Pulling Her Trigger (Ghost Riders MC #1)(8)
“Don’t. We’re in a public place and she’s got a f*cking *. Not here,” his sidekick says to him.
“I’m more than happy to kick your ass right here,” I bait sweetly, letting my anger get the best of me. What these men don’t know is part of what they stole from me could actually get me sent back to Texas and a needle put in my arm.
“You stupid whore, you don’t know who you’re f*cking with. You’re probably just some loose * the club likes to have around. I bet you gave them a taste of your cunt so you could get into the club to begin with, didn’t you?” I have to control my eye roll at his words, it’s like men can’t come up with something better than my spreading my legs.
“I think your VP got a taste of me earlier today. Maybe you should have one too. Get a real good idea of how I got into my club.”
They both take a step towards me, but stop short. I was so focused in on the Five Aces that I completely forgot about Vincent. His arm wraps around my waist pulling my back flush to his front, holding me in a possessive grip. One that says we’re more intimate than we are. That I’m his or some shit. He completely dwarfs me with his size, and he’s still got at least three inches on Blondie and Sidekick. His timing is perfect. He might not want to take me home after he hears these two run their mouths, but I won’t be taking a punch to the face.
“There a problem?” Vincent growls from behind me. He locks his arm around me tighter, and I’m thankful he doesn’t pull me behind him. Neither of them say a word, just study him for a few beats, before fastening their gaze back on me.
“You’re f*cking a fed, Casper?”
I feel Vincent’s body go solid against me. It takes me a moment to get what Blondie said, but before I respond, Vincent beats me to it. “Get the f*ck out of here before I make your night hell.”
“Fuck it,” the blonde snarls. “Have fun with the bitch. Hope you don’t end up with a few bullet holes in you. That’s her MO, but you probably know that, don’t you?”
Vincent keeps his arm locked around me but doesn't respond.
“The Five Aces a bunch of tattletales now? And you give my club shit for having a * in it. Seems like you guys have a few of you own.”
“Fuck you,” he snaps back at me. “Let’s get the f*ck out of here.”
Both men head to the door, and I feel myself release a long breath.
“Let me go,” I mutter.
Vincent leans down, rubbing his lips against my neck.
“It’s not what you think,” he mumbles, placing a soft kiss behind my ear. He’s completely foreign from the brute he was earlier when he had my wrist bound with his belt.
“Let. Me. Go,” I say between gritted teeth. All the white-hot desire I felt for him washes away. Nothing better to kill a mood than thinking about spending the rest of your life in prison. And that’s exactly what Vincent could do to me.
I drop his hand from my waist and turn to look up at him.
My heart gives a traitorous jump at the defeated, miserable look on his face.
“I’m not here as a fed, I—”
I halt his words with a raised hand. How could a man I’ve known less than an hour rouse all these emotions in me? I want to scream and shout in his face. I feel like he’s just taken something that I want away from me. I never planned to try to keep him, but realizing that I can’t makes me want to punch someone again. With my luck it would only make him look more handsome.
“Name,” I say, wanting to confirm something I feared when the Five Aces called him a fed. Something that Pres told me days ago.
“Vincent Cassano”
I close my eyes in pain before opening them to glare at him. Vincent Cassano. The fed who has been sniffing around about the guns, the same one asking questions about me. The one Pres told me to keep an eye out for.
“You tried to f*cking play me?”
“No!” he barks, taking a step towards me that I only match in retreat.
“You want to question me, you call my lawyer. I said all I had to say about the guns and anything else…” I let the last part hang, wondering if this is indeed about Texas. I know I’m wanted for questioning but they can’t make me go back without an extradition process. Besides, they never sent anyone to question me. Just a few queries over the phone where I also let them know not to call me again, but call my lawyer.
“I swear this isn’t about that, I’d never do anything to hurt you.” He says it with such conviction that I want to believe him, but I can’t. I shouldn’t be mad at him, because I would do just about anything for my brothers, and maybe he’ll do anything for the feds. I can’t be mad at that kind of devotion. In fact, I should have some level of respect for it, but I can’t see past my anger.
“Stay the f*ck away from me. I don’t give two f*cks what you were up to,” I say, turning to leave the bar. I have one thought on my mind now. My brothers need to know what happened tonight, and they need to know now.
Peeling out of the parking lot, I make my way over to the bar most of the club members hang out at. It’s a mile down the road from the range and club, which sit on the outskirts of Kansas City, but it’s the closest place for the guys to get some easy ass. The bar has a few small stages in it, and the later the night gets, the greater the number of drunk girls taking off their clothes. Pres doesn’t allow sweet butts into the club, so this is where they all hang out. Shit went down when he took over, and a lot of trouble came from the random women around the club. He nipped that shit in the ass, so only old ladies are allowed in the club now. If you want a quick f*ck you have to go down the road, or hope one of the old ladies likes to be shared. It is like shooting fish in a barrel down there for them. Women know that’s where the Ghost Riders like to hang, and they flock there. As much as I love my brothers, I’d rather not see them f*cking. And no way could I ever f*ck any of them.