Skirt (Ruthless Kings MC #5) - K.L. Savage Page 0,52
I don’t fucking like it when people hurt kids, and I have a feeling your lady wants her son back and you want your lady happy. Am I right?”
I tilt my chin down, submitting to the Prez.
Losing is not an option.
“Good. Now, go update Dawn. I’m sure she’s going to want to know there’s a little more hope now.”
“Hope? About child sex trafficking? That will destroy her.”
“So will knowing the truth too late. Tell her now, let her wrap her head around it. The sooner she knows, the better.” Reaper puts his cigarette out on the table and takes out four stacks of cash. “The rest is yours.”
He pats me on the back as he leaves, and I’m left staring at money and too much information swirling in my head. The weight of this entire situation is on my shoulders, and the only way to get rid of it is to win.
I’m not like my brother. I’m a good fighter, but I’m not great. “Conor, if ye can hear me right now, I really need ye help. I can’t do it alone. Dawn needs me, Aidan needs me, the club is depending on me. Send down some of that fighting ability that ye took with ye to the grave.” The black bag of cash taunts me, and the first thing I think of is buying a new bike for myself since my other one is in the junkyard behind King’s garage. It can only be used for parts now.
Conor is silent, which I figured would be the case, but one can only hope that spirits and shit are real. I snatch the bag off the table and stomp my way toward the door. When I open it, Tongue is there, arms bracketing the way out.
“Tongue, I’m not in the mood.”
“I’m never in the mood. Some of the club is going with you tonight. I’m your bodyguard.”
A bodyguard? At a fucking fight?
If I’m lucky, I’ll be the one stopping Tongue before he kills someone. Great, now on top of everything, I have to fucking babysit.
I’m only one man. There’s only so much I can do.
Chapter Thirteen
DAWN
“I’m going to this fight,” I yell at Skirt when he dares to tell me I have to sit here on my ass, staring at the fucking wall, waiting for him and half the club to come back.
“Ye can’t. I won’t be able to focus on the fight if I’m worried about ye. Please, just listen to me.”
“Aidan could be there.”
“He won’t be there!” Skirt shouts back at me, and I flinch. I know he won’t hit me, but I can’t stop the impulse. “Lips…” He pulls my head toward him by gripping the side of my jaw, his thumb laying on my bottom lip. “I won’t ever hit ye. I don’t mean to scare ye, but what if Cohen is there and he takes ye from me? I only just found ye, Dawn. I can’t focus on finding ye and Aidan. Please.”
I tangle myself in his embrace. I want to cry. “Skirt, I need to go. I’ll stay near Tongue or someone equivalent to him. I need to. Don’t take this from me. Please,” I beg.
“No,” he says.
I wrench away from his grasp and shove him. “I’m going to find a way there. Whether you like it or not.”
“If ye go, I swear, Dawn, I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” I hiss, pushing his chest again. “I’m going!” I scream until my voice breaks, and his chest rises and falls in heavy beats.
He grabs the shoulders of my shirt and picks me up, tossing me on the couch. “Ye aren’t going! That’s fucking final.” He rips my shirt off and bites my nipple so hard tears spring to my eyes.
I cry out, frustrated, angry, and turned on.
“Tell me ye want go.”
“No,” I say defiantly.
“Yer a fucking headache, ye know that.”
“I guess you haven’t met yourself because you’re a bigger pain in my ass than that damn cactus in yours!” I shout. “I’m going, and there is nothing you can do about it.”
“Maybe this will shut you up then.” He flips up his kilt and pushes my head down toward his cock, but I push him away. He thinks I’m playing our game. Push and pull, shove and slap, but this is a hard limit for me. I don’t suck cock like this, not when Skirt is mad. I can’t do it.
“Get off me!” I roll away from him, and he stares at me with regretful eyes.