Page 47 of Daddy Issues

One sat in a booth with a woman on his lap. And the other— My chest clenched tight, jealousy rocketing out from that point to my extremities. Kenna stood on the small round table in those black, fuck me boots that ran all the way to her thighs and a tiny black dress. The guy leaned forward, trying to get a good look up it. She leaned forward, pressing the hem of her skirt against her thighs; her smile flirty.

Fake as all fuck but still flirting.

I knew, because I’d been on the receiving end of the real one and it turned me inside out every time. Glancing past her to the woman on the other guy’s lap, I cursed under my breath. I didn’t have a sister—but Eli’s aunt was close enough. Fucking Whitney. Of course they’d be friends.

Double trouble.

“What’s up, guys?” Cam slapped one on the shoulder, hard, squeezing the leather. Dude spun to him, arm out like he might swing, and dropped it when he saw me round Cam’s other side.

Dude with him, the one who’d tried to look up Kenna’s skirt, whipped out his phone. But Jester was there, smacking it outof his hand to where it slid and bounced across the floor. Then wagged a finger in the guy’s face, chiding him like a child.

Kenna paid them no attention. She was staring straight at me, lip twisted up in a bratty little smile. Made me want to toss her over my knee and spank her ass until she begged me to stop. But she wouldn’t, which would make it that much more fun.

I held my hand out to her, and when she didn’t take it, I snatched hers. The flirty smile she aimed at me was real, and she stepped down onto the chair across from the two assholes. She teetered a little, draped her arms over my shoulders, and leaned in. When she did, I gripped the back of her neck and jerked her face down to mine. The rest of them be damned.

When I kissed her, it was with fierce, possessive intent. This woman was mine. Whatever he thought he could see up her skirt—he’d never touch. The voice in my head was a strangled growl.Mine.

Kenna tasted of excitement and sweet liquor. My dick was half hard by the time she pulled away, breathless, and I stepped back, letting her slide all the way down my chest to the ground.

“I told you to stay out of it.”

“You should realize by now, I know what the fuck I’m doing.” Her grin was a little crooked, her eyes big and half drunk.

Fuck.

“Mmhmm.”

“You told me to stay hidden the other day too, but I was nosy, so I followed you and then called Cam.”

Of course she did.

She glanced over her shoulder, where the one guy was glaring at her angrily. “I forgot to listen this time, too.” Then back to me, challenge lighting up her eyes. “Oops.”

I smacked her on the ass as she and Whitney sauntered back to the bar, where the little bartender called out to Merc. “Don’t fuck up my bar.”

He turned to her, took a stack of bills from the inside of his cut and put them in her hand. “If it costs more than that, hit me up.”

By then, the tension had grown so angry and thick that everyone in the place was watching us. The roar of Harleys pulling into the parking lot cut through the rock music blaring from the speakers. Our backup had arrived, not that we needed it.

“They say that imitation is the best form of flattery. That what you’re doing there, bub, flattering me?” Cam plucked at the patch on the front of the stolen cut.

“They don’t even look like they could play the part.” Jester leaned down, grinning, and squeezed the skinnier guy’s bicep. When the guy jerked his arm away, Jester turned back to me as if to ask if I wanted first swing.

The asshole pervert had been looking up my girl’s skirt.Mine. Fuck yes, I did. I open-hand slapped him like the bitch he was and before he could stand, jerked him up by the shoulders of the stolen cut and slammed him into the table. Same move I’d done when I played hockey, jerking a guy out of his jersey and tossing him to the ice.

Only here, the table broke and crashed as I ripped the cut off and kicked the dude in the side. A set of Chevy keys fell out onto the floor. Jester grabbed them and tossed them to Cam, who caught them and elbowed the other dude in the face.

After that, it was an all-out brawl. Construction workers jumping in. I threw more punches than I had in a long time, exhilaration soaring through me. I didn’t professionally fight like Jester did, because I liked the violence too much. It wasn’t that I couldn’t control it, it was that I didn’t want to.

Which is why they’d kicked me out of the beer leagues before my career ever got off the ground. Disfiguring a guy for life is a quick way to piss off league officials.

In only a few minutes, we were tossing the two guys out of the club and into the parking lot. Jester had both cuts in one hand, tossed over his shoulder like a businessman modeling a suit jacket.

I helped Merc and Dekes wrangle the Yamaha into the back of the truck. Cam pulled on a pair of black gloves and blew his hair out of his face as he opened the truck, jerked it into neutral, and let it roll backward across the parking lot. He and Merc pushed it across the road and into a vacant desert lot.

I shoved the guy on the ground with my foot. “Get up, asshole.”

He rolled to his hands and knees, spitting blood on the cracked pavement. “Fuck you.”

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