Page 77 of Tusk's Fury

“Just a display of force, so my Eve can feel safe.”

He walks to the far back wall, roughly shoves the blind aside, and gestures for me to step forward with one hand. I force myself to put one foot in front of the other until I get to the window. What I see outside sickens me. There are dozens of bikers patrolling the area.

The man holding back the blind tells me proudly, “You’re deep in Sons of Rage territory. We’re a hundred strong on any given day. Trust me when I say no one can get to you. You can rest your head easily, ma’am. We’re protecting every inch of this building.” Then he winks at me, like we are best friends. It is surreal.

“Thank you,” I stammer.

Harper says crisply, “That will be all, Jasper.”

Jasper replies, “Yes, sir,” and they all file back out of the room.

I turn to Harper and say, “My answer is still no.”

He walks up to me. When he gazes down at me, I feel the battle of wills going on between us. “You don’t want to see what’s next in my repertoire to convince you to do the right thing.”

“I know you can lock me up in the basement and starve me, torture me, or do any number of horrible things to me. The fact is, I don’t care.”

When he doesn’t immediately come back at me with more bullshit, it occurs to me to ask something. “Why me? Out of all the women who are true believers, why would you want a heretic like me as your wife?”

He reaches out and touches me for the first time. “It has to be you. No one else. Just you. Only you have what I need.”

“You’re the king of weird and cryptic responses. You know that, right?”

“Go rest. Once you have your daughter in hand, I suspect you will become quite malleable.”

The words slip out before I can censor myself. “I think I might actually hate you, Silas. Remember that when you’re trying to force me to marry you.”

I give him my back, leaving him staring at me and both my parents furious with me. I need to find a way out of this little chamber of nightmares that Silas has created for himself.

Chapter 27

Tusk

Well, if we thought we were going to have to hunt down the Sons of Rage, we would have been very much mistaken. They came rolling into Las Salinas and drove right down to circle around our clubhouse. They looked to be about forty strong and were riding an assortment of mostly Harleys. Some of them were expensive vintage bikes, and others looked like they might be works in progress, and there were a few new, tricked-out choppers. Leading the pack was a nice vintage bike with an older woman on the back.

I wouldn’t say Siege was panicking, but he was deeply concerned. “I’m gonna see if we can raise extra men from rival clubs.”

Rigs tells Evan, “Gather up the women and put them in the basement, it’s the safest place. Have the prospects watch over them like mother hens.”

Evan asks, “You want us locked and loaded, right?”

Rigs glances at his adopted son and nods. “Yeah, but no matter how bad it gets, don’t give Levi a weapon.”

“On it.” I watch Evan dart away to do his duty as a prospect.

When the vintage hog pulls up in front of the clubhouse, the older woman jumps off the back. She pulls off her helmet, and I swear to God, she looks like a much older version of Brittany. I find myself walking towards her without willing my feet to do so. Siege tries to pull me back, but I break free and keep walking.

When I get close, I realize the brother on the bike is their club president. He jerks his chin at me, like he knows me. He doesn’t even get pissy when I look his old lady up and down. She’s in really good shape, wearing black leather pants and a black biker shirt. Her helmet has the words ‘Queen Victoria’ scrolled across it in neat lettering.

That’s when it hits me like a bolt of lightning to my brain. I reach out and pull her into a gigantic hug. “Fucking hell, you’re my old lady’s grandmother.”

She just laughs when I pull back. “How did you guess?”

“She told me all about how you were her inspiration to run. She named our daughter after you. She’s the spit of you, and no offense ma’am, but if my Britt looks like you in twenty or thirty years’ time, I’m gonna be one lucky SOB,”

She laughs again at that and turns around and slaps the president on the shoulder. “Did you hear that, Rock? We’ve got a granddaughter, and she’s named after me.”

He snorts a laugh before getting off his bike. “Bet her nickname isn’t Queenie.”

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