Page 10 of Blackbeard
She shrugged.
“Dad asked me to. Wouldn’t you turn the world upside down for your sweet little nieces and nephews if they asked?”
Big G blinked at me in surprise.
“You told her about your family?”
“No, I didn’t,” I growled with frustration. “Princess must have been nosy.”
My family meant the world to me. Our mixed heritage resulted in a melting pot of cultures and ethnicities—Mexican, Native American, Italian, and Puerto Rican.
I had three brothers, two sisters, and over two dozen nieces and nephews. On top of that, I had even more cousins, aunts,and uncles spread throughout Montana, down into Texas, Mexico, and Southern California.
Even though I didn’t have kids or a wife of my own, I took my role as the overprotective uncle very seriously. I did my best to prevent them from getting tangled up in club business though. It would destroy me if something happened to any of them on my watch.
Leigh preened, smug as a cat with a bowl of cream.
“No need to sulk about it, tough guy. I like to be prepared. When my dad suggested one of you might wife me up, I had to do my homework.”
“How old are you anyway?” Kingpin asked.
She straightened her shoulders and tilted her chin up.
“Twenty-eight.”
“Jesus,” he mumbled. “Half of the men in my club are nearly twice your age.”
“Which is a problem because…?” She ventured. “An older husband just means I will outlive him. No big deal.”
Not that Prez had much of a leg to stand on with that argument. There was a significant nine-year age gap between him and his wife. Hell, even the club bunnies that liked to hang around the clubhouse were younger than Leigh, and no one protested it.
“Crash is twenty-six,” Spike mused.
Big G grimaced and leaned back in his chair, shaking his head with a warning look.
“Don’t go there, brother.”
Gavin "Crash" Fowler was our Prospect. And he wasn’t even in the room. He wouldn’t be allowed to join Church meetings and vote until he was a full-fledged member.
As the Prospect, he typically got saddled with the dirty work and menial labor that the rest of us didn’t want to do. Thismarriage proposal certainly qualified as a task that no one would touch if they had a choice in the matter.
Although his brother had died at the hands of the Forsaken five years ago. Crash would be livid when he heard that we were seriously considering joining forces with the Forsaken through an arranged marriage with the President’s daughter.
God, what a nightmare this would be for him.
“You’re talking about the Fowler kid,” Popeye said with a stern tone of disapproval. “I remember him. He wanted my guts for garters.”
When the Forsaken had dropped by last October, Crash had made his feelings known about their presence. If we hadn’t stopped him, I have no doubt he would have tried something stupid.
Like strangling Popeye with his bare hands.
“You killed his brother,” I said in a flat voice. “And you’ve never apologized for that, let alone shown even an ounce of remorse. Not that it would do any good. An apology won’t bring Digger back from the dead.”
Kingpin directed a warning look at me.
“Crash is our Prospect now,” he said to Popeye. “We’ll keep him in line.”
Popeye brushed off his reassurance.
