Page 5 of Kissin Irish by Morgan
Ugh, how I needed a cigarette. I didn’t smoke anymore.
“You want a drag,” Villain asked as if he read my mind. He placed the butt to my lips knowing the answer.
I took a quick puff, inhaling the nicotine and blowing out smoke.
Villain was anything but a loyal soldier. He probably had some beef with Irish and wanted to cause trouble. “Them are the rules. I don’t make them. I just enforce them.”
Feeling his breath on me, I longed to take a step back. But since he dragged me out into the middle of the clearing between the arena and the clubhouse, I stood still. The last thing I wanted to do was trip.
“Pussy.”
“Watch it.”
“What are you going to do to me? Tell my brother, pussy?”
His tone heavy with anger, he asked, “You ready?”
“Are you ready?” I repeated his question and stuck out my elbow. He knew full well how I preferred to be led anywhere.
Villain took the back of my elbow and steered me toward the clubhouse. When we stepped in, I was glad he had a hold of me. The building busted its seams with people, with noise. With the commotion, I’d never successfully find my way through.
We found my brother. I could tell as his baritone voice became louder and louder until he greeted us. “And that’s when, I took out my dick and pissed on his precious Harley.”
God, I’d heard this story a thousand times. He’s lucky Kingpin didn’t kill him for that. Instead, he made my brother Vice President, saying he needed a man who would stand up to him when he’d gone too far. Our President was a reasonable man most of the time until he wasn’t. Then, boy he wasn’t.
“What’s going on, sis?” As bad as Pagan could be, at least he asked me instead of Villain.
While I tried to explain, I sensed the men move. My brother literally growled. Fuck. Apparently, Villain went behind my back and whispered into his ear while I was talking. My brother freaking wasted no time dragging me through the bar. At least it was away from the noise to the famed Throne Room with its soundproof walls. He let go of me, and I almost fell over.
Not knowing where I was in the room, I complained, “Pagan, I’ve told you I don’t like to be displaced.”
“What the fuck happened? Where’s your cane?”
It was still in the locker room. “Shithead Villain didn’t let me grab it.”
“Well, Where’s Waldo? Where’s Jassica? And where’s that motherfucker, Irish? Villain, bring that prick to me. Sis, you okay? I’ll kill him right here tonight.” My brother’s voice boomed.
I covered my ears. My guide dog, Waldo, slept back at the apartment with my nurse Jassica.
“It was a mistake.”
“Mistake? Villain said he saw you… naked. That that prick had you naked against the wall ready to rape you.”
“Pagan, it wasn’t like that, I swear.”
“Then how was it?”
The noise from the party, an Irish jig playing, rushed in as the door opened behind us. When it shut, Kingpin’s voice flowed through the room. “Pagan, what’s going on here? I hear you’re threatening to kill our cash cow. Can’t you wait a couple weeks?”
“Pres. he tried to rape my sister.”
Silence fell, and I could feel the tension.
I cut through it, holding up my hands. “Irish didn’t try to rape me. It’s all a misunderstanding.”
“See. The girl’s okay.” Kingpin sounded relieved and serene. His hand touched my lower arm gently, but just to acknowledge me. I appreciated the gesture. Apparently, Kingpin was being reasonable tonight. “Cece, tell us what happened?”
“I’d rather not say.” I couldn’t admit anything to Pagan or Irish really would be dead by his hand. He’d dared any of his brothers to mess with me when I came to Royal Road. Not without his permission. Kingpin decreed it law. At the time, I’d appreciated it, but for the last few years, the men here avoided me like the plague.
