Page 30 of Her Possessive Bikers

"Not fucking happening Indy." I push her toward Jacoby. "No lip, now go."

More shots ring out, shattering the front windows. Glass tinkles across the floor like deadly rain.

"Move! Now!" I order as Jacoby grabs her arm. The look she gives me before they disappear down the hall makes my chest tight. But there's no time for that now. I draw my gun and signal to the prospects taking cover behind the bar.

"Everyone armed?" I call out, getting scattered affirmatives. The shooting stops, leaving an eerie silence.

"Come out and play, Tres!" A voice like nails on a chalkboard bellows from outside. It's fucking Lupe. The Prez of Dos Banditos. "Let's talk business, eh?"

Lupe is a piece of work who's been pushing boundaries since Brick passed. Thinking he has the upper hand now because he has seniority under his belt.

"Cover the rear," I order two prospects before moving toward the shot-up entrance. "Kyler, you good?"

"I got your six," he grunts, positioning himself despite his injuries.

The sun's blinding as I step onto the porch, gun ready but pointed down. Lupe stands in our lot, flanked by six of his guys. All armed, all itching for blood.

"Quite the welcome wagon," I drawl. "Usually folks just send a fruit basket."

"Cut the shit." Lupe spits on the ground. "Your boys roughed up my men last night."

"And Emerald nearly killed one of mine. So I don't want to hear a goddamn word from you." I adjust my collar, it suddenly feeling tight. "Your men were dealing in our territory, and not respecting our women. We had a chat about manners."

"Well, here's another chat." His grin turns ugly. "Keep your nose where it belongs, away from my men, or O'Brien's pretty little girl might find herself in trouble. Be a shame if something happened to her."

The rage that floods my system is white-hot. My trigger finger twitches, but I keep my voice steady. "You threatening a dead man's daughter, Lupe? That's low, even for you."

"Just friendly advice between presidents." He backs toward his bike. "Think it over. Next time we won't miss."

My blood runs cold as Lupe's bikes roar away. The threat hangs in the air like gunsmoke. I holster my piece, but my hands are shaking with barely contained rage.

"Everyone inside. Now." My voice comes out gravelly, strained.

The memory of a conversation with Brick hits me like a physical blow. Three years ago, sharing whiskey in this very clubhouse. His eyes serious as he made me promise to keep Indyout of club business if anything happened to him. Now here we are, and I've failed him in less than 2 weeks.

"Jacoby!" I bark, turning to find him already moving toward me. "Get Indy from the safe room. Meeting in five."

He nods, reading the tension in my shoulders. "On it, boss."

"And Jacoby?" I catch his arm. "Don't tell her what Lupe said. Not yet."

"Copy that." He disappears down the hall.

I survey the damage - broken glass, splintered wood, bullet holes decorating our walls like abstract art. But all I can see is Indy's face, those eyes so much like her father's, trusting me to keep her safe. And now she's got a target on her back because of who her father was. Because of who we are.

"Kyler, get the prospects cleaning this mess up," I order, heading for the meeting room. "Then join us inside. We need to figure out how to handle this shit storm."

The weight of leadership sits heavy on my shoulders as I push through the double doors. Brick would've known exactly what to do. But Brick's gone, and his daughter's safety is in my hands now. I won't let him down again.

18

JACOBY

Ipush through the hallway toward our safe room, my boots echoing against the wooden floors. The familiar smell of perfume and cigarettes hits me as I open the door. Inside, five of our usual hangers-on crowd around Indy, who stands tall despite their circling.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" A bottle blonde in too-tight faux leather sneers. "Waltzing in here like you own the damn place, like you're better than us."

"I don't think anything," Indy says, crossing her arms. "I know exactly who I am. And I don't owe you whore's a goddamn thing."

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