Page 13 of Heir

Not that he was all that old. He had me when he was fifteen.

A kid who was trying to do the best he could with what he was given. My earlier years weren’t the best, but he always protected me. I didn’t resent him for anything that happened that was beyond his control.

The same couldn’t be said for my bitch of a mom.

My fists clenched as those intrusive dark thoughts came, and they would not leave me alone.

Fucking hell, but I didn’t want to start the day thinking about that bitch.

I took a deep breath and tried to get her out of my head, but in her place was the image of my dad’s lifeless body.

Fuck.

He was alive and well—thank fuck—but he had made people think he was dead to draw out the fucking traitors of the club.

It would have been nice had he let us know what his plans were before he did it, but I knew why he didn’t.

He was afraid we were being watched. It wasn’t even an hour after we received the news that he was dead when he finally made his reappearance, but fuck if that hour didn’t draw attention to the reality of the situation.

My dad was not a model citizen.

In fact, he was as far from that as possible, and there were many out there who wanted him dead.

I knew that, and he knew that, and I fucking hated the way I was feeling right now.

I hated how unsteady everything was, and that was why I brought back the woman from the bar last night. I hadn’t wanted to come back to an empty apartment.

I had gone out with Blue and the boys from the club, hoping it would numb all the emotions raging inside me. And instead, I did something stupid. I let some stranger invade my personal space.

I shook away the thought and quickly got ready for my day.

I debated a shower, but I didn’t want to leave her alone for too long. It didn’t matter that she had been sound asleep and handcuffed to the bed when I left her.

I didn’t want her in my space at all, and I considered how I could kick her out without her causing a scene.

I walked out to my room, ignoring the loud snores coming from my bed, trying to hold onto my annoyance.

I walked out to the kitchen and looked out the window while the coffee brewed.

The city was just waking up.

I was born in Las Vegas and lived there for the first ten years of my life. But Sacramento was my home. It was my city. The kingdom my old man created with his own two hands would be mine, and I planned on making him proud.

I took in the impressive view of the Tower Bridge from my apartment—then a small noise in my bedroom caught my attention.

It was subtle, but it was enough to get me moving.

I walked into the bedroom and watched the woman’s eyes flutter as she shifted on the bed and finally opened them, the softness from sleep still present. I’d hate to take that look away, but she had worn out her welcome.

“Hey,” she cooed, her voice hoarse. I wondered if that was her natural voice or if years of chain smoking had altered it. I had tasted cigarettes in her mouth the night before when we were making out.

She sat up, and the sheets fell to her trim waist and flat stomach, exposing her tits.

She had nice tits.

Natural, perky, and enough of a handful.

Nice tits or not, they weren’t enough to hold my attention now, and I could fucking feel my skin crawling the longer she stayed here.

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