Page 41 of Wild Side
“Says who?” my dad asks.
I can’t even imagine the expression Goose must be wearing on his face right now, but the way my dad’s chin is jutted outward as he looks his nose down at him, I can only assume he is not backing down. And while that’s whatever, what I don’t want to be is in the middle of it.
“Me. Now you’re in my house. Respect that and back the fuck up.”
Part of me wants to thank Goose for stepping in. However, I know he is only doing it to assert his dominance in his territory. This is indeed the beginning of the dick measuring contest. I just didn’t realize it would include Goose, who doesn’t even like me, but this is indeed a principality thing.
My father’s hand falls from my throat, although I have a feeling it is with great reluctance. I don’t move except for myeyes. I shift them to meet Sable’s. She’s staring at me with her lips parted. Her eyes are wide, and I can tell she’s shocked at the man standing in front of her, and that man isn’t Goose. It’s my father.
I’m not sure the wordbetrayalfits this situation. However, it’s how I feel. It’s not just that I’m grossed out, because truly, that is part of it. Sable is my friend, and my father is my father.
But it’s not just that.
It’s the fact that she told him where I was without hesitation. She told him in an effort to make herself look better for him. Not because she was protecting me, her supposed best friend.
Her actions cut deeply, and they make me want to cry. In all the years I’ve known her, which is to say the twenty-one years of my life, I’m not sure if she’s ever hurt me like this before. But maybe she has, and I just didn’t know about it.
“Your house?” my dad growls. “I’m a fucking president,” he snaps.
Goose makes a noise in the back of his throat, then snorts, but before he can say anything in response, the door to the bar opens, the light spilling into the room, and I gasp at the sight of Maverick standing there. Not because I don’t want him to be here, but because I’m afraid of what’s about to happen now that he is.
MAVERICK
The sight in front of me is not the one I thought would be greeting me when I walked into the clubhouse. I thought I would have a few more hours at least before I would have to deal with this shit.
I open my mouth to ask what the fuck is going on when I hear Bullet’s voice roar from behind me. I don’t know what the fuck is going on. He marches past me, almost knocking me on my ass because I don’t expect it, and makes a beeline for Halo, Goose, Zadie’s friend, and a very shaken Zadie.
I don’t even know how to navigate the expression on my woman’s face, but what I do know is that I do not like it. Not one single bit. I may not know her that well, but I know enough to realize that she is indeed not happy right now. I would say that she’s borderline scared.
Before I can say a word, Bullet is there, in Halo’s face, too close for me to hear what’s happening. By the time I approach, Bullet is walking away, and Halo is behind him. Shifting my attention to Goose, I jerk my chin.
He closes the distance between us, walking past Zadie to do it. Zadie, who has stayed otherwise silent since I walked in. Dipping his chin slightly, he looks down at me, his gaze finding mine.
“He came in here talking some shit and put his hands on her. I almost put him down.”
My spine straightens. “Hands?” I ask on a hiss.
“Hands.”
My brother’s confirmation is all I need. My body is buzzing. It’s fucking vibrating at the concept of that man walking in here and putting his hands on my woman. On my pregnant woman.
Mine.
Instead of busting through Bullet’s door and filling Halo full of bullets, I shift my attention to Zadie, who, instead of looking scared, now appears to be panicked. I’m sure she thinks I’m going to gut her father, and honest to fuck, that’s exactly what I want to do right now, and I might still in the future.
He’s definitely not safe from me.
Not that he was before he showed up here.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
She swallows hard, and that’s when my gaze flicks down to her neck, and I see some redness there. Chills break out over my skin. Tilting my head to the side, I flick my eyes up to meet hers.
“Did he put his hands on your throat?” I ask through gritted teeth.
I watch—my body being filled with what I can only describe as anxious energy. It feels like sparks might actually fly through my fingertips. I am completely juiced up instantly. My vision blurs before I completely black out.
My body moves without me realizing what’s even happening. When I come to, my hand is wrapped around the knob of Bullet’s office. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m trying to save myself from making some kind of colossal mistake, but it doesn’t matter because I burst through anyway.
