“Sorry, Prez,” Glenn mutters and quickly slinks away.
I fucking hate him, but I hate him calling me Prez more. My father has been my president for decades and I’ve been his VP for the last four years. And as of this morning, I had to take the gavel from his cold dead hands. Something I didn’t see coming. Something none of us saw fucking coming.
Anger flows freely through my veins as I stomp down the stairs and get to the basement where we have a few rooms to keep shit in. Things, people against their will, who cares about technicalities?
Swinging the door open, I let my gaze land on the floor where the two women are slumped against one another. Both of them are still knocked out cold. I put my boot on the young chick and give a tiny kick to push her off her mother.
She slumps back, legs falling open, exposing her left leg through the large slit in her emerald dress. On the inside of her upper thigh, I notice two long jagged scars before they’re taken from my sight as she groans and moves to sit up.
One of her hands go to her head, the other reaches for her shoes as she pulls off one and then the other. Right when I wonder why the fuck she would take her shoes off while she’s coming to her senses is when she lunges right at me.
A bare foot is planted in the middle of my chest, knocking me back. I deflect her fist and have to fucking brace myself to keep deflecting her attempts to strike where it hurts. It’s not in me to fight a damn woman but if she keeps this up, I will knock her the fuck out.
“Stop or I’ll slice her throat,” Brodie states in a cold, hard voice.
The chick instantly stops but keeps her legs braced and her fists in the air, ready to strike as she assesses her surroundings. Her gaze keeps bouncing between Brodie and me until she lowers her hands.
“Leave my mother alone,” she hisses and takes a menacing step forward.
“Feisty little thing, isn’t she?” Brodie remarks. “Stupid, but feisty nonetheless.”
“Stupid would be you underestimating me, or me attacking you while risking my mother’s life.”
“Shut your cockhole,” I snap, earning me her fury and distaste.
There clearly is no fear in any cell of her body, such a stark contradiction to her outer appearance with the gown, discarded high heels, and her red hair pulled back into a tight bun. Her gaze slides to her mother and concern pushes everything out of her mind as she falls to her knees.
“Mom, mom.” Her fingers slide over the inside of her mother’s wrist.
Brodie steps away from them and comes to stand beside me.
The woman’s bright blue eyes hit mine. “She needs a hospital.”
I can’t help but snicker at her ignorance. “I don’t care if she lives or dies now, or tomorrow: the both of you won’t live to see next week.”
Again, she narrows her eyes and gives me fury instead of fear or shock. “Killing the both of us might give some sense of justified retaliation, it is however false in the foundation of your twisted truth.”
“We don’t care about your riddles,” Brodie sneers and stalks to the corner to grab some rope.
Her gaze slides to my leather cut. Taking in the patches, she grinds her teeth as Brodie stalks toward her. She’s on her feet, jumping over her mother’s body to get out of my VP’s way.
Holding her hands palms up she directs her attention to me. “I have a deal for you and in return I want to ensure my mother’s safety. You have to drop her off at the hospital.”
Brodie is already shaking his head and I am a little intrigued but the fact is, “You have nothing I want. And if you’re thinking of offering your cunt? Nothing special about it and if I wanted it, I’d have my cock splitting you in half already.”
She takes a menacing step toward me and the anger in her voice is vivid when she starts to throw out details this chick isn’t supposed to know. “Your father was Lynch McKean, and I’m very sorry for your loss. His old lady, your mother, Isla was killed in a drive by shooting right here in front of this clubhouse. Three bullets in the chest, one in the head. Everyone thought it was a rival MC, rumors you guys spread yourself because it was the Mexican cartel instead. Payback for interfering with a drug deal. A mistake because one of their own fucked up. And you spread the rumors of the rival MC so your charter along with others could wipe out the cartel yourselves without interruption. You’re Ramsey McKean, otherwise known as Ram to those who have been in the ring with you. A nickname you’ve earned because you like to ram everyone in the head, preferably by using your own. Or so I’ve been told. Thirty-one years old and now the president of the VII Knights MC, Wyoming charter. That’s where I am, right? Your clubhouse?”
“How did you know about the bullet count and that it happened here?” I snarl, not something many people know what happened to my mother.
A drive by shooting, yes. But the number of bullets, where the impact was, or where it happened? Not to mention the fucking Mexican cartel screwing up and dragging my mother into something we didn’t even have a part in? Fuck, no. Not to mention my nickname, age, and how I fight.
“What else do you know?” I question.
“Prez,” Brodie whisper hisses but I shoot him a glare to silence any further actions.
“Everything,” she simply says and points at her mother. “You don’t need my mother for payback. Look at her, you’ve already got what you wanted. She hit her head when you guys blasted the gate. Please. Get her help and I will tell you who was truly responsible for your father’s death.”
I tilt my head and take her in. The red hair, close to more of an orange glow, the dress, the temper, along with the fighting skills, nothing makes sense. And the things she just mentioned? It’s the complete package that puts me on edge.
“Nope, not interested. You know–” I rub my fingers along my jaw. “You almost had me intrigued with those details you mentioned. But the last part about my father’s death made your credibility take a nosedive. Besides, I’m in charge and won’t ever take orders, or deals for that matter, from a chick.” I swing my gaze to Brodie. “Let’s hang her from the ceiling and grab the blowtorch while you’re at it. I’m thinking we’ll start with putting a little heat under those tiny feet, how does that sound?”
“Music to my ears, Prez. I’m always up for a little barbeque. Nothing like the fresh scent of burned meat to get me through the day.” Brodie chuckles and steps toward the chick.
She moves so fucking fast, all I see is a blur moving forward and Brodie doubling over–hitting the concrete knees first the next instant–while he groans and falls to the side, cupping his balls.
“All yours, Prez,” he wheezes. “Gimme two minutes and I’ll back you up.”
My head falls back and laughter rips out. “Fuck, you got him good.” I give a shake and add in a serious tone, “You’re still gonna dangle from the ceiling, sugar.”
Her eyes are on me and she takes a menacing step forward. Brodie silently rolls to the side and I watch how he gets to his feet behind her while I mockingly beckon my fingers at her, inviting her to give me all she’s got.
At the same time Brodie lunges forward, that’s when she jumps in the air and kicks out with both feet, a fucking war cry filling the air along with it. Impressive but the little ninja shit earns herself a punch to the cunt before she’s able to land on her feet. Well, it’s more like a graze because it was a reflex while I fucking hesitated at the same damn time. And I never hesitate in a damn fight.