Tracker, Stoney’s right-hand man, comes walking up and starts to look at his Prez but shifts his eyes over to me. “Heard Ricochet and Venom were at Dolly’s for a bit. A couple of the girls said they weren’t there to enjoy the show. You know anything about that?”
Shit, obviously they weren’t being as subtle as they could’ve been. I wear the poker face my momma taught me at the young age of three and look right into the man who really should be an enforcer. “I told them to go over and enjoy the show. It didn’t hurt that Dolly’s is where some chatter has happened in regards to the cult. You have a problem with my people showing up there?” I ask Tracker, but I turn my neck and glare right at Stoney. “Do you have a problem with it, Stoney?”
He sits up a bit straighter, crosses his arms and cocks a brow. “I don’t know, Tala. Should I have a problem?”
Reverse psychology isn’t something I’m fond of. And secondly, how the fuck does he know my real name? Everyone calls me ‘Boss’ unless you were my father, grandfather, or mom. “I don’t see why anyone would have a problem when we’re working to achieve the same goal.”
He scoffs, “Well, since when do partners double-cross the other to get more information?”
Whoa. Hold up a second. “Who in the world said we were ever partners? We’re allies, Stoney. We’re working together to achieve a common goal. I’m not your fuckin’ ol’ woman. I’m your friend, who you happened to have fucked. Don’t get shit twisted. I can barely stand you as it is.”
“Damn, Sugar. Didn’t realize we’re friends.” His stern expression grows into a devilish smirk.
Fuck, that’s not the way I wanted this conversation to be going. Now he’s just gonna try to keep fucking with me to get a reaction. “Let me rephrase so your ego doesn’t twist shit. I can’t stand you, Stoney. The only reason I’m sitting right here in your club is because you’ve had experience with cults too. I’m not sitting here because I like you, because I don’t. I can’t fucking stand you most of the time because you’re a misogynistic asshole who’s stuck back in the nineteen-eighties or something. I bet you don’t even believe in equal pay, or women voting too!”
Stoney shoots up from his chair and flips over the table we’re sitting at, almost crushing me underneath it. I barely get out of the way, but I notice the way the vein on his forehead pulses with his obvious anger.
“You are the very reason I will never lock down my dick for any woman. You always seem to think everything is about your kind when it’s not.”
I chuckle in a scoffing manner. “You’ve just proven my point.”
“You know what, Boss. I think you and your club should get the fuck out of Stonewall Mills. We’ll work together to take down this club, but don’t you ever think for a second we’re friends. ‘Cause we’re not. I can’t fuckin’ stand you either.”
I blink a couple times, processing what he’s just said, and take my leave, heading out to my bike parked in front of the club. It’s about time we get the hell out of here, especially before shit gets even more heated.
Chapter Nine
Stoney
“Are you still in a foul mood?” Kenny asks cheerfully the moment I answer my phone. It’s been about two weeks since Boss and I had our blow-up, but damn, it rubbed me the wrong way. As much as I don’t like to admit it, Tala somehow managed to get under my skin like some infectious parasite.
How? Who the hell knows. The woman screws with my head. We constantly fought over every little thing. I knew she didn’t trust me. She made that clear, and to be honest, I didn’t trust her either. It’s the way it was and will always be between us. Neither of us trusting the other.
“Who says I’m in a bad mood?” I grumble.
“No one said you were. I can hear it in your voice,” Kenny says, her tone changing from her cheerful self to being serious. That’s my daughter-in-law for you. She always knows when something is wrong with her family. She’s a miniature Momma B in the making, that’s for sure.
“Well, I’m good, sweetheart. What can I do for you?” I ask. I know she didn’t call me for no reason. It’s not her style. Kenny prefers to show up randomly rather than calling.
“I just wanted to call and tell you that if you don’t get your son to stop knocking me up, I’m going to castrate him,” she says nonchalantly.
“You tellin’ me I’m about to have another kid to be a grandpop too?” I ask while chuckling. I can’t help but shake my head at the fact she’s pregnant again.
“Yes, and it’s not funny. For once, I’d like to be able to have a drink. Do you know when the last time I drank tequila with Izzy was? Three years. Three fuckin’ years, because your son can’t seem to wrap his dick up. He’s always gotta rile me up and then fuck with my head.” Kenny’s ramblings continue for another full minute about not taking the chance of drinking while breast feeding the kids. Doesn’t help that both JC and Kayla are so close in age. Now there will be a third kid.
“Well, I did teach my son to wrap his shit,” I say doing my best not to laugh.
“Seems that conversation didn’t sink in. You Dane men and your super sperm. I swear.”
Throwing my head back, I burst out laughing. This is exactly what I needed. Kenny always seems to have a way of making me laugh.
“Glad to see my dilemma amuses you,” she grumbles.
“Sweetheart, I needed that laugh. Now stop being dramatic about being knocked up again and go tell your ol’ man,” I tell her.
“Then my job is done. Love you, Stoney,”
