Page 26 of Marcus: Sins of the Father

I cringe at the comparison. “Absolutely fucking not like a sorority.”

She glances sideways at me. “I think it fits.”

I can’t help but chuckle at her expression. We continue to chitchat and tease each other the whole way there, and by the time we arrive, I feel lighthearted again.

I direct her into the industrial park where the clubhouse is located, buried deep in the back.

Her eyes flick to me. “This isn’t exactly what I expected.”

“Right here on the left.” I point across the dashboard to a two-story red brick warehouse surrounded by a chain-link fence.

Brandy coasts to a stop, and I hop out to unlock the gate with the keys I carry. It swings open, and she rolls through, parking in the spot where I gesture.

When she climbs out, I hear a low wolf whistle behind us.

“Damn, Marcus. Looks like an angel did come to your rescue,” Billy jokes, eyeing Brandy in her tight jeans, fitted tank, and pink fur jacket. “Hey Brandy, don’t know if you remember me…”

“You were part of the Christmas cake brigade.”

The memory of our shit mission has his face fall a bit. “Yeah, not exactly how’d I like a beautiful girl to remember me, but I guess it worked for Marcus. Must be pity.” He elbows me.

“Something like that.” She gives me a mischievous smile.

“All right, stop flirting with my girl, and help me unload this damn bike.”

I glance over at Brandy and see she hasn’t missed my words, but she doesn’t correct me either. She may not be my girl yet, but she will be. I’m nothing if not determined.

We unload the bike and push it into the garage.

“I’d stay and help, but I don’t want to. Plus, I’m on gate duty. Cole will kick my ass if he rolls up, and I’m not there.” His eyes connect with mine. We both know the importance of that job, especially now that we’ve got the Death Heads up to who-the-hell-knows-what.

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to piss off your future father-in-law,” I harass him back.

At the reminder, his eyes flare, and he punches my shoulder. “There’s nothing between Melissa and me.”

“You can lie to yourself all you want, man. But you two have it bad for each other. At some point, you guys need to stop fighting it. The flames between you two could give out third-degree burns. Anyone paying attention can see it.”

“Shut up about it, Marcus. The only thing I’m focused on is the club and getting my patch. I can’t let anything fuck that up. And screwing with the president’s daughter would definitely do that.” He walks away, shoulders slumped. I kind of feel sorry for him, but Romeo and Juliet didn’t end too well, and I don’t see these two ending much better.

“What was that all about? Who’s Melissa?” Brandy asks, also watching Billy make his way across the gravel lot.

“Melissa? She’s off limits for obvious reasons. But sparks fly when Billy and her are anywhere near each other.” I squat next to my bike. “She’s also a beautiful girl and could have just about any dude she wants as long as they have the balls to meet her daddy.”

“Why does her father care if she’s with Billy? Is he not a good guy?”

“Our president is a real papa bear when it comes to Melissa. It doesn’t matter who it is. Nobody will ever be good enough for her. And Billy’s the best. He’s club blood, too. Hey, hand me that lug wrench on the toolbox there, will ya?” I point behind her.

“Club blood?” She grabs the tool I need and passes it over.

“Yeah, Red Dog, one of the brothers, is his dad,” I reply, taking the first lug nut off, then the rest, and pop the tire free.

The low rumble of a distant bike carries to me, and I glance at the clock on the wall. Eight a.m. Who the hell would be rolling up this early? Bikers are known for partying all night and sleeping all day. The only ones who normally frequent the club in the morning hours are prospects, because we get the shit jobs.

Brandy glances over her shoulder toward the gate Billy is unlocking. Cole slows his bike and rolls through, nodding as he passes. He’s been so consumed with his role as President that he hasn’t been as observant as he usually seems to be. Melissa and Billy have stayed off his radar. But I’m pretty sure that ended yesterday.

“Speak of the Devil. That’s Cole now,” I tell Brandy as I roll the tire to the back wall and grab a new one from our stock.

Cole climbs off his bike and heads to the main door, glancing toward the open garage, but abruptly changes direction and heads my way. I stand, ready to carry out any orders he gives.

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