Undeniable (Undeniable, #1)(35)

Deuce nodded to Cox. “You and me are goin’ in. Tag and ZZ take back. Mick and Jase take front, and Ripper…you just f*ckin’ wait. I’ll bring the f*cker right to you, and you can gut him like the f*ckin’ pig he is.”

Ripper grinned his deformed half grin. “You sure do know how to turn a guy on, Prez.”

He shoved an extra clip in the back of his leathers. “I try,” he said dryly.

He grabbed Cox’s arm before they entered. “Remember, we need to be cool. Frankie knows we got a beef. Look like you’re here to party. Start drinking, just don’t get shitfaced or grab some *, but keep your eye on your phone.”

“You got it.”

It wasn’t hard to grab * at an MC party; it was usually a free-for-all. But Cox being Cox—shaved head, pierced every-f*cking-where, and covered from neck to ankle in tats—the women f*cking flocked. Boy didn’t even have to crook his finger. They just magically appeared on their knees in front of him.

They walked in and split up. The place was packed solid with Demons. He saw a few Red Devil cuts wandering around and a healthy mix of nomads, but f*ck, there was a crapload of Demons. He went straight to the kitchen, nabbed a blue, pushed off a crack whore who’d grabbed at him, and started walking around, getting the lay of the place.

“Horseman!” a familiar voice shouted. A meaty hand hit his shoulder.

He turned around and faced the three-hundred-pound, sweat-covered *.

“Tiny,” he said evenly.

“Whatcha doin’ in Virginia?”

“Passin’ through.”

“Lucked out, brother. Mad f*ckin’ * here. Got sugar, too.”

Fucking morons. Snorting what they’re supposed to be selling. Fucking mor-ons.

“Gonna get some * first. Been on the road for weeks. You gonna be around?”

Tiny slapped his bicep. “Blow your load and come find me. Got some side business goin’ on that you might be interested in.”

Rolling his eyes, he resumed walking, stepping over drunk f*cks and drunks f*cking. When he reached the back, a closed-in porch that ran the length of the house, he stopped walking and started staring.

Leaning casually against the wall, smack dab in the middle of a long line of Demons, was motherf*cking Frankie. And no, his eyes hadn’t gotten any less crazy. But he had gotten a f*ck of a lot bigger.

His long brown hair was pulled back in a man bun, displaying his spiderweb neck tattoos interspersed with extensive, thick scars. His beard was long and ratty, and the brother’s muscles were bulging out of the skintight Van Halen tee he had on.

He might have half an inch on Frankie, but bodily, they were evenly matched. And with the * being as crazy as he was, Deuce wasn’t too sure he’d come out on top.

Frankie and his crazy eyes were fixated on something across the room. He followed his line of sight.

Fuck.

Black Harley tee with the collar cut off, causing it to fall off her shoulder, exposing a new tat of a colorful collage of flowers. Her tight pants were leather, and on her feet, sparkly silver Chucks. Her dark, wavy hair had grown even longer, nearly reaching her ass. She’d gained a little weight, none of it bad. How long had it been since he’d seen her last and acted like a f*cking *? Four years? Five? She had to be around thirty now. She didn’t look it. If he didn’t know her, he’d think she was in her early twenties.

He wanted her still. Fucking. Bad.

He looked back at Frankie whose gaze hadn’t moved, whose body hadn’t moved. Every inch of him was solidly trained on Eva.

Crazy. Fucking scary crazy.

Eva looked up from her conversation with another woman—older, battered-looking, wearing stripper heels, definitely an MC whore—and her gaze caught Frankie’s. Frankie’s eyes f*cking blazed with possession and…insanity.

Eva handed her beer to the woman next to her and started for Frankie. Crazy f*ck never took his eyes off her, watched her like a vulture does when it’s waiting for something to die.

When she reached him, his arm wrapped around her wrist, and he pulled her up against him. His head lowered, his mouth covered hers, and he just f*cking ate at her. Eva’s arms went up around his neck; she pressed her body into his and kissed him back just as hard.

He stared at them, his fists clenched and his chest aching something fierce.

Frankie pushed Eva off him. “Got business, babe,” he yelled over the music. “Stay right f*ckin’ here until I get back, or you’re gonna catch a lot of f*ckin’ shit from me that you know you don’t f*ckin’ want. And I don’t wanna give it to you, but I f*ckin’ will if you don’t f*ckin’ listen.”

She nodded. She just f*cking nodded. Frankie walked off and disappeared out the back door.

Turning around, he dug his phone out of his pocket and dialed Cox. Brother answered on the first ring, breathing hard. The sound of skin slapping against skin came through the phone loud and clear.

“Yeah?”

“Got a problem.”

“Fuck. What is it?”

“Eva.”

“She here?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

“Is Kami here?”

Deuce closed his eyes. What. The. Fuck.

“No, *. Kami is not here.”