Page 28 of Sparrow

“I want to claim my woman. Make it official,” he announced.

That could explain the knee-jerking. The man was nervous his club wouldn’t support his claim on his woman. Romeo was twenty-four years old and born into Odin’s Fury. He had never heard of a man staking his claim on his woman, and his brothers not supporting it, but he supposed it could happen. He didn’t know how things had worked with the Roughneck Riders before. Maybe they routinely shot down their brothers’ claims. Seemed stupid to him, but what did he know of Ohio.

“All those in favor of Sparrow becoming property of Pipes, say aye.” Bowie’s words were a punch to Romeo’s gut, and he placed a hand on the chair in front of him to keep from falling over. Ayes rang out, and Romeo looked to Dash and Tex while his knuckles turned white with his grip on the chair.

“Fuck no,” Dash interjected into the chorus of agreement, and Pipes stared at him in abject horror.

“Nay,” Tex joined in.

A moment of confusion crossed Teller’s face before he echoed his brother’s response. “Nay.”

“Nay.” Romeo joined in and glared at the man attempting to claim Sparrow.

“The fuck?” Pipes balled his fists. “You aren’t even brothers.”

But they were. Every man in that room was Pipes’ new brother, and because they were present in that room, they had a vote in his claim on Sparrow. If he had waited for everyone to leave town, things might have gone a lot differently. Thank fuck he didn’t.

Slamming the gavel down, Bowie stood. “The claim doesn’t stand.”

“Prez.” Pipes turned his focus to Bowie.

“Sparrow will remain property of the club, daughter of Odin’s Fury. She will have the same respect an Ol’ Lady receives but remains the property of no single man,” Bowie decreed.

“This is fucked!” Pipes blurted and then cut his glare to Dash. “You’re the bloody fucker that had her last night.”

All eyes turned to Dash.

“You’re the one that fucked her up,” Pipes accused.

Fucked her up? What the hell was he talking about?

“Bring Sparrow in here,” Bowie shouted after slamming his gavel down.

“She’s not fucking here,” Pipes said, as he started doing a boxer’s dance, rolling his shoulders, eying Dash with a murderous glare.

“Get her here,” Bowie growled. “You said she’s fucked up, and you claim a brother did it. She’s a daughter to the club and I won’t have any of my men laying unwanted hands on our property.”

Chapter 18

Sparrow

If Sparrow had just gotten off that floor sooner, she wouldn’t be scrambling to fit that last suitcase in the car before the sound of a Harley grew louder behind her. It was the last thing, the last fucking thing, and if it would just fit in her car, she could get gone.

The bike roared behind her. Fuck it. She didn’t need that stuff anyway. She’d just order a new birth certificate. Dropping the bag, she turned in time to see Pipes jump off his bike and charge toward her.

Shaking, she dropped her car keys. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she chanted as she crouched to reach them with one hand on the open door to her Civic.

Too late.

The weight of his body crashed against hers and she fell forward. Her face smashed against her car seat, as her knees scraped along the asphalt of the parking lot. Pain tore through her legs and her lip.

Yanking her to her feet, he squeezed her biceps. Narrowing his bloodshot eyes, he glared at her. “Where are you going?” he growled.

“To get the fuck away from you!” she spat, and with her freshly cut lip, the ball of spit that landed on the bridge of his nose was striped with her blood.

Letting one of her arms go, he whipped his right hand back before cracking her across the face with the back of his palm. Knocked off balance, she would have fallen to the ground if he hadn’t held her up.

Her ears rang and pain ricocheted through her face. This had to end. This was the last time.

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