Page 32 of Jacob

“That’s the thing. I don’t think the answerisno.”

“How you figure?”

“She didn’t say she didn’twantit. She said shecan’taccept it.”

“So, we’re playing semantics?”

Jacob scrubbed his hands over his face. “I just know she wants it.” He’d seen it in the way she touched it, the way she looked at it. He couldn’t say that to Dash, though.

His club brother snorted. “You know she’s dating a prospect, right?”

Dropping his hands, Jacob’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah,” he sighed.

“Seems your gift got a bunch of Ol’ Ladies bitchin’ at their men. How they don’t do nothing nice for them anymore.” His sponsor chuckled. “They were talking about giving the prospect hell.” He shook his head. “Seems they think it came from him.”

“Don’t matter what they think.” The younger biker balked, sitting up straighter. “Sparrow knows who sent it.”

Dash nodded, pulling the stick from his mouth and examining the shrinking ball of sugar he’d been sucking on. “You knew she had a man and you sent it anyway.”

“He’s a prospect.”

An arched brow met him. “He’sher man.” The lollipop went back in his mouth.

Pushing off the bed, Jacob glared at his patch brother as he jumped to his feet. Grinding his teeth, tightening his hands into fists, the urge to knock the candy from his arrogant mouth had his hands tingling.

As the anger and confusion over how to handle this situation with Sparrow raged within him, Jacob couldn’t help but pace the small space between the door and the back wall near Dash. If he wasn’t careful, he’d let it loose in the wrong direction. To prevent himself from popping his sponsor, he cracked his knuckles. Why did he have to say it like that? The guy was afucking prospect. Since when did Dash give a shit about prospects?

“You got something you wanna say?”

“I’m trying not to clock you right now.”

At his full height, Dash didn’t clear six foot, which meant Jacob had him on height and reach. However, the stocky son-of-a-bitch had at least twenty pounds of solid muscle on him. So, when he sprang to his feet, glaring at him with his fists up, the younger biker realized he may not have said the right thing.

“I’ll let you have the first shot.” His sponsor lowered his hands slightly. “But know—if we’re dancing, it’s a full-on cha-cha. Now, I know you’re all pissy ’cause Lollipop Girl ain’t been sitting in a tower pining for you, but shit, man. Quit acting like a bitch and pouting. Get it the fuck together.”

Unfurling his fingers, he couldn’t ease the tension anywhere else in his body. He’d known this was an option. He’d known Sparrow was too good a woman to just be single. Running his fingers over the stubble of the shaved sides of his head, up into the length of the thick brown of his hair, he let out a frustrated growl. What the fuck was he supposed to do?

“It’s just pussy, man. You can’t let it get to you like that.”

His vision tinged red and his body heated. Everything slowed down yet, somehow, Dash didn’t see it coming. Or seemed not to.

The strands of the older biker’s beard were softer than he’d expected them to be. They brushed his knuckles when his fist pushed through the soft flesh connecting with the hard bone beneath. His club brother’s wide-eyed expression, the way he fell off balance, and the fact that he didn’t bring his hands up in time to block when Jacob’s fist sailed toward his face all meant he’d caught him by surprise.

It felt like he watched a movie when his sponsor fell back into the dresser, stumbling over the chair, and crumpled to the floor, holding his jaw. He hadn’t heard a crack. Pain pulsed through his hand, radiating up into his wrist and forearm. Gritting his teeth through it, Jacob held his index finger out to his brother.

The glimpse of himself in the mirror over the dresser was of a stereotypical, crazed, wild-eyed, one-percent, outlaw biker. He loomed over Dash, his lips curled into a snarl, his eyes narrowed into slits. The adrenaline coursed through him and nothing but threats ran through his mind.

He couldn’t put a voice to them. He wouldn’t further sully their friendship, their brotherhood. He’d said all he needed to with his fists—Sparrow wasn’t just fucking pussy. However, he needed to do something.

His gaze found the bouquet of candy. Snatching it off the dresser, he turned just as his sponsor lifted himself from the floor, checking his bleeding, already swelling lip. Without a word, Jacob left the motel room. As best he could, he stuffed the arrangement into his saddlebag, the helmet went on his head, and started his bike.

The rumble of the engine immediately eased some of the tension in his muscles. Twisting the throttle brought a calm to his soul. Eating some pavement would bring him down. Right now, he was far too amped up. Kicking the stand, the bike shot forward and he headed out onto the freeway and opened up the engine—letting the sound drown out all of his thoughts.

Chapter 18

Sparrow

With her knee bobbing up and down, Sparrow swore it kept pace with the imaginary analog clock ticking away. Yet again, she tore her focus away from the practice test to check the time on her phone. Twenty minutes. Thirty questions. She had less than a minute per question left.

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