doubt she’d noticed his scar and wondered about it but would never have guessed its cause in a million years.
He could feel her stunned gaze on him, heating his skin as he watched Prick’s reaction.
“Shit,” the other man said. “That how you got, uh…” He motioned with his finger, drawing a line across his own throat.
“It is. About a month in. I was in a pretty shitty head space when they first locked me up, as you can imagine. Mouthed off to the wrong person.”
Prick cleared his throat and scratched his rounded stomach. “Yeah, uh, I can imagine. Being innocent and all.”
Tension filled the space between them as quiet ensured. Brooke seemed to sense it and react. She stiffened as though on high alert. The feel of her flesh against his palm kept him grounded. If she wasn’t standing beside him with her slightly citrus scent wafting his way, he was likely to wrap his hands around Prick’s neck and rejoice as the man turned various shades of purple.
Curly had reached his limit of making nice. “How about we cut the bullshit, huh?”
“Wha—”
He released Brooke and stepped toward Prick. “I’m chartering a new club here.”
Prick’s eyes lit as though he thought he had a chance in hell of patching in.
“This is now Hell’s Handler’s territory. You aren’t welcome in it, and neither is the shitty little group of boys you ride with. So fair warning, in case you plan on wearing colors of any kind.”
Look at that. He didn’t even need to strangle the guy to see his face turn a deep shade of purple.
“Prez—”
Curly lifted a hand. “I ain’t your fucking prez anymore.” Walking backward, he stopped beside Brooke. “You made that bed, and now that I’m back, you gotta lie in it.”
Prick might be a motherfucker, but he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut at that moment. Later, he’d get his merry band of dickwads together and bitch and moan to them.
“Now,” Curly continued. “I believe the lady had something to say to you.”
Her gaze shifted to the pitbull sitting off to the side, quietly watching the exchange, not like an obedient man’s best friend but like a mistreated animal afraid of its owner’s wrath.
She straightened, which had the effect of lifting her tits. Damn, the woman had a nice rack. And strong, shapely legs. And an ass he’d love to grab hold of. Shit, with those thighs wrapped around his hips and his hands full of that ass, a man could die happy and satisfied.
Fuck, another ten seconds of those thoughts, and he’d pop a boner Prick would notice. He’d gotten laid a few times right after he left prison, but it’d been like scratching an itch and only mildly rewarding. Might be time to remedy that situation and find himself a good fuck he could repeat a few times. Brooke’s attitude screamed hands off, though, even if he’d seen a flicker of interest in her gaze.
“There have been three injured dogs found on the outskirts of this property in the past six weeks,” she said in a firm voice.
Half of Prick’s mouth quirked up in a smug as fuck grin. “Yeah?”
“Yes,” she said, curling her small hands into fists at her sides. “Two died, and one lost a leg.”
“The fuck that gotta do with me?” Prick spat a brownish glob on the ground between them all.
“Charming,” Brooke muttered, making Curly cover a laugh with a grunt.
The woman had sass coming out her ears.
“If I find out you’re running a dog fighting ring—”
Prick laughed, making his gut jiggle. “You’ll what? Snoop around my property again? Pretty sure you don’t want to do that a second time. Next time you might not have someone around to save you.”
She stepped forward, bold as could be. “Did you just threaten me?”
“Brooke,” Curly began as he reached for her arm again.
This time she jerked away before he could reach her. “The police have been made aware of my suspicions. It won’t be long before they’re knocking on your door.”
“Oooh,” Prick said with a mock shudder. Then he laughed, making Brooke seethe. “Ain’t never been much of one to give a shit what the cops thought. Always been on their good side. Just ask your friend.” He jerked his chin in Curly’s direction. Then he turned and strode to the dog and unhooked the chain. After giving it an unnecessarily aggressive yank that had the dog whimpering, he started to walk away.
“Oh, hell no,” Brooke shouted as she lunged forward.