Tirone (The Night Skulls MC #2)(15)

“What do you think she’s gonna say?”





CHAPTER 9


Jo



“Absolutely fucking not.” I leaned my hip against the kitchen counter, folding my arms across my chest, my eyes wide at Laius. He was irritably calm, smirking at me behind the smoke of his coffee. How could he be okay with this? Could he not see that was Tirone’s plan all along? To get me and him in forced proximity away from Laius so he could reclaim me? Of course, he couldn’t. He didn’t know anything, and it was all my fault.

“You’re being unreasonable, Miss Meneceo,” Tirone said in warning. He was resting his elbows on the other side of the counter, his intent—dark as always—stare digging a hole into me, eliciting his threats in their own way. Of course, this was his idea to get me to be alone with him. Of course, he had to lie through his teeth, feeding Laius whatever story to convince him to accept his genius solution to the problem.

“I’m not being unreasonable. I’m being violated.”

“Violated? What do you mean violated, Jo? Who the fuck violated you, my old lady, in my own place?” Laius asked, his temper evident in his voice.

“You exposed very private details of my life, my secrets, my traumas to all of your friends, whom I don’t even know yet, by the way, and to a former student of mine, whom overnight I’d learned he was my boyfriend’s son, with no consideration whatsoever to boundaries or consent.” I was sincerely upset about the first part. The Tirone’s part was an embellishment for emphasis. Or a cry for help. I wanted to tell Laius everything. I just didn’t know how.

“I don’t need consent to protect you, baby, and I don’t give a fuck about boundaries when it comes to your safety. You know I’d do anything in the world without limits to keep you safe, like kill anyone that threatens you in any way, not just tell my brothers how to work with me on that,” Laius said.

“Should you not have, at least, asked me if I was ready for this overshare yet? We talked about this. Not only did you decide the timing for me, but also you decided the course of my life here without even discussing it with me.”

“I am discussing it with you.”

“After you had this whole conversation with people that, regardless of whom they are to you, are practically strangers to me, while I was sleeping off the drugs you made them use to kidnap me.”

Doc—who was, other than Fort, the only member of the Night Skulls I’d officially met—had explained the dizziness, dry mouth, fatigue and the urge to sleep were all side effects from the drugs Hook and Texas used to bring me here.

He’d made a prospect—not a sweetbutt because he didn’t know where I stood with them after my incident at Rosewood, which was another thing everybody here knew about me when I knew nothing about them—bring me some food and water, waited with me until I scoffed them down and gave me some meds that would help me sleep the side effects off, and so I did all day yesterday.

“You shot me in the guts,” a man, who must be Hook, slurred from the leather couch across the far wall of the lounge, lifting a beer glass at me, his other hand on the gauze on his stomach for emphasis. He was wearing jeans only. His hair was dark and in a messy ponytail. His beard was light, lighter than Laius’s, his eyes big and dark blue, and he looked like he had one of those permanent scowls on his forehead.

“And almost broke my leg, y’all. Let’s not forget about that. Had to do something,” another one said, glancing at me over his shoulder from the opposite couch. Texas, I presumed. Dirty blond. Also had no shirt on. God knew if he had pants on or not. Thankfully, the kitchen was behind that couch, and I could only see his head.

“Well, if you’d just introduced yourself properly, we wouldn’t have been in this situation,” I said.

“We didn’t know you were alone. Prez said you had company,” Texas said.

Tirone ducked his head and moved a little so he’d block anything from my view but him. “Who was it you were supposed to be with in a motel in Utah, Miss Meneceo, if I may ask?”

“You may not, and stop staring at me like that.”

“I’m sorry,” he taunted. “It’s a little weird, after all this time, to see you have blue eyes. It’s like you’re a totally different person.”

I shifted on my feet and directed my gaze toward Texas. “Did you bring my phone by any chance?”

He shook his head. “What phone?”

“The one I was holding when you raided my room. Hook?”

“No, ma’am. I was busy being shot.”

“Oh for God’s sake,” I mumbled. “Look, I’m sorry I shot you, but would you not have done the same thing had you been in my shoes?”

“Sure thing. I ain’t blaming ya. I admire your courage.”

I blinked in confusion. He didn’t show enough—any—emotion to know if he truly meant it or was mocking me. Honestly, other than his hand on the gauze and the slur in his voice, I wouldn’t know he was shot or was in any pain either.

“I grabbed your purse on the way out, if that’s any good,” Texas added. “We sent a prospect for your car and luggage, too. It’s right outside.”

“Thank you. That’s definitely helpful. Can you ask him if he’s found my phone?”