Page 217 of Corrupted Kingdom

That word. Brother. It sparked something in Dornan’s eyes. Something wounded. He stared down at the stripper on his cock and then pushed her away with force. She landed on her ass, hard, but she was too high to be offended. ‘Go,’ Dornan barked, zipping his jeans as he turned his full attention to John.

‘I figured you’d be celebrating with Mariana,’ John said, and didn’t the shit hit the fucking fan right then.

‘Did you have anything to do with the shit she pulled this morning?’ Dornan asked.

Get straight to the point, why don’t you?

John clenched his teeth, suddenly itching for a cigarette. ‘No.’

Dornan held his eyes for a few moments before he seemed satisfied.

‘What the fuck is going on, Dee? Kids? A baby?’

Dornan took a swig of whiskey and slammed the glass down on a table beside him. ‘It wasn’t fucking me, okay? You think I’d do something like that?’

John apparently took too long to answer, because Dornan’s entire demeanour changed. ‘Fuck,’ Dornan muttered, looking to the ceiling. He was like a tightly wound coil, about to snap. About to explode.

‘You need to do something about your father,’ John said in a measured, controlled voice that belied his utter rage. ‘Now.’

Dornan gave John a withering stare. ‘You might be the prez, big boy, but don’t ever think you get to tell me what to do.’

‘I’m not telling you as the prez, you fuck, I’m telling you as your friend. Your father murdered a KID.’

Dornan pounded the table with his fist. ‘Don’t you ever fucking say that. Not here, not anywhere. You hear me? Don’t talk about my family.’

‘For fuck’s sake, how many of these things does Mariana have to deal with before you do something about him?’

Dornan went very still, his eyes far away for a brief second. And for a moment, the aura of anger that surrounded him was gone, replaced by an unsteady silence. ‘I’m going to make things right with Ana,’ he murmured, spinning his empty glass with two fingers. ‘We’ll have another baby. I’ll marry her. Things will be made right again.’

John felt like he’d been punched in the fucking heart. He would kill Dornan before that happened. Even if it meant he died with him. If anyone was marrying Mariana, it was John.

You have a daughter, John. Calm your shit. Get it together.

It wasn’t easy to be calm around a storm like Dornan Ross. He made you see the worst in yourself, like a mirror, held up to expose your dirtiest truths. He was like poison.

‘You really think that’s gonna fix what’s done? You think that’ll make up for the shit you’ve done to her? You think she’ll ever forget that the only reason she isn’t fat and pregnant right now is because you beat that baby out of her?’

John couldn’t take any more. The club suddenly felt too small, like the walls were closing in, squeezing the air out of him. He stood, and that would have been fine, except that Dornan stood too, his face in John’s.

‘This conversation isn’t fucking finished,’ Dornan seethed. ‘Sit your ass down.’

John held his ground. He even laughed, because it was really this absurd right now. ‘You know who you’re acting like right now, don’t you? I mean, I don’t even need to say it.’

They were starting to attract attention from other Gypsy Brothers. Viper, sitting a few feet away with a topless brunette, watched the scene unfold as he pushed the woman away. There was a thick tension in the air.

John didn’t need a sixth sense to tell him that something bad was about to happen.

‘You should say it,’ Dornan said, throwing his empty tumbler at the floor so that it exploded in a mess of glass shards.

‘You’re acting like your father, Dee. You’re acting like you’ve lost your fucking mind.’

John had been anticipating the swing, yet it still came as a surprise. In twenty-odd years they’d never come to blows. Not once. But as Dornan’s fist came at him, John knew with a certainty that lived in his bones that one day very soon, one of them was going to kill the other. It was the only way.

John jerked his head back in time to lessen the blow, but not avoid it completely. Dornan’s fist connected with his jaw, and he felt his teeth move in his mouth. It was like poking a sleeping snake. John attacked, a hand on each of Dornan’s shoulders as he smashed the hard part of his forehead into his nose. It hurt, but it’d hurt Dornan more. Sure enough, Dee stepped back, blood exploding from his nose as he held a hand to his broken face.

And then Dornan pulled a fucking gun on him.

‘Put that away, shithead,’ John said, suddenly aware that Dornan was unhinged enough to actually shoot him right now. Goddamn it, why’d he have to open his mouth?

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