Page 17 of Property of Fang
“She ain’t going to bible camp,” I reply, slow and evenly paced.
“Then I’ll find friends who can have her.”
“And what? She sofa surfs until you get back from wherever the fuck you’re going? I don’t think so.”
“Give me. The money,” Reno snaps, losing patience.
“Why so angry, momma?” I taunt. “You need to buy another dress? Drugs? Got plans for another tattoo?” I huff a derisive laugh. “No money. Molly stays with me. It ain’t up for discussion.”
“Why? Because you say so? Everything’s always on your terms, isn’t it?” She snorts in contempt. “I’m fucking done with appeasing your changing moods, Fang. Pay for the bible camp or stay the fuck out of where I decide to put her.”
“No can do. I made you take her away from this place so that the life didn’t influence her, Reno. But you fucking teach her that tits and a cunt are all she needs to get by in the world anyway.She’s coming back here where at least I can control what she’s goddamn exposed to. I’m not having that transient shit for her.”
“You’re not having her at all!” The bitch disconnects, and I crush the fucking phone in my fist, sides biting into my fingers and palm.
“Fucking woman.” I toss the spent cigarette—wasted—into the yard and spin around to head indoors.
Wild, wavy black hair tucked behind one ear, her freckles are almost invisible in the low light.
“You weren’t supposed to hear all that,” I say.
She lifts her eyebrows, rolls her lips together, and then sets the plate with a grilled cheese down on the side table beside the porch chairs. “I figured. Just thought you might like something to eat.” Without another word, she leaves, disappearing back into the belly of my home and leaving me to feel as though I’m right where I should be.
On the outside.
SEVEN
JENNA
What.A fucking. Asshole.
The guy who offered to make us something to eat, Loki, was so damn genuine. So damn nice. He made me laugh when he burned his fingers twice, putting the grilled cheese in the pan. Relaxed my nerves and almost had me forget where I am.
In the goddamn Kings of Anarchy clubhouse.Shit.And then my mind wandered as I sliced perfect triangles out of the hot food. To the guy with movie star good looks and a mischievous twinkle in his eye who opened the door on our prison cell. I was so determined to get away, high on the adrenaline that had shot into my veins when we realized someone other than our keepers was there, that he caught me completely off-guard.
I shouldn’t think of him as the perfect mix of rugged and handsome. Shouldn’t wonder how silky soft his jet-black hair really is, or if it just looks that way. Shouldn’t be turned on by the snakebite piercings hugging his full lower lip.
Shouldn’t be imagining how he looks with a kid on his hip.
And I definitely shouldn’t have taken him a bite to eat like he’s my goddamn husband and I’m some kept housewife.
Jesus, Jenna.I’m here for a purpose even if that purpose does make me feel ill. Not myself.
Playing a role, just like the men I’ve despised most of my life.
“Damn it.” I run a hand through my hair, pushing the shorter strands off my face.
There’s a rumor that the president asked for the sheriff to be called to the house. Seems fucking weird if they’re one-percenters. But then again, they could be desperate to keep eyes off their business, and getting rid of our complication does that for them.
My gaze drifts over the walls of the expansive foyer. The farmhouse is seriously impressive; whoever built it must have had a small fortune back in the day. A central staircase leads up to an open walkway, linking the rooms on all three sides, with decoratively carved balustrades polished a deep mahogany. Intricate plasterwork decorates the ceiling; floral scrolls sweep toward the center where an impressive chandelier hangs two feet below.
The beauty of the house is in such contrast to the rough exterior.
With its occupants.
“Hey,” Darla calls softly from my left, exiting the parlor where the girls huddle together. “Wondered where you’d gone.”
“I needed some fresh air.”
