Page 30 of Sparrow

Turning his head, but not his body, Romeo met the man’s eyes. “She’snot, and I didn’t even know she was seeing anyone. She never mentioned it.”

“Can’t imagine you two did a lot of talking,” Tex added.

Romeo faced his father. “No. Not really.”

With a wheezy sigh, Monty rubbed his face. “You’re fucking up a man’s claim on some pussy to protect a brother, or to protecther?”

Romeo clenched his fists when Monty put Sparrow in the same category as a club whore. His jaw tightened and he did his best not to let his fist fly at his president.

“Sparrow’s a club daughter,” Teller added to the conversation. “Ain’t just a piece a’ ass.”

“For the sake of this conversation,pussyis pussy,” Monty decreed. “You trying to protect a brother from claiming a bitch who ain’t gonna honor him?” Monty suggested.

Standing before his club brothers, his father, his uncle, and even Dash, defending himself about Sparrow did nothing to quell the rage coursing through him. It fueled it, and it took every ounce of strength and will power he had to keep it restrained. These men were supposed to have his back. This was how he earned it, being honest with them, showing them he was worthy of their loyalty.

“No,” Romeo admitted. He didn’t know Pipes from any other tweaker on the street, and that was what he was, a goddamn tweaker. “I’m protecting her from being claimed by a piece of shit who can’t keep his nose out of product he’s supposed to be moving.”

Monty grunted, starting to pace around the fire barrel while stroking his beard.

“You see him. Sweating, bloodshot eyes, an attitude. The guy is into the shit, and she’s a club daughter. The club owes it to Ducky to protect her,” Romeo argued.

He didn’t have words to tell them about all of it. He couldn’t explain to them how different she was from any other woman he’d ever met. He couldn’t say that she didn’t want anything from the club, she just wanted to be useful to it. He couldn’t say that she was loyal to a fault. He couldn’t tell them about the lollipops or the songs or how the moon shone on her freckles. How he loved her freckles.

He couldn’t explain why Pipes didn’t deserve Sparrow or why Sparrow deserved someone better than him. He didn’t know if they could possibly understand. Hell, only two of them had Ol’ Ladies, could the rest even grasp the concept of what having a woman for more than a few nights was really like?

He wanted that with Sparrow.

“So this is all selfless then?” Tex asked, not sounding convinced at all. “Nothing to do with lollipops, letters, and getting your dick wet?”

Romeo couldn’t answer that. He opened his mouth to try to but he didn’t have it. So, instead of catching flies, he closed it. “Goddamnit!” he growled, and when his fist flew, the wall to the clubhouse stood strong, leaving his knuckles bloody. “She deserves better than a fucking tweaker.”

“Like you?” Clark asked the question that was heavy in the air, and undoubtedly on all their minds. “You gonna stake your claim on this girl?”

Letting loose a one-two punch combo, Romeo attacked the wall again. He didn’t have the answer to that. The fact that it was asked of him was unfair. If it came down to someone having to claim Sparrow, would he? He wouldn’t do it without asking her first.

The sound of the approaching bike had Romeo’s head popping up and the conversation coming to a close.

“Guess we’re gonna find out now, aren’t we?” Tex said, far too amused with the situation.

“Clark,” Bowie called from the open door, “my office,” he said before turning back and disappearing inside.

Chapter 19

Sparrow

Keeping her head down, Sparrow used the length of her brown curls and waves to curtain her swollen face from view. More men were hanging around the clubhouse than she’d ever seen before. Their bottom rockers read different states, and she realized the men had hung around after the patch over. Was Jacob still here?

With his hand on the small of her back, Pipes guided her through the clubhouse toward Bowie’s office. To anyone else, he’d look the part of a doting boyfriend. She’d been in it a time or two since her father died, so she knew the way. She didn’t look up from her veil of hair when inside, but she could feel the eyes on her.

“Out,” Bowie growled.

“Prez—” Pipes protested.

“Get the fuck out,” another man reiterated Bowie’s original order, interrupting Pipes.

Sparrow cringed when his hand slid across her shoulder, and his mouth came to her ear. “You’re property. My fucking property,” he whispered before pressing a kiss to her temple and leaving the room. The threat coated her skin, making her feel slimy.

As she understood the roles of women in the club, she was property. Even club whores were property. MCs loved hierarchies. Ol’ Ladies were the highest-ranked for women, but even then property. Their Ol’ Man’s say was law when it came to the club.

---