Page 73 of Kneeling to Candy

Ain’t that the truth?

“I’ll take whatever punishment comes my way,” I say, with a smirk. “Enough with the pep talk. Either get out of my way, or I’ll force you to move.”

Ziggy barks out a mocking laugh, waving his hand at me. “How? Your arms are full.”

He thinks he can call my bluff. Too bad for him. I’m not bullshitting. Nothing and nobody is going to derail my decision.

I look at Tank and motion with my chin at Ziggy. “Move him.”

Our giant brother looks between the two of us before shrugging his shoulders. He hoists Ziggy under his armpits, above his head.

“What the fuck?!” Ziggy shrieks, with his feet dangling in the air like a squirmy kid. Ziggy is as big as me, but we all look puny compared to Tank.

Tank places him back on his feet on the opposite side of the hallway, clearing my path.

“Stay,” Tank orders in a stern voice, like he’s speaking to one of Atlas and Jo’s Cane Corsos—Hades or Runt.

“The hell I will. I’m not a dog, asshole.”

While Tank plays interference, I drop off my woman’s things before returning for more of her stuff. Ziggy and Tank continue to rumble in the hallway as I empty her closet of the last of her belongings and place them in mine.

Ziggy must have juked Tank out as he reappears at my side, panting like he’s out of breath. “Dude, you need to come back from your trip down Delusional Lane. Candy is going to lose her shit once she sees you’ve invaded her space and meshed it with yours without her consent.”

“I’ll handle it,” I say defiantly, continuing to load my arms with her things.

Ziggy grabs fistfuls of his blond curly hair. “I’m trying to help you, Butch!”

“Then fucking help me,” I snap at him, motioning with my empty hand to the room. “Grab her stuff and move it. Enough of the lecturing. I know what hot water I’m going to be in, and I don’t care.”

“Bro! Snap out of it.”

My best friend means well, but I’ve heard enough. I say the one thing to shut him up or any other brother who challenges my actions.

“She’s my old lady. Her place is with me.”

Like I suspect, Ziggy is stunned, his mouth dropping open.

Yeah, I said it. Made my claim out loud for anyone in earshot to hear.

Tank nods appreciatively, moving into the bedroom. He waves a finger at the two dressers. “Which one is hers?”

“The one near the window.”

Needing no other prompting, Tank removes a drawer from her dresser and passes it to Ziggy.

“But—” Ziggy protests.

Tank shakes his head. “No buts. Biker code—she’s his property.”

“More like I’m hers,” I mutter under my breath, collecting her favorite blanket from the back of the couch.

The three of us work quickly, hauling her things across the hall to our shared space.

During the move, Punk walks by the old suite and immediately backpedals, stopping in the doorway. His face stretches into a wide grin as he takes in the chaos we’ve created.

“Oooo,” he sniggers, rubbing his hands together like some cartoon villain. “This fight is going to be epic. I’m putting everything on Candy for the win.”

Tank snorts. “Dude has got a death wish. Not our place to reason. He’s claimed her. End of discussion.”

---