Wrath (Heartlands Motorcycle Club #7) - Dani Wyatt Page 0,13

the car. I’m going back to check in with the crew and I want dinner ready at seven. And put the ice cream away. You don’t need to be eating junk. Make a salad for yourself if you’re hungry.”

I roll my eyes and take a long slow spoonful of ice cream and let out an exaggerated moan that borders on orgasmic.

He glares at me, but he’s ruined my moment, and I just want to be away from him so I throw off the blanket. “I’m going to my room. It’s a bit crowded in here.”

I step by him and he grabs my arm, jerking me around to look at him. He always smells like old man, even though he’s maybe forty, his scent reminding me of my grandfather’s room at the nursing home the last few years he was still alive.

“You know, it’s your job to honor thy father and mother. You know what your father wants. You know where a woman’s place is. Your father’s spoiled you, but it’s time to grow up.”

I jerk my arm away just as he releases his grip and my half-eaten bowl of ice cream goes flying, smashing on the wood floor and spreading into a gloopy puddle of creamy wonder.

“Really?” I snap, shaking my head at him as I march into the kitchen and grab some towels. Before I get back, his phone is ringing and he steps down the hall and into my father’s office like he has already taken over, closing the door behind him. “Such an asshole,” I mutter as I clean up the mess, making another trip back to the kitchen with the broken bowl and returning with a wet cloth to try to get the rest of the sticky mess.

“I have to go. One of the parishioners has an emergency. I’ll be back for dinner.” He looks at his phone, then back to me. “And get dressed. Do your hair. I should be back by seven. I want a real, home cooked meal, hot when I get here.”

6 | Wrath

I slept at the bar because I wanted to watch her house. That fucktard’s car was there all night, making me homicidal thinking he was in the house with her.

Slept isn’t quite accurate, either. I sat up most of the night looking through her windows with binoculars. The only thing that kept me from knocking the door down and beheading junior was the fact he wasn’t with her. She was in her bedroom. She closes the blinds at night, I know because this isn’t the first time I’ve done this shit.

That fuck walked the house most of the night. What he was doing, I’m not sure, but he was never with her and I could see him lay down on the couch when he did sleep so that at least kept him alive.

He’s been doing some shit at the church most of the day. Her friend picked her up a while ago and that gave me some relief that she was going to be away from him. He left about ten minutes ago and I couldn’t take it anymore.

I’d been up all night, so I needed a shower. I ran my ass home, jumped in and out, and groomed as best I could as fast as I could, because I have plans. All I could think of was her scent. The way my heart feels like it’s coming alive for the first time whenever I’m around her.

Once I clean up, I’m back on my bike and make my way back to her place, parking in the driveway before I march my ass to the front door, still not sure what I’m going to say but I know I’m done waiting.

I’m sure she’s heard my bike, but when I get to the door the house is practically vibrating with some industrial metal music and I look at the piece of white paper taped to the glass on the storm door.

‘Here’s your dinner. Don’t bother coming in.’ There’s an arrow below the words, pointing down, and I look down to see a white paper plate with a slice of what looks like baloney that makes me choke out a laugh.

Not sure what that’s all about, but girl’s got a backbone and no fear, and that only makes me want her more.

I rap my knuckles on the wooden front door and wait, but the music changes tracks to something even more violent sounding and there’s no way she can hear me over