Undeniable (Undeniable, #1)(30)

Preacher’s dark eyes narrowed and cut to his right where Dog, One-Eyed Joe, and Tiny sat. Next to Joe were his boys: Mick, Cox, and Jase. He was seated at the end of the table directly across from Preacher. Next to him, on the other side of the table were Kickass Charlie, president of the Notorious MC, and two of his boys. Shit was tense. Not one brother in this room wanted to be here—he and Preacher for their own personal reasons involving sixteen-year-old Eva and a gun, and Charlie because Frankie had buried his old man a few years back. It was one of the crazy f*ck’s few caps that had been on the grid. Charlie’s old man had been a tried-and-true dirty bastard.

Yeah, shit was real tense—even without Frankie in attendance.

The meeting room door burst open with a loud bang. Startled, several brothers shot out of their chairs, pulling their pieces.

Frankie sauntered in, grinning. He was zipping up his jeans, buckling his belt, and completely oblivious to the firearms pointed at his head.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said to no one in particular and slid into his chair at Preacher’s left.

Preacher glared at him. “Where the f*ck you been?”

Frankie started to open his mouth when an empty coffee cup sailed across the table, hitting him in the chest.

One-Eyed Joe scowled at Preacher. “He’s walkin’ in here grinnin’ like a dirty dog, zippin’ up his pants, and you’re askin’ him where he was! You know where he was, you f*ckin’ idiot, and you know what he was doin’ and who he was doin’ it with ’cause that’s all the two of them ever do! Spankin’ each other day and night, not carin’ that we all gotta hear it! And you’re gonna ask him stupid questions ’bout where he’s been, knowin’ he’s gonna start talkin’ ’bout f*ckin’ my niece! I just can’t f*ckin’ stomach that shit. He says one more word about hot * or titty-f*ckin’ in relation to my girl, I’m puttin’ him back in the hospital!”

Frankie grinned.

His stomach dropped.

Preacher sighed. “You tryin’ to say I should keep my own baby from the club? Not sure I could handle not seein’ her all the time.”

Dog gasped. An honest-to-God gasp. Like a little f*cking girl. “Nobody’s keepin’ Eva from the club!”

“No f*ckin’ way!” Tiny bellowed. “She keeps my old lady off my back and does my laundry!”

“Damn straight!” Joe’s fist came down on the table. “That’s our girl! We didn’t have Eva here, who would keep the books straight? Who would cook us f*ckin’ breakfast? If anyone’s gonna go, it’s gonna be Frankie!”

Frankie was still grinning. “Can’t kick me out. Your baby girl loves me. Case you haven’t noticed, that’s her room I’m sleepin’ in upstairs.”

Deuce blew out a breath. He hadn’t wanted to come to New York, he really hadn’t wanted to meet with Preacher or Charlie, he especially hadn’t wanted to meet them at the Demons MC, and he fervently hadn’t wanted to lay eyes on Frankie.

And now that he knew Eva was giving it up to him…he wanted to blow holes into the skull of every * in the room.

That wasn’t even the worst of it. These men—her father, her uncles, even three-hundred-pound, sweat-drenched Tiny—all of them looked horrified at the thought of Eva being kept out of the club like their old ladies were. Not caring that she was well aware of the debauchery that went on, probably having seen most of it, helped hide it, and cleaned up after it.

She even had her own room. Her own room. At a f*cking MC. What. The. Fuck.

His mistake slammed into him like a f*cking freight train. He had thought she was being bratty and obstinate when she’d only been reacting to him wanting to push her away from what she’d always known. She hadn’t been running from him; she’d been running from the cage he’d wanted to lock her in.

“Ya think you can save the f*ckin’ drama for later?” Charlie asked. “Maybe we can get back to f*ckin’ business?”

Frankie turned his head and gave Charlie a crazy-eyed, vicious smile. “Sure thing, Chuck,” he said pleasantly. “I f*ckin’ loved doin’ business with your old man, gonna love doin’ it with you, too.”

Charlie’s nostrils flared, but he wisely kept his mouth shut. The whole circuit knew Frankie was bad news, trigger-happy, and more than willing to throw down at the drop of a hat.

“All right,” Preacher growled. “If we’re not playin’ each other, then it’s the f*ckin’ Buonarroti family that’s playin’ us. Someone needs to pay Sal a visit, ask him if he knows what his f*ckin’ kid is up to. You get the sense that he does—”

The door burst open, and again guns were drawn as Eva tore through the room. Frankie slid down his chair and disappeared under the table.

“I see you!” she screamed. “Get out from under there and give me my purse and my Chucks! I was supposed to meet Kami a half an hour ago!”

Cox sat up straight in his chair. “Kami? Where’s Kami?”

“Don’t know what you’re talkin’ ’bout, babe,” came the muffled, laughing reply from under the table.

“Oh, Christ,” Preacher muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“DADDY!”