Page 29 of The Heir

“Get the fuck outta here for a while, you.” Easy looked directly at me. “May will help you find something to do. Me and Mak need to have a chat, and I think Trista wants March.”

I gave a short, but knowing nod. He was asking for a truce of some sort. I wasn’t sure how far I was willing to give it, after that episode, but I wasn’t going to argue about it until I had her past them.

“I don’t trust her with him,” I told Easy, plainly once we were safely in the kitchen.

“That right?” Easy asked, not moving his gun, or loosening his grip on Mak’s neck. “You marrying her in the morning? I miss my fuckin’ invitation?”

Mak’s lips flubbed, spittle dripping. An odd, broken nasally sound came from Trista as she watched it all unfold. All I could do was blink.

Was he serious?

“That some kind of biker shit?” I blurted out.

Easy snorted. “No. That was me telling you that unless your financing, fucking, and claiming her as your property, the girl is not your business. What you need to do is find yourself some business, nephew. Mak and I have our own that will take a few minutes to handle. You recall?”

I squinted at Easy, unsure if he was trying to provoke me or not. “My property?”

“He means either claim her as your ol’ lady or shut the fuck up and find some business, man.” May backhanded my upper arm.

It was sharp, and my mood was already short. I wasn’t expecting it, so when that little snap of pain came, I shoved at him, letting go of Marchella and turning in confrontation.

He barked with laughter, throwing both hands up, his palms facing me in surrender.

“Hey! Hey, cuz! I’m just fuckin’ with you. But seriously… that’s all he means. He ain’t talkin’ bad about her.”

Makaveli had given up struggling, his nostrils were flaring with each breath he claimed, and his eyes were murderous. His pupils were so blown the bastard almost looked demonic.

“She is my ol’ lady,” I informed them.

“Mother—” Mak got out, before Easy clipped his airway off and roughly adjusted his hold, hefting Mak up the front of his chest an inch or so. He made choking sounds, and his feet shuffled allthe more frantically in the air over the floor, but Easy didn’t let his soles whisper against the hardwood floor again for several long moments.

I should have left it alone, but after witnessing the episode in the hallway, and the way Marchella had cowered from her brother– How could I?

I was already asking myself how many times she’d stared into those rage-filled, black eyes and answered to his temper.

“It’s true. You can let him go,” I told Easy, raising my shoulder in a mild shrug. “He can have the mother of all temper tantrums if it makes him feel better to perform for the ladies, but when he’s exhausted himself and the lights go out–”

I shut up long enough to pointedly shove a finger at his daughter, “–that’ll still be mine.”

Trista sucked in a breath and shot out of her chair, slapping May on the arm as she moved to the front door and ripped it open. Everything happened so quickly that all the sounds combined.

Her frantic movement, and that wild, swishing noise that broke out when Mak started throwing elbows and squirming like a rabid squirrel in my uncle’s arms. He was strangling himself worse with his efforts.

“Go!” Easy roared over the sound of May’s sudden laughter.

When I glanced back, that pistol of Mak’s was leveled at me.

A loud click made me flinch. It took a moment for my brain to realize Easy had pistol whipped him. I watched Mak crumple before me. Easy didn’t break his fall, either. His arm hung limp while he stared down at his brother-in-law with a disgusted scowl. After a moment, he cleared his throat, grabbed Mak’s pistol, and shoved it into May’s hands. He didn’t say a word, hejust fisted my shirt, hauling me toward him so that we collided brutally. I was shocked by how much power he had in that arm after half strangling his own vice president for the past ten minutes.

“Easy, please.” Marchella shot out of her chair.

“Don’t you ever do that shit again, do you hear me? Don’t you put me in a position where I have to choose between blood family and patch family. It isn’t fair, because you know goddamn good and well you’re all I have left of my brother. I will kill for you, Blaze Anthony.”

He didn’t give me time to respond, the fucker just got louder, “Of my family– My birth family….”

He thumped his chest with the pistol, causing me to draw in a hard breath.

“Easy,” I blurted out in a panic, my voice not more than a whisper. I wasn’t sure if the fuckin’ safety was on or not, and it made my vocals fail.

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