Page 58 of Wanted By a King

“Glad you asked.” He sounds too fucking cheerful to be having this conversation. “I want the girl.”

Instantly I’m on my feet, my mouth opening to tell him no fucking way, but Rocco holds a stern finger up, silently telling me to remain quiet.

“Why do you want her?”

“Well, my friend. I want her for the same reason you do. All you have to do is hand her over, and we will walk away and leave you and your territory alone. If not, well, let’s just say, the war has only just begun.”

“You fucking—”

“Now, now. I’m a fair man. I’ll give you the night to think about. Talk with your men. Especially your VP. He seems to have formed an unhealthy attachment to the girl.”

And before we can say anything else, the Reaper President cuts the call.

“FUCK!” Rocco bellows, grabbing his glass and throwing it at the wall.

Fuck’s right. Rusty fucking Hunt just went to the top of my hit list.

“I’m still fucking confused,” Slayer mutters, a frown creasing his brow, slightly misplacing his eyepatch. “They already have our money, and all they want is the Miller girl and they will leave the area and their claim on our territory?”

“It doesn’t make sense.” Gunner agrees, turning his eyes back to Rocco who is now pacing at the end of the table.

Gunner knows about Zoe’s trust fund, so I have to assume he’s playing along here since the rest of our brothers don’t know.

“I say we accept their offer if they return our money.” Gunner suggests, and I see fucking red.

With an aggressive shake of my head, I shoot a look to Rocco, who has now stopped pacing and is looking at his fucking feet.

He can’t be considering this, surely?

“We aren’t trading the girl.” Rocco directs his response to everyone, but his eyes flick briefly to me, and I start to feel the tension begin to uncoil that had me ridged in my seat.

“What!?”

The question is asked in surprise by every other fucker sitting around the table, and I fucking glare at whoever dares to look at me.

“What are you talking about Prez? She’s nothing but a piece of ass. Surely our money means more.”

I bite the inside of my cheek at Slayer’s words, mentally reminding myself that I can’t fucking punch him without his twin brother taking me out a few fucking seconds later, even though he’s not in the room.

It’s a twin thing. Those two can sense each other and it’s fucking creepy sometimes.

Instead, I keep my hands busy by lighting up another fucking cigarette.

“You can’t be keeping her for Gray? Right?” Gunner asks, and I fucking tilt my head as I shoot my friend a death glare.

“Why not?” Rocco shrugs. “He’s claimed her as his. Hell, they’ve come back practically married, what with the way they’ve been acting.”

“You can’t be serious?” Gunner hisses, sitting forward in his seat, his hands balling into fists on the tabletop. “You’re gonna choose a bratty cunt over money to feed the fucking club and an end to this war?”

I’m standing in an instant, leaping up onto the table before crashing into my club brother. Gunner’s chair falls back hard, the wind flying from him audibly as I fist his cut and bare my teeth in his face with a growl.

“That’s enough, Gray!”

The roar from Rocco is barely enough to stop my attack, but I allow the strong hands to pull me off him, Slayer muttering in my ear.

“Calm down, man. Calm down.”

I wrestle my way out of his grip, ignoring the bite of pain in my shoulder as I snarl at him too, feeling like all of a sudden, they’re all fucking against me. Even Rocco.

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