Page 63 of Kneeling to Candy

Figures I’d be the one to bring out his rabid side.

Butch grips the armrests of my chair, caging me in my seat. He glares at me, making the gold flakes in his eyes sparkle. He’d be beautiful if it weren’t for the fact that he’s angry with me.

“You’re not volunteering for this mission,” he spits venomously.

“Butch—” I try to reason with him, but he cuts me off.

“Don’t ‘Butch’ me with your honey-laced voice and pouty lips. You’re not putting yourself anywhere near that sick fuck. Do you hear me?”

His anger is understandable. He’s concerned for my well-being. Though, his aggression and defiance are over the top. It pisses me off, catapulting me right into instant bitch mode.

“There’s no way I can ignore you when you’re spitting in my face like an incompetent dick with no control.”

Pissy and disgusted, I wipe his spittle from my face with the sleeve of my shirt, demonstrating exactly how much like a dick he is. “You need to get a grip. The team needs an inside source to work the case. Guess who has firsthand knowledge? Me.”

“No. Retract your offer,” Butch demands.

Annoyed, I cross my arms under my chest and hold my head high. “I will not.”

His nostrils flare, emphasizing his wild bear demeanor. “You will, too.”

“Will not!”

“Will, too!”

“WILL NOT!”

“HEY!” Gauge shouts over us. “Fighting isn’t helping anything.”

I push Butch out of my bubble, allowing me to get out of my chair and be more on the same eye level as him. I refuse to have him scare me into compliance like he’s some bully on the playground.

“Piero and Tank may be mafia, but I’m the only goddamn person in this club who’s been to one of these auctions and understands how this operation works. I’m a fucking brilliant actress, and I can flirt my tail off. Reality check—I need to be on this team.”

Butch’s hands fist at his sides. “No.”

“It’s not up to you,” I chide, lifting my chin at Atlas. “It’s up to Prez.”

“Dammit, Candy,” Atlas groans, running his hands down his face.

“You need me, Atlas,” I remind him.

“No, we don’t,” Butch hisses, his voice sounding strained from yelling. He rubs at his throat unconsciously, probably trying to relax his sore muscles. “We have others on the team who are pros at going undercover: Stage, Triple, Punk, etc.”

Arguing with Butch is bringing out my irrational side. It takes everything in me not to stomp my foot like a toddler. “But I’m the one who’s been at one of these auctions.”

“I’m with Candy,” Piero says, unbothered by our altercation. “We need someone who has experience with this industry.”

“I liked you better five minutes ago, when you were on my side,” Butch admits to Piero through gritted teeth. “Not anymore.”

The don sighs, putting away his cell. “I’m not picking sides. I’m picking the best members for the operation.”

“Candy can’t join the team,” Butch argues, turning to Atlas and Gauge. “She’s too close to this.”

Gauge frowns, eyeing Atlas. “I agree. It’s too risky having her close to a man who has a history of harming her.”

Butch bobs his head. “Yes. It could cause her to have a panic attack like Jo or put her body into a fight-or-flight response, like Opal when faced with her abuser.”

My head snaps back like I’ve been slapped. Saying I’d respond negatively when under pressure because other women in the club did is a massive stretch. Not to mention insulting.

---