“That doesn’t look right to me. I know for a fact we’ve never made a late payment.”
“You’d be right,” I nod, leaning back in my desk chair. This whole situation is only pissing me off more than I already am.
As treasurer for the East Michigan Dark Leopards MC, I’m the calmest, most easy-going guy you’ll meet. But mess with my money or my club, and I’ll lose my shit faster than you’d expect. Being one of the finest sharpshooters in the Marines taught me to be extremely handy with technology and knives. Trust me when I say, there's more than one reason my brothers call me Hacker - and that doesn’t bode well for anyone.
“Has to be somehow connected to Billingsworth. Have you started digging?” he asks and receives a frown from me.
“Is that a real question?” I growl. How can he even think I’d not be on top of this shit? “What the fuck do you think? Of course, I’m on it. Started the minute I knew something wasn’t right.” I’m leaning forward over the desk, close enough to Roark to make my point clear. This only pisses him off to where he’s leaning toward me as well, tense and returning my glare. My dominant nature matches his own more than is preferred, but I can’t help that. Somehow, we just make it work.
“Watch your tone, Hack,” he warns, not bothering me in the least.
“Then don’t ask stupid questions,” I pop off without a thought. My attitude isn’t as respectful as is proper, but I’m fuckin’ livid someone’s trying to mess up my bookkeeping by tinkering with the club’s accounts. I love what I do, taking great pride in having everything perfect. This? This is personal.
“I get you’re angry. Known you a long time, brother, but you’d do best to watch yourself when you speak to me,” he slowly replies calmly, yet full of menace. There is no doubt he’d rip my head off if I were any other brother. We stare at each other for several long moments until he gives me a slight chin jerk and stomps to the door. “Church in an hour,” he says before leaving my office and slamming the door behind him. Sitting through a club meeting isn’t what I want to do right now.
Releasing the breath I was holding, I turn to the wall of computers to my left and check for any information on that douche bag, Richard Billingsworth. He’s proven to the club that he’ll stop at nothing to get our club’s land for his outlandish developments and I’m positive this is just another attempt to get us out of the way and reach his goal.
“Come on, baby,” the club slut purrs in my ear as she straddles my lap. “Let me take your mind off your problems for a while.” Church was over hours ago, and I may have partaken in a few drinks since then. Everyone was pissed at what I had found, but since there’s nothing we can do right this minute, we’re all dealing with it in our own way.
She positions herself over my cock and does her best to coax him into joining her. It doesn’t work. She, as well as the other club girls, should know by now that unless I’m the one propositioning, I’m not partaking in their honey pot. I love sex as much as the next brother, but easy pussy isn’t as appealing to me as the other members, no matter how much I’ve had to drink.
My parents were mates and devoted to and in love with each other until the day they died. Having parents like that and all that comes with it gives me a different perspective about relationships that I still hold on to, regardless of how much Marine combat has changed the rest of me. Have I fucked around? Of course, but I’m nowhere near the manwhore biker one expects. Quick and easy sex only works for so long until I need more.
“Not interested, Peach,” I reply, pulling her hands away from my chest as she tries to slide the cut from my shoulders.
“I’m sure I can change your mind,” she tries once again to persuade me, this time adding more pressure as she grinds down on my limp cock.
“Not gonna happen,” I growl, my leopard in agreement as I grab her waist and haul her scantily clad ass off my lap. I’ve had quite a few drinks, but I’m not that drunk. She had better take the hint because I’m already pissed off from receiving those fucking bank statements and dealing with this pathetic attempt at making me her next free ride isn’t lightening my mood in the slightest. “Get out of my sight before I kick you out of my club.” My leopard is all kinds of agitated and if she doesn’t make the right choice, He might make an appearance.
“You can’t do that,” she huffs, uncertainty filtering through her words. Fortunately for Peach, one of the other brothers sidles up from behind and drags her back against his chest.
“Wanna bet?” I challenge, wanting nothing more than to prove her wrong. My beast is riled up and ready to take it out on someone.
Leaning over her shoulder he growls in her ear, “I’ve got what you want,” before hauling her, delightedly surprised, over his shoulder and off to his room. Thank fuck.
“Not what you’re looking for?” X, one of the club’s enforcers and my best friend, chuckles as he takes a seat beside me on the sofa, beer in hand, and hands me a fresh one.
“Hell, no. Club girls have gotten a lot more aggressive lately. They should
