My blood pressure was starting to rise. I was no stranger to locker room talk, and had heard it all, but hearing these assholes refer to won like that was about to send over the goddamn edge.
"I’ve got my sights on little Miss Daisy," Hamr said.
I fisted my free hand at my side.
"Shit, Ham, the VP’s daughter? Are you high?" Grip hissed.
"No, but you gotta aim high if you want to reach that grade-A puss-A."
As my arm began to cock back, I had a split-second of clarity, kind of like when the little cartoon angel appears to remind our hero to do the right thing, but before tiny Saint Huck could get a word in, my fist had already connected with Hamr’s face.
"Whoa!" Grip exclaid as Hamr’s stiffened body hit the ground. "What the fuck, man?"
"Do you have sothing to say, or do you want to drag this asshole outta my sight?" I demanded.
"What the hell, Huck?" Buzz bellowed on his return. "I left for ten minutes and you’re punching out my recruits?"
I pointed to the ground. "There’s a couple of his teeth right there, you might want to pick them up. It’ll help the dentist with the implants." Buzz raised his hands and shook his head in confusion, and I tapped my jaw. "Hockey player, rember?"
"You gonna tell what the hell happened?"
"Y’all are thinking about having those two prospect for your club?"
Buzz frowned. "Yeah, why?"
"You might want to think again, unless you want the kind of guys who are willing to talk about the VP’s daughter like a piece of at."
"Aw, shit, they said sothin’ about Daisy?"
"I’m gonna go check on her and make sure she’s okay," I said, and walked inside.
I found Daisy and Teagan at the bar, six shot glasses upside down between them. Harm was serving and the girls looked like he’d been generous with his pours.
Daisy let out a quiet gasp and jumped off the barstool, a little wobbly, as she wrapped her arms around . "Hi, sexy."
"Hey, baby. You feeling good?"
"So, so good. Are you having fun?"
"Actually, I need to go. You coming with , or do you want to get a ride ho later?"
"What?" She raised her head to et my eyes and frowned. "Why do you need to leave?"
"Pretty sure I’m about to be kicked out."
"Uh... why?"
"Huck!" Hatch bellowed.
"Fuck," I hissed.
"What happened?" Daisy asked.
"In my office," Hatch growled. "Now."
"Shit." Daisy’s face went white. "What the hell?"
I stroked her cheek and followed Hatch down the hall, Daisy at my heels. Walking into Hatch’s office, he waved a hand toward a chair, which Daisy promptly sat in, but I chose to stay standing.
"What the fuck’s this business about you hittin’ one of my prospects?" Hatch demanded.
Before I could answer, Booker walked in and closed the door.
"This does not concern you, brother," Hatch said.
"Beg to differ, Hatch. Huck’s my guy, ergo, it concerns ."
I didn’t realize I’d beco Booker’s ’guy,’ but I decided not to ntion that at this juncture and crossed my arms, waiting for a further tongue lashing.
"You gonna answer my question?" Hatch asked.
"I’m not one to tell you how to handle your guys, Hatch, but when one of them makes inappropriate comnts about your daughter," I said, nodding toward Booker, "and my girlfriend, I’m gonna deal with it."
"I’m your girlfriend?" Daisy cooed. "That’s the first ti you’ve said that out loud."
Hatch shook his head. "You know, for a guy who has spent most of his life on a team, you sure don’t play very well with others."
"There’s a ti for playing and a ti for fighting," I pointed out. "Are you gonna stand there and act like your club doesn’t know the difference?"
"Of course, we do," Hatch said. "But I’m this team’s captain. And if you wanna make a play on my field, you run it by first. And if I’m not around, you run it by Assistant Coach Booker here, since he’s so eager for the fuckin’ job."
I shook my head. "But I’m not a mber of your club."
"Do you wanna be?"
Daisy let out a snort giggle and I raised an eyebrow in her direction.
"What? You can’t picture it?" I challenged.
She grimaced. "Not really."
I smirked, then focused on Hatch. "I still have surgeries to deal with, and my contract isn’t up with the team. I don’t know what the future holds with my hockey career, so I’m not sure how that’ll work with the club."
"We’ll work around it," Hatch said.
I’m wasn’t sure why the idea of prospecting was so instantly appealing. Maybe it was because I missed being on a team, or maybe it was because I knew that getting closer to the club ant getting closer to Daisy. Maybe it was all of that. All I knew was that the Dogs of Fire were a true pack and I needed to run with them.
I turned to Booker. "Is that your bike with the Panhead eighty-two-inch Long Block?"
"It’s one I’m restoring, yeah."
"Mind if I take her for a spin?"
Booker grinned. "Hell, yeah, we’ll get the boys and go for a ride."
Daisy gasped. "You can ride?"
"Since I was old enough to hold up my first dirt bike." I smiled.
"How co you never told you could ride?"
"First of all, you never asked. And second, I didn’t want you to think that I was just another asshole trying to get into your—" I cut off my sentence, considering the fact her uncle and her father were standing inches from . "Good graces."
"Do you ride much?" Booker asked.
"I’ve still got my motorcycle license, but hockey has always taken up most of my ti and my dad always said that ’those damn motorcycles’ would lead to my ruin."
Booker chuckled.
"Okay, so you know how to keep your mouth shut, how to ride, and how to land a punch. Can you shoot?" Hatch asked.
"Yeah, I can shoot."
"Well, we’ll head out to the range and see just how good you are this week, but in the anti, what do you say, prospect?" Hatch asked. "We still got the ass end of the sun stickin’ out. Wanna chase it?"
I grinned. "Let’s ride."
We filed out of Hatch’s office and headed out to the bikes.
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