Page 1 of Under Kid’s Protection

1

Colt “Baby Boy” Oberlin

Six Years Ago

The tequila Baby Boy had swallowed burned his throat as he licked the salt off the fleshy skin between his thumb and forefinger. With a shudder, he shook out his limbs. He threw his head back and let out a loud hoot while his official club brother and lifelong best friend, Hitman, slapped him between the shoulder blades in congratulations.

Hitman’s fingers dug into his shoulders as he rocked Baby Boy. “Happy birthday, brother!”

“Wait.” The topless woman chopping lines of cocaine on the counter peered at them. “I thought it was a patch party.”

Hitman hooked his arm around Baby Boy’s neck and tugged him closer, nearly knocking Baby Boy off-balance. He fell into his friend, chuckling.

“It’s both,” Baby Boy admitted as he studied the woman with the small breasts and the bloodshot eyes.

“How cool.” She shrugged before turning her attention back to her task. “Then I guess you should definitely be the first to sample the party favors.”

Furrowing his brow, Kid waved a hand. “Leaving for a run in the morning.”

Glancing upward, she pouted her disappointment while offering him a rolled-up twenty-dollar bill.

He shook his head. “I prefer to be straight when I ride.”

Hitman burst out in a laugh. “You’re drunk as hell right now.”

Baby Boy eyed his friend and wriggled out of his affectionate hold. While Baby Boy might not be completely sober, he wasn’t nearly as hammered as Hitman. Surfing a good buzz was a far cry from shit-faced.

“Well, if you’re not going to,” Hitman said as he stepped closer to the woman and the cocaine. “Don’t mind if I do.”

He took the bill from her hand, dipped his head toward the counter, and snorted a fat line while she squealed in delight.

Inhaling deeply, Baby Boy flicked his attention to the raucous celebration that filled the Roughneck Riders clubhouse. “Popular Monster” by Falling in Reverse boomed through the speakers. People in various stages of undress and sexual acts decorated the main room. Baby Boy’s father wasn’t good at many things, but throwing one hell of a party was one of them.

Pinching his nose and sniffling wildly, Hitman turned to face Baby Boy. “Hey, let me talk to you.”

Weren’t they doing that already? Baby Boy nodded, grabbed his beer bottle, took a swig, and followed his friend to the kitchen behind the bar. As the door swung closed, it muffled the music and chatter of the people gathered in the main room.

The cries of a naked woman perched on the counter with her legs parted wide drew their attention. Kneeling between her thighs with his face buried in the house mouse’s cunt was Baby Boy’s biological brother, feasting to his heart’s content.

“Get it!” Hitman cheered before gesturing to Baby Boy to go deeper into the kitchen and away from the couple enjoying themselves.

Hitman took a seat at the small table with Baby Boy occupying the chair opposite him. The joy from a moment ago had left his friend’s face. His gaze fixed on a spot on the table as he sat in silence.

Baby Boy glanced around. The hair on the back of his neck stood up as the air charged with anticipation. Something heavy was about to happen. Was his friend about to admit some wrongdoing?

Baby Boy wasn’t sure he could handle that.

Sure, he was the son of the president and freshly eighteen, but being raised in the club didn’t make him a member until the vote gave him the patch. Which happened two hours ago. He was in no position to be tackling club politics. He wasn’t even an officer. The two of them were the same rank.

Hitman licked his bottom lip and nodded to himself.

What the hell was going on?

Baby Boy took another hearty swig of his beer, bracing himself for whatever his friend was about to say.

“I’ll watch out for your sister,” Hitman declared out of nowhere.

Baby Boy cocked his head to the side and blinked repeatedly. Why would he say that? Where was this coming from?