Page 35 of Their Princess

I snorted, done with his fishing. “I’m going to talk to Sas.”

Graff called out, “Because that’s a good idea?”

“No,” I said without looking back.

At the door, I took another swig of beer and then jogged down the steps.

The growls of men increased until I thought my ears would bleed. I had only heard this kind of gruffness when I’d been in the Marines—in basic training or in the bunks with only canvas separating us from the scorching desert sun.

They sounded like corralled bulls, beating their feet against the floor and groaning to be free. The same sound wouldn’t ever happen in la Familgia. The family meetings were much too controlled and political for that.

The whole basement smelled dank, filled with body odor. Another reminder.

I prowled down the last few steps and around the corner to stand beside Sas. He didn’t look at me, but he stiffened. Anger rolled off him in waves, but I should’ve known he would be pissed after tangoing with the cartel.

His dance hadn’t been graceful, though, or well thought out, just a stoic stall.

I leaned toward him and whispered, “We need to talk about?—”

“We don’t need to talk about shit.” Sas jerked his head back and squared off with me. “You don’t get a say here.”

My spine tensed, and I drew myself up taller. He might be nearly a head taller than me, but I probably had twenty pounds of muscle on him. I was a patched member. An officer even. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. I do.”

And I especially had things to say where Adelina was concerned.

He barked a laugh, but unlike Graff upstairs, it wasn’t natural. The sound ripped from his throat like a wolf growling.

“Your big brother handed you the position on a platter, part of a deal,” spat Sas. “You’re not one of us.”

He tried to walk away, but I grabbed his leather jacket without moving more than my arm.

Sas turned around and glared down at my hand and then into my eyes. “Maybe this isn’t how things are done in la fucking Famiglia, but around here, laying hands on a brother will get your ass beat.”

Everyone had already been stopping their workouts to stare at us, several of the club prospects murmuring amongst themselves like gossiping teenagers. Now they stared at me with death in their eyes. Iwasn’tone of them, even if my cut and patch said otherwise. I hadn’t been a prospect or come up through the ranks.

In that regard, Sas was right. They viewed me as an outsider, a transplant in an MC that’d had a lot of change recently. They didn’t just not trustme; they didn’t trust each other yet either.

I could see it in their stance and worried glances around the room. This sit’ was just like every time I’d been assigned a new platoon full of fresh-out-of-basic lackeys. To top it off, I wasn’t certain they trusted Sas as their local leader. If they didn’t shape the fuck up, that dissent was how the Mafia would destroy them. Or how the cartel would rip them to shreds.

Massimo had always been the one to showboat. He liked eyes on him and the power in his back pocket. But, over the years, I had learned a few things at his side.

Projecting my voice, I said, “You think I’m trying to make you Mafia?” I let out a laugh like it was the most ridiculous thing I could ever say. “Never. Not you. Absolutely not. But I am one of you.” I tapped the patch on my cut. “By technicality or otherwise, we’re on the same side. So is Adelina upstairs.”

Sas rolled his eyes. “Why you bringin’ a bitch into this?”

“Thatbitchwill be your wife someday.” Sadly.

He scoffed. “The only thing the princess and I have in common is how fucking much neither of us wants to be married!” burst Sas.

The men hollered, like they could smell blood in the water.

“I don’t belong to a bitch. Or to an ol’ lady,” he added. “The only thing that has my loyalty is The Ridge Motorcycle Club!”

The men jeered.

“I answer to the Prez,” continued Sas, and the guys clapped, cheering again. “And only him! The only bitch I’m riding on the regular is my bike.”

The men went wild. They hollered until they were red in the face, pumping their fists and stomping like fucking gorillas. Sas stood in the center as their ringmaster, a big smile on his face and hands spread out to the sides. He was taking it all in, reminding me too much of Massimo. More crass than my brother, but every bit the one to rile up his men.

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