“Fuck him. I see him and I’m ending him,” Mountain growls. “I’ll put the bullet through his head myself.”
I don’t blame him, I feel the same way, except, I know what kind of man Jaguar is. He’s not going to ruin his entire brotherhood, his oath, for pussy. He may fuck up a little in the heat of the moment, but he’s not going to completely ruin everything, he has a plan.
“Mountain,” Taz shouts. “He didn’t take them. He didn’t have to help them and he sure as fuck didn’t have to call us to not only tell us where they are, but where he is too. Trista is my Old Lady and she’s gone too, you ain’t the only one whose woman is missing.”
Mountain takes a step toward Dragon, I watch as he lifts his hand, extends his finger, and points it directly into the center of Dragon’s chest. I wince at the imagined sensation of having a man’s finger pointed at my chest. Many men have had their digits broken over that shit.
“You didn’t call me. If something happens to her that I could have prevented, you didn’t fucking call me,” Mountain growls.
“It wouldn’t matter, we didn’t know where she was.”
“You don’t get to make that call,” Mountain grinds out.
Dragon leans forward, his lip curled in a snarl. “I’m the fucking president, so yeah, I do.”
I decide it’s time for me to step into this conversation. “No, Dragon. You don’t. You’ve overstepped, again. I get you toe the line and usually shit works out fine when you do. This is different, that wasn’t your call to make. Mountain deserved to know his woman was missing and I sure as fuck deserved to know my daughter was.”
“She ain’t branded. And Trista’s man knew she was gone. I am well within the fucking scope of my duties and requirements as president of the Savage Beasts,” Dragon snorts.
My blood is boiling inside of me, I’m on the edge and my fingers twitch to reach for the closest object that I can find so that I can beat the shit out of my president. I don’t do that though, I have bigger goddamn fish to fry than Dragon and his bullshit.
I have to find my fucking daughter.
Chapter Three
TWO MONTHS LATER
AVAH
I smile at the customer as I slide over the documents for him to sign. He gives me a leering look, his gaze flicking to my tits before he brings it back up to my eyes, as if I didn’t see him. I don’t wipe the smile off of my face though.
Customer service fucking sucks ass.
However, it’s the only job that I’m qualified for, plus it’s the only job I’ve ever been trained for. Layne may have trained me to spread my legs for my customers and this isn’t exactly that, but I know how to turn on the charm, sell some shit with a smile even if I find the customer repulsive.
I’m good at this though. Sales, smiling, pretending—being fake. I’m phenomenal at being fake, head to toe, inside and out.
The customer signs the documents and I continue to go over all of them with him before I hand him the keys to his brand-new Corvette. He leans over the desk, his coffee breath washing over my face.
“You want to take a spin? Be the first passenger?” he asks.
They always ask this, always. Keeping my award-winning smile firmly in place, I tilt my head to the side and used my syrupy sweet fake voice to answer him. “I’m sorry, sir. I’m not allowed to do that. I hope that you enjoy your new car, it’s a beautiful machine.”
He stands, mumbling something to himself then grunts before he leaves my office and walks straight out of the glass doors and toward the bright red Vette. Tipping my chin down, I begin to finish the computer work to go along with this sale before I slip my copy of the documents into a file.
My doorway dims with a shadow. Lifting my head, I look up to meet the eyes of the same man who darkens my doorway every fucking day.
“Graham,” I say, trying not to sigh in annoyance, but it’s really hard because he’s really fucking annoying.
He’s asked me out every single day since I started here six weeks ago. He is relentless and he doesn’t understand that it’s never going to happen. Never. Going. To. Happen.
“Another one? Must be nice to make sales left and right,” he grumbles.
Not only does he keep asking me out, he’s also starting to become angry that I’m selling more cars than he is, which in turn means I’m making more money than he is with my commissions. He’s getting very combative with me, all the while attempting to get in my panties. He’s the typical angry male, although I like assholes, he’s nothing like Hawk.
“Just doing my job, Graham,” I announce as I dip my chin and pretend to do more paperwork.
Thankfully, a few moments later he turns and stomps out of the room. I don’t bother watching him, knowing exactly what an oversized man who is throwing a tantrum looks like. I could live my whole life and never see a man-baby tantrum ever again.
I work until nine in the evening, selling one more car. This one doesn’t give me a huge commission, it’s a used minivan that I sell to a single mother. In fact, I decide not to take a commission at all. She’s worn and terrified, afraid that she’s not going to be able to afford even its low price.
This woman is a hard worker with mouths to feed. She deserves a hand up and that’s exactly what I aim to give her. Instead of charging her even low Blue Book, I decide to pay for half of the van myself, without telling her.
Leaving the office, her worn smile taking up her entire face and making her look
