Page 86 of One Night with the Biker

“Kids are?”

“I have a bunch of them, so I suppose so. Two of them patched in to my club. I’m like Daddy. Only recognize my sons.”

“I suppose you’re likeDaddyin regard to how you feel about women?”

“He didn’t have a lot of love for bitches.” Bash once again dropped his cigarette to the floor and stomped it out. “Sometimes, Daddy left me with club sluts. Ten and eleven, you don’t see broads one way or the other. They saw me as a fuck toy and a punching bag. Those sluts spat on me, burned me with hot water and cigarettes, fucked me, made me eat pussy. I swore I’d make every cunt pay once I grew up. I kept my promise. Daddy showed me what to do when he found out what they did to me.”

I didn’t know how to feel about Bash. Most of me abhorred his violence and cruelty towards women. Maybe if I hadn’t had my mother until I was fifteen, I would’ve been a brutal as Bash. My father wasn’t a cheater. He loved and respected my mother,and he adored Ainsley. He stood between me and the harsher side of club life, even when I was twenty-five.

“My father was a great man,” Bash continued. “He was almost nineteen when I was born and my momma overdosed when I was two months old. Daddy took me on the road with him and kept me at his side his entire life. My father wasn’t a good motherfucker to most people. Besides me, I can count on one hand the people he looked out for.I’mnot a good motherfucker. If you don’t like me, I don’t care.Idon’t like Boom Boom, insisting you sell your own sister.”

“He wants to sell his daughter.”

“Is a daughter a sister?” he demanded, scowling.

I blinked. “It’s a tad worse to most people,” I pointed out.

“I don’t agree. You know sisters first.”

I refused to argue with a man convinced he was right.

“You’re going to be here for about a month,” he said, flipping yet again and changing the subject. “Weekends are packed. Weekdays are mostly regulars. The bitch du jour has breakfast on the side table by 8AM. We’re responsible for our own lunch. Dinner is at 6PM. Food’s out until it’s gone. You miss it, you fucking starve. Church is on Wednesday evenings after dinner. Walk out this fucking room then and I have to kill you.”

“I thought you had people to take care of me sooner than that?”

“Well, motherfucker, mypeoplecan only work within the constraints of your capabilities. Hand transplants were suggested to me, but you have to be in the headspace where taking immunosuppressants for the rest of your fucking life is something you can do. Whether you live another ten years or another fifty, it has to become just a part of your routine. And,you, miserable fuckhead, aren’t there yet.”

“You aren’t inside me,” I yelled. “You don’t know what the fuck’s going on in my head to say what I’ll do.”

“Don’t have to be. I know what you’renotdoing, and that’s getting up off your fucking ass andtryingto take care of yourself.”

Glowering at me, he got to his feet, opened the door, and yelled, “London!”

Footsteps clipped down the hallway and then halted. Bash snatched a girl into my room and shoved her to me so hard she fell into my arms. Indignation flashed in her long-lashed gray eyes as she scrambled out of my embrace. Long, dark hair mantled her back and shoulders. Sweet pink lips drew my attention and I licked my own.

“Tío’s bitch,” Bash announced, thumping her shoulder.

“You’re treating your uncle’s woman like this and you expect me to believe Ainsley’s safe?”

“My uncle’s…? Tío is my son. Named him in honor of his heritage.”

I lifted a brow. “Isn’t he American like you?”

“His mother was Colombian. She met with an unfortunate end within weeks of his birth, so I claimed him and named him. DNA proved he was mine.”

Shifting her weight, London clasped her hands together. She gazed at my cock, suddenly erect, and glanced away, a blush creeping into her cheeks.

Pinning her with cold dislike, Bash nodded to her. “Little Miss London is a physical therapist. For the next month, she’s at your beck and call, though part of her duties will be to prepare you for your prosthetics. We’ll have a suitable prosthetist by this time next week.”

“You can’t keep me here against my will,” London spat. “My job will report me as missing.”

Bash balled his fist but I moved quicker than I had in days and took the blow meant for her. It landed on my chest, whereas he meant to knock her out with a hit to her head.

“Awww, such a gentleman. London,” he continued without missing a beat, “you’ve made Tío very unhappy. Maybe you can absolve yourself and get back into my good graces if you help Roman. You can suck his cock. Give him pussy and you’re dead. Your cunt, like you, belongs to my son.”

“She won’t help me if she’s here under duress.”

“Then she dies,” Bash said simply. “So I suggest you two follow my orders. You’ll get back to your sister and London will breathe another day.”

---