Page 33 of Where We Promise

It had taken me years to master being around the members of the club without wanting to tune them out with my headphones or digging into a book. Prospects were watching me, seeing as most of them were my age or older. Luke scrutinized me like a hawk, just like his old man, Tuck. The fucker was cruel and not happy about the fact that my dad had recently announced that I would be taking over the club, not his vice president. Tuck wasn’t close with my dad; he was just loyal and reliable. He made a good VP, much like I knew Luke would, but he was petty as hell.

So I kept my attention on the scene in front of me, as a few members jumped into an arm-wrestling match, drunk off their asses and laughing like crazy. I smirked, watching as the men fell over, but were too far gone to care. They’d feel it tomorrow though, especially after Dosser fell on his arm at the wrong angle.

The kitchen doors swung open, and I expected Gene to walk in and yell at us about dinner being ready. But it was Wanda who walked into the room…with Penelope.

My stomach dropped out as I watched her midnight hair bounce against her back. She wore a leather cut too big for her frame and it barely concealed all the skin she was showing with her small tank top and leather pants.

She held a serving tray with beer on it and started smiling at the fuckers in the club.

As if she hadn’t spent the last four years hating this place, and these men. Her mother did the same, and the two of them worked the room, going from group to group.

I narrowed my focus on the piece of leather on Penelope’s back, my anger surging so painfully high that I started to see spots.

Why the fuck was she doing this?

She would not become a Sweetbutt, a bunk bunny, or any other fucking thing in this club.

Not her.

Hicks grabbed Pen’s ass, letting out a whistle, and I jolted off the stool. I had to remember Pen wasn’t mine, no she was dating Ryker, one of the newest prospects. No, she’d opted to date the fucker, and was very much not mine, but it didn’t stop me from walking over and kicking Hicks in the back, so he stumbled out of his chair.

“Keep your fucking hands to yourself.”

Pen paused, gaping as she watched Hicks splayed out on the floor. The other men were laughing while more were still watching the women work the room.

Phillips and Diggs had hands roaming, mouths already lowering to Wanda’s neck and a quick peck on Penelope’s lips. Pen looked shocked; her blue eyes were wide—her steps faltered back a step.

“Get the fuck off of them. Now.” I stepped through, grabbing both Wanda and Pen’s wrists and pulling them free. I tugged them behind me until we were in the kitchen.

“What the fuck are you two doing?”

Wanda let out a heavy sigh as she pushed her fingers into the corners of her eyes, likely to hold off tears. She wore an outfit similar to her daughter’s, only with a lower heeled boot, but more cleavage showing, and her property patch, showing she belonged to Miles was missing. She’d dyed her black hair blonde, which made her look younger, but it also made her look less like herself. Like she was hiding within her own skin.

Penelope was crying, with fat tears rolling down her flushed face. Gene wasn’t in the kitchen at the moment, so the overhead lights were only half lit, over the pantry and fridge, making the room feel smaller, more intimate.

“I was told to do this, and to teach her how to serve the men,” Wanda finally explained through a shuddered breath.

Panic swelled to unmanageable heights.

“Who told you to do this?” I searched the space between the mother and daughter, catching the nervous glance Penelope gave her mother.

Wanda was staring at the ground until she finally heaved another sigh and glared.

“Tuck Holloway.”

As in my father’s vice president…the second highest ranking member in the club. The man who would not be inheriting the title of president, thanks to me.

“He told you to train Penelope to serve the men?”

Wanda glanced at Pen again, but her daughter’s head was hanging down.

She surprised me by speaking up instead of her mom. “Luke tried to fight him on it…he argued with him, which is why I’m wearing Ryker’s cut. Luke thought it might protect me. But Tuck said I wasn’t going to get a free pass without learning the meaning of serving the club first. He wants me to learn it before Ryker patches me.”

I let her words hit me and then slide off just like they always did. I schooled my expression so she’d never know that hearing she was going to be patched to Ryker didn’t hurt. I couldn’t afford to care that she was choosing him. It was an inconvenient reality.

“Wanda, why didn’t you tell Miles? Surely, he isn’t okay with members groping you.”

I watched as her over-styled hair was flipped to the side, her red lips wobbled as she focused on the floor.

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