Page 2 of Playing for Keeps

“I’m sorry I wasn’t a son. I’d be an excellent president.”

Duke’s silence proved he was desperate. Would he actually consider training me to take his place?

“I don’t want to be in charge of your stupid club with your stupid men,” I said before he got too deep into that insane idea. “They’re all so stupid.”

Duke finally cracked a grin. “There are too many fatherless men around these parts looking for someone smarter to give them direction.”

“And none of them can be your heir?”

Duke’s smile faded. “I’ve tried several guys. But they can’t boss around the other meatheads in a real way. A weak man will destroy the club from within and leave this territory open for anyone to roll in and claim.”

“What about the Rawkfist club? Will they make an alliance with you?”

“That’s only a short-term fix.”

My father’s morose expression made me uneasy. He had always been the rock of the family. My mom is a ditz. Grandma is overly dramatic. Clover is a weirdo. I’m the loudmouth. The club is filled with meatheads. Amidst so many train wrecks, Duke always stood strong and kept his head on straight.

That day, though, Duke felt beaten down. I hated seeing my powerful father brought to his knees by his own fears.

“After your health scare, you should think positive,” I suggested as I followed him to the family room overlooking a wide cedar deck.

“I’ve worked my entire adult life to build this club,” Duke muttered, staring out at the wooded backyard. “But it’s built on sand, just ready to fall apart.”

“No, you just need to find someone to take over when you’re ready to retire and grow fat.”

“I don’t have a VP for a reason. None of these guys panned out. There’s no doubt they can throw down. But what good is all that brawn and no brain?”

I loved how my father trusted me enough to confide his fears. My mom was never someone who cared about the big picture. Though Kerrie isn’t flat-out dumb, no one will ever confuse her for being smart.

I prided myself in being more sensible despite my occasionally wild persona.

“Rawkfist has young guys. You should make an alliance with them. Say you want one of their guys to be your VP. They’re probably worried about Charleston, too. Why not use their situation to help our situation?”

“I don’t know if I trust anyone knowing our business.”

“I’ll marry whoever they pick to become your VP,” I said, just like I had practiced in my head. “That way, he’ll be family like you were for Grandpa. Plus, I can keep an eye on him.”

Duke frowned at me in his overly protective way. “Do you really want to take a stranger to bed?”

“You did.”

Duke flinched before offering a little smile. “Your mom was hot. As for the marriage part, we usually stayed out of each other’s way. What if this guy is nasty?”

“I’ll close my eyes and pretend he’s someone else while we pork.”

While my dad scowled at the porking visual, I considered the man I’d be fantasizing about while a nasty loser huffed and puffed over me.

Val Mercer.

We met two months ago at a bar in Rockwell, a town located between our two territories. Val’s father is a top guy in the Rawkfist Motorcycle Club. For years, I’d heard stories about Val and his older brother, West. Their little sister Tuesday and I have shared many run-ins. Val’s been circling my orbit for my entire twenty-three years on earth, but we’d never met until that night at Pebbles Drunk Tank.

Holy, moly, I couldn’t believe the stud was real as he strutted into the place. Val looked like a model for one of those outdoor athletic clothing lines. He wore a wife-beater top, blue jeans, and scuffed-up boots. My vagina instantly began panting. His muscled body was a work of art, but his face made my heart hurt.How could any man be so beautiful?

Val walked up to me, offered a breathtaking smile, and said, “We’re both hot. Let’s do this thing.”

Even starstruck, I refused to bow to a man’s ego and snarled, “I’m not a thirsty slut.”

Cocking a luscious eyebrow over his baby blues, he asked, “What kind of slut are you, then?”

---