orders without argument.
“Spread ´em,” Munsey tells him.
“Are you guys fucking serious right now?” I ask, snatching out of Jake’s grasp and walking over to the car.
“We have to check everyone, Skylar,” Jake explains, and I open the back door before sliding down onto the seat, slamming the door in his face.
After the man has been patted down, Munsey tells him to pop the hood and the trunk. The other man opens the passenger door and checks the glovebox and underneath the seats.
“I’m Dash,” he says to me with a wink.
I just glare at him while he finishes inspecting the inside of the car. He closes the door, and the driver gets back in, shaken but okay. The three men step back and allow us to pull off.
“I’m so sorry about that. I had no idea they would do that,” I tell the driver.
“It’s okay, Ms. Baker. The Royal Bastards always inspect the unknown vehicles that come in. I’ve been through this before. It’s a little scary, but I understand.”
The Royal Bastards? So, that’s the name of the club my brother left our family to join. He claimed he was going to work, but he ran off to join a grown man’s frat house.
Now, for whatever reason, I’m being dragged into his world. Now, he suddenly wants to step up and take care of things. Well, I’ve been taking care of things for five years while he was off partying with a bunch of overgrown adolescents.
I have to get out of here. I didn’t depend on him before, and I won’t start doing that now. He may want to cover his body in ink and live in a place where vehicles have to be inspected, but I definitely don’t. This life is not for me.