Page 23 of Striker's Yield

“Let’s just say she threw a pillow at me when I told her she was coming to the clubhouse with me,” I tell them, and Brass bursts out laughing.

“‘Least it was a pillow and not a lamp,” he says once he stops laughing.

“Yeah, well, she added a few choice words in the mix. Told me I could stop telling her what she was going to do. Said I needed to learn that she wasn’t going to let me walk all over her.” Now, all three men start chuckling, and it should piss me off, but it doesn’t.

When it comes to Autumn and that damn if that backbone of hers doesn’t make me hard. I had to force myself not to throw her to the bed and tear her clothes off.

“Do we have any other news?” I ask, changing the subject.

“Yeah,” Red answers. “One of the reasons I came over here. Twister’s callin’ church tomorrow at noon.”

“Great,” I mutter, thinking of what I need to get done tomorrow at Devil’s Nirvana.

Brass and I had decided in the week it took me to get my shit sorted to start making my play for Autumn that we needed a manager. The club was doing well, better than either of us expected. Most likely because we’ve got some damn good talent and don’t skimp on the security. We haven’t been open long, but we’re completely in the black and nowhere near seeing red. This was the reason I’d been able to take the last few nights away from work except for when Brass had gone in to handle things when I needed him too.

Still, I need to go in and handle things as well. I can’t put shit off on Brass or the new manager. Brass has the shit he does, and we might share some things, but that doesn’t mean there are not things that are his alone, and I have mine that I do myself. I’ll have to find time tomorrow to go in and see to it. Even if it means going in after Autumn gets off and I take her with me. She won’t like it, but I’m not letting her have the chance to go to that apartment of hers and me not being with her.

Getting up off the table, I toss the empty beer bottle in the nearest trash bin and plan to get another one, but I catch movement out of the corner of my eye.

“Hey, Striker,” Neely purrs, wrapping an arm around my waist and pressing herself into my side. “I haven’t seen you lately.”

“Been busy,” I grunt and peel her away from me. “What are you doing out here? You know the rules, it’s family time.”

“I know, but I just wanted to catch you. Maybe we can go to your room and have a private party,” she suggests, getting back in my space.

“Not gonna happen,” I tell her and turn to leave, but Neely, being Neely, doesn’t take the hint.

“Come on, Striker, it’s been weeks since I’ve had your big cock inside me.” She pouts, plastering herself to my side and reaching up to brush her lips against my neck ‘cause she can’t reach any higher. “I know you haven’t been with any of the girls either, and you don’t fuck the strippers, so . . .”

“Who I fuck ain’t your business, Neely,” I snap, shoving her away. “Now, get the fuck away from me before you piss me off more than you’re working your way to doing now.”

Neely goes to say something else, but I ignore her with the intention of going to my woman and seeing if she needs anything. However, when I look at where I’d last seen her, she’s gone. The ol’ ladies are still standing there, though each of them have different varieties of pissed-off expressions in place.

Great.

Just what I need, a bunch of pissed-off women. All because of one clubwhore who decided to make an appearance when she knew the fucking rules.

Crossing the span between them and me, I stop only when I’ve joined them. “Where’d Autumn go?”

“Why should we tell you?” Emerson demands, planting her hands on either side of her hips.

“Because she’s not with you guys, and I want to clear whatever you all think you just witnessed ‘cause it sure as shit wasn’t anything,” I tell them, hating that I’m even explaining to them when I shouldn’t have to. These women know me. They know I’m not a fuckwad to do something shady and dirty to a woman like Autumn.

“She didn’t want to listen when we told her to wait,” Izzy mutters. “We know those skanky bitches have no problem trying things and testing their place.”

“Where’d she go?” I bite out.

“Lila was running to the store to pick something up for me,” Kenny says. “Autumn caught a ride with her.”

Great.

Pulling my phone out, I don’t bother saying another word to anyone, and I find my sister’s number while making my way toward my bike. They aren’t that far ahead of me. At most a minute, two tops.

“Yes,” Lila answers, sounding slightly peeved.

“Where you headin’?” I demand.

“I’m going to Food Lion, then taking Autumn home.” There’s no missing the snarky attitude.

---