I made peace in that moment that if this scary man raised this gun to shoot me, I would have died happy with my decision to being here.
“Who do you belong to?” he questioned then.
“What?”
“What biker?”
“I don’t—”
“Girl like you belongs to someone,” he cut in, prodding again, “Who do you belong to?”
“Hunter.”
Now his face came alive as his lips formed a smirk. “Ah,” he whispered. “The savage.”
I tried so hard not to shake because that gun was pointed right at me. I kept my eyes on his.
“The Dandelion with a savage…and a prince.”
My brows came together.
He leaned forward slightly, whispering now, “You’re tasting both sides of the conflict, aren’t you? Dark cock on one hand, and then a gentleman—” he paused, chuckling. “Fuck, that other man is a gentleman. Perfectly contained specimen, suppressing all that fucking emotion. If I’m being honest, that gentleman troubles me the most.”
My face heated as he talked about Leo like he knew him.
And did he?
Well, he couldn’t have truly known him because Leo was not breakable. I felt no urge to speak my mind. I knew this man—amused now as he watched me closely—sought a response. I wouldn’t give one.
“Quit hassling the girl, Abram,” a voice suddenly growled.Miles.
My vision was spotty as I turned to look at him prowling into the room with a frown. His eyes were hard on the suited man—Abram. I never felt relief at the presence of Miles, but right now, when it was just this scary man holding that gun, I felt it more than ever.
Miles looked in a state. His leathers were covered in dirt, his dark hair was in disarray, the bun loose. There was blood spatter on his face, too, and his expression was filled with hostility, like Abram was a predator that had encroached on his territory.
Abram smiled. “Miles.”
Miles stopped in front of him, gauging the situation. He glanced at me fleetingly before returning his cold stare at Abram. “Were you expected?”
“A man like me doesn’t have to wait for an audience with your President.”
Miles pointed at the gun. “Don’t give a fuck if you’re here for Bull, but what I give a fuck about is you holding a fucking gun in our clubhouse, and you’re aiming it at one of our women. If she was an Old Lady, that would be a fucking death sentence, Abram.”
Abram’s response startled me. Hechuckled. “If it was a functioning gun, I’d say you had a point.”
“What’s wrong with the gun?”
Now Abram’s face went colder than death. “It doesn’t fucking work, is what I just said. You fellas sold us a crateful of fuckingpiss.”
He slammed the gun down, making me jump. His hand was loaded with tattoos and deep scars. He let go of the gun, leaving it sitting there on the counter as he peered intently at Miles. “Your President has some explaining to do.”
Miles glared at him for several moments, his face loaded with anger. Then he sniffed and stepped back. “I’ll take you to him.”
“Now.”
“Yeah, now.” Now Miles looked around, asking, “Where are your men?”
“I came alone.”