Unattainable (Undeniable, #3)(63)

“Prez?”

“Dumbass is shitfaced,” Deuce said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder in Cage’s direction.

Well…duh. Cage hadn’t stopped drinking since yesterday morning.

“Need you to sit ’im, bitch, and take his ass home.”

Dirty’s brow hit his hairline. “Now?

“Yeah, f*ckin’ now. You think I need him actin’ like this once Mooresville and his boys show up? Or how about for the f*ckin’ drop-off. Tension’s gonna be high, everybody’s already expectin’ a fight. I don’t need my f*ckin’ kid actin’ crazy ’cause he lost his brand new *.”

“I can f*ckin’ hear you,” Cage slurred. “And I ain’t ridin’ bitch no-f*ckin’-where.”

They both ignored him.

“Find someone else,” Dirty said. No way was he leaving, not before he saw the chief.

“No,” Deuce said. “I’m givin’ you an order, Dirty. Which means you f*ckin’ do it.”

“Don’t do this, Prez,” Dirty said quickly as he jumped off his bike and got to his feet. “I need to be here. I need to make sure—”

Deuce grabbed his jacket collar and yanked him over his bike, then with a hard shove sent him stumbling backward.

“You think I don’t know what you f*ckin’ need?” he yelled, advancing on him. “I been takin’ care of everything you needed since you were just a damn kid! Didn’t matter what or who you f*ckin’ needed, I’ve always taken care of it, yeah?”

Dirty’s hands fisted at his sides. “You don’t f*ckin’ get it, this isn’t—”

“I DON’T FUCKIN’ GET IT?”

Deuce’s thick arm shot out and his hand wrapped around Dirty’s throat. “I get it, Dirty,” Deuce growled low, bringing them face-to-face. “I f*ckin’ get it. It’s you who ain’t gettin’ it. We got a lot of bank rollin’ our way tonight and if this shit gets screwed up ’cause you’re feelin’ a woman for the first time in your life, I will put your sick and twisted ass into the ground.”

Dirty’s adrenaline skyrocketed, causing his blood to race through his veins, his heart to pound harder, and his hands to shake. Deuce had never talked to him like this. Never.

“I’ve been lettin’ you run wild since I brought you here, doin’ whatever the f*ck you felt like doin’, but it ain’t f*ckin’ happenin’ tonight, not with the motherf*ckin’ Russians. We need this shit to go down, the club needs this, and the f*ckin’ Demons need this to go down without any bullshit. I get you’re givin’ a f*ck about Ellie, I give a f*ck too, but I give way more f*cks about my boys and my family than I do some bitch that nearly got her ass killed ’cause she got drunk with the wrong f*ckin’ man.”

“Prez,” he rasped, struggling to get a good breath. “He’s gotta go to ground.”

Deuce’s grip on his neck tightened. “Why?” he demanded. “’Cause he f*cked with some bitch you’re feelin’? How many bitches you f*cked with, Dirty? You need to go to ground too?”

Dirty stared into the eyes of the lone person who’d ever shown him any sort of kindness, who’d given him a family, friends, and a life, a man he respected and loved. A man he’d gladly die for. A man who, if he killed him, Dirty would consider it an honor to die at his hands.

“Yes,” he choked out. “I do.”

Deuce’s nostrils flared and his grip on Dirty’s throat fell away. Dirty immediately backed away, grabbing his neck and coughing. But before he could regain his bearings, Deuce’s fist cracked into the side of his face and right before he dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes, Dirty could swear he felt his brain hit the top of his skull before settling back in its place.

“That’s once,” Deuce spat out, standing over him. “You say it again and I’ll break both your f*ckin’ legs. Now, get your sorry ass up and get Cage the f*ck outta here.”

Deuce reached down and offered him an arm. Dirty grasped forearms with the man and allowed himself to be helped up. Once on his feet, Deuce shoved him in the direction of his bike where Cox, Cage, Tap, and Mick were all staring at them.

“Stop standin’ around like a bunch of *s,” Deuce growled. “Dirty, get my drunk f*ck of a kid home and Cox, get your f*ckin’ ass into sniper position.”

Dirty looked to Mick, who gave him a hard look that said to Dirty, “If you don’t get your ass into gear, I will beat you the f*ck into the ground and then piss on your grave.”

“Let’s go,” he said, shoving Cage toward his bike. “But you f*ckin’ touch me, *, and I will boot you off the back and run you the f*ck over.”

“Who the f*ck would wanna touch you?” Cage muttered drunkenly. “You think a shower and shave makes a f*ckin’ difference?” Cage burst out laughing. “Bitches don’t give a f*ck about any of that shit…and they’re all bitches. Fuckin’ whores, actually. Don’t give a f*ck ’bout anybody but themselves. And you ain’t gonna know it ’til it’s too f*ckin’ late, ’til you’re tellin’ ’em stupid shit and thinkin’ it’s the same for them but it ain’t and then they’re gone and then—”