Page 17 of Cocky Jerk

“I think you leave a lot to be desired, Curly Sue,” I continue, dropping my hand back to my side. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“Oh, you’ll see me for sure,” she says, turning to enter the house. Closing the door, she peeks back at me, a smirk toying on her pretty mouth. Her mischievous eyes meet mine and she says, “You’ll see me in traffic court when I fight those tickets.”

Game on, Curly Sue.

Game fucking on.

Chapter Six

Antonia

After I got rid ofHound and bid farewell to the hunky cop, I locked myself inside my childhood home and ordered a pizza—half pepperoni, half sausage, the cure to all. By the time I had scarfed down most of the pie and binged an episode ofCriminal Minds, I was feeling much better. I might even go so far as to say I was relaxed. A rarity for me ever since my dad ordered me to spend my nights at the clubhouse. Coming home, though, giving myself a break from the Corrupt Hellraisers, was just what I needed to recharge.

However, I knew it was only fleeting. Hound didn’t show up here last night of his own free will. He’s not the type to chase girls. Not when he’s looking to get in their pants and sure as hell not after he’s done with them. Which is why as soon as I heard the blare of his pipes, I knew my dad had sent him. I also knew he probably ordered Hound to drag me back to the clubhouse, and for a minute there, I expected the beast to do just that—to drag me, kicking and screaming across the lawn until he had me secured to the back of his bike.

That’s where Marco came in. I figured if Hound thought I was on a date, he’d relent. Like he doesn’t chase girls, he also doesn’t fight for them. Well, at least that’s what I thought. I didn’t expect him to punch Marco in the jaw, but before I could analyze that, Marco fired back and almost revealed he was a cop.

Now, it’s one thing for Tank DeLuca’s daughter to be with a man outside the club, it’s a whole different ballgame for that man to be a police officer. In an attempt to keep him from spilling the beans, I elbowed Marco in the ribs and left him reeling to go deal with Hound. As suspected, he demanded I leave with him. The caveman thing was hot when he was giving me orgasms, but it lost its appeal as soon as he zipped his pants and moved onto the next chick. Hound didn’t get to order me around. He didn’t get to act as though I was his possession—even if it was all fake and at my father’s command, and he certainly didn’t get a say in who I dated or fake dated for that matter. Bottom line, Hound needed to back off. We exchanged words, and I offered him front row seats to my pretend night with Marco, which he declined.

Thank fuck for that.

I don’t know how I would’ve pulled that one off. It’s one thing to force a cop you barely know to be your boyfriend, it's fucking awkward to follow that act up with asking him to get naked.

Eventually, Hound gave up. He straddled his bike and dragged his pipes to deliver a message to my dad. All I wanted was twenty-four hours of peace. No ex-booty call meddling in my life and no overprotective father trying to control me.

I barely got twelve hours, but it’s something.

Sighing, I enter the kitchen and my eyes connect with my dad’s. Next time I decide to spend the night as an introvert, I might want to change the locks.

“What are you doing here?” I question, diverting my eyes to the two cups of coffee from Dunkin Donuts he holds in his hands.

“I gave you your time, Tonia,” he says, pushing one of the containers toward me.

Lifting my chin, I meet his gaze and note there is an unfamiliar sense of desperation reflected in his eyes. The more I stare, the older he looks, and I start to count the lines on his face, wondering how many of them I’ve caused and if it compares to how many are a result of his beloved club.

Shaking the thought from my head, I take the coffee and sigh.

“Dad, I can’t do this right now. I have to get to work.”

“Antonia this can’t wait anymore,” he says.

From the sound of his tone, I can tell he’s losing his patience with me. I just wish I cared.

“Now, I get I might not have been the best father to you, but I tried my hardest. You want to pull away from the club, we can talk about it…down the road. Now is not the time to act like a petulant child.”

“A petulant child?”

“What, you didn’t think your old man knew any fancy words?”

Honestly? No.

But I don’t tell him that, not when the vein in his forehead looks like it might explode. He places his cup on the counter and advances toward me.

“Tonia, I’m all for you spreading your wings, but maybe you can do it when the club isn’t on the cusp of another street war and we don’t have the NYPD’s gang unit sniffing around, looking to throw us behind bars,” he growls, roughly running his fingers through his salt and pepper hair.

The club is always on the verge of war. If it’s not a rival club itching to move in on my dad’s territory, it’s the mob pushing in or worse, a common street thug looking to make a name for himself. As far as the cop thing goes, of course they’re sniffing around. They’re always looking to arrest them for one thing or another. If the world ever runs out of toilet paper, they can wipe their asses with all the rap sheets of the Corrupt Hellraisers. That should tide them over.

Meeting his gaze, I lower the coffee cup and swipe my keys from the table.

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