Staking Her Claim...: Book 1 in the Patricks' Brothers series (3 page)

“Shut the hell up asshole,” Brandt says gruffly. “How ‘bout we focus on why the fuck we’re here to begin with instead of, Giselle.”

“Sure,” Landen agrees cheerfully. Facing me, Landen takes the opportunity to start the Intervention of Doom. That’s what I’m renaming this little pow-wow by the way. Fitting isn’t it? Turning to me, Landen waves his hand between Brookes and Brandt, saying, “Those two want you to take a leave of absence, Aly.”

“Fuck you, Landen,” Brandt snarls. “That isn’t how we decided we’d play this.” Landen doesn’t acknowledge he’s heard him, but from the flush of anger coloring his neck, I’d say Brandt hit the nail on the head; this isn’t what they’d agreed on.

Watching my eyes narrow dangerously, Jett jumps in playing his usual role of peacemaker.

“Not like you think, Aly. We don’t mean that you need to take an extended vacation, like say, in the Bahama’s surrounded by hot chicks in bikinis so I could come babysit you or anything like that.” Ha-ha, funny guy. Not. “More like taking on just one case, a case close to home for the time being. Until you’re completely healed, that is.”

As I go to speak, Finn slaps his palm on the table and adds,

“I saw you, Aly. I saw you lying in a fucking hospital bed again. A-fucking-gain. Not something I wanted to remember let alone relive in this lifetime, or the next.” I suck in a harsh breath, but I don’t interrupt him. “We wanna see you get old and wrinkly and shit. Fuck, I wouldn’t mind if you made me an Uncle one day soon too. What we don’t wanna see is you get yourself killed.”

“He’s right, Cupcake. Took ten years off my life walking into that room and seeing you like that. You’re our glue honey, you know that. You’re the one that’s kept us all in the one place. Shit, we started this place because you wanted us all together. You keep our shit locked down when we need it. You’re the one we
all
come to when we’re messed up and need advice. And you’re the one we’re gonna keep safe until the end of time. You have to know we’re gonna do that. However, we have to, and we’re gonna do it whether you like it or not.”

Brookes might not be wrong in his summation of my sisterly duties, but where he’s wrong is when he says I don’t have a choice in the matter.

“I love you, all of you,” I say as sincerely as I can. Because I do. I love them all to pieces. “But you’ve got less chance than a hooker does of staying disease free if you think you’ll be able to lock me down to protect me. If I don’t agree to what you’re proposing, I’m more than capable of finding a way out of whatever intended seclusion you’ve got in mind for me, and you know it.”

Eyeing the serious yet albeit slightly amused faces around the table, I land on one that is not mirroring the others. No, what I see on his face makes me freeze solid and reconsider my hasty decision to disagree with the Neanderthals who think they’ve got the right to run my life as they see.

Not that I will reconsider that is, because I’m not one to back-peddle when I’ve made up my mind about something. So perhaps it’s better to put it this way; I would have pondered my quick decision while simultaneously plotting my brothers demise, and ended up sticking with my original choice regardless of the consequences. 

However, that’s not to say that Rob’s current facial expression isn’t the closest thing to fury I’ve seen in forever because it is. And it was enough to make me pause before ignoring him and attempting to block the anger I saw simmering there from my mind.

The last time I saw a face that looks like his directed at me was the day I broke up with my long-term boyfriend, Peter. Needless to say, he wasn’t keen on our separation. His words, not mine. My words were more along the lines of permanent removal of a lecherous douchebag. Tomatoes, tom-ah-toes to some, but a crucial distinction to me.

Granted, Peter, in his infinite stupidity didn’t see the breakup coming. I say in his stupidity, because when you’re caught banging your secretary on your girlfriend’s couch, you tend to assume you’re going to get the old heave-ho. But no, not Peter. He thought I’d either join in. Can you say, fuck no? Because not only is that repulsive, but it was never going to happen.

The sad fact is, Peter actually thought I’d forgive him and things would go on as per normal. Again, can you say, fuck no? There was no coming back from that. I do have some self-respect.

Anyway, in the grand scheme of things the look he gave me when I physically assisted him in removing his nasty ass from my property was one very similar to the one I’m receiving from Rob now.

“Are you fucking stupid?”

Ah, excuse me! He did not just say that, did he?

“No really, unlike Harper I actually want a fucking answer, Alysia. Are you fucking stupid?” Shaking his head angrily, Rob places both his hands on the table and leans forward menacingly. Or it would be menacing if he actually scared me, which he doesn’t so I chose to consider it a dickhead move rather than something to be wary of.

“I didn’t take you for a fucking idiot after everything I’ve learned about you in the past few weeks, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe you’re just hiding all that stupid under a cloak of intelligence. Pity you lost that fucking mask with your last statement though Sweetness because I’ve gotta say, you were doing a whole hell of a lot better with it than without.”

Nice. Remember what I said about not being dramatic? Yeah, well that shit just went and flew right out the window now didn’t it?

“Wow,” I snap. “I didn’t know we were in the business of hiring people that clearly have drug problems, Brookes. Because there’s no doubt in my mind that you have to be fucking high if you think I’m going to let you get away with making judgment calls about my level of intelligence. Especially in light of your recent situation? One in which I bailed your ass out of if you’d forgotten already.”

At this point, Brookes makes the only play he has left open to him, shy of locking us both in separate rooms for the foreseeable future that is.

“Children, enough.” His voice booms echoing through the room, making Harper jump at his tone.

“Fuck you, Brookes. And fuck you too, Robert,” I growl slamming out of my chair. Looking around the room, I see that Landen, Jett, and Adrian have looks of sympathy on their faces but aren’t intending on doing anything to defend me. That would be right.

“As I said, I get that you were scared, angry, pissed, or whatever about me being shot, and let me assure you I know how you feel. Because in case you’ve all forgotten it was me that was fucking shot. Not you, not him, and not Harper, me. I love you all, and I understand that you think me staying closer to home will help to mitigate whatever risks you think are out there and that you’ll be able to keep a better eye on me, but that’s where you’re all wrong,” I spit. “Texas has more gun owners than half of the rest of the country put together, and plenty of assholes carrying them. I’m no more safe here than anywhere else, and if you’re all going to follow through with the hugely misguided idea of locking me up, I’m going to hang with Jonas for a while.”

“No, you’re fucking not, Cupcake,” Brookes snarls.

Raising an eyebrow at him in question, I ask,

“Ah, and why not?”

Not that I really need an answer to that, because I already know what he’s going to say hence mentioning it in the first place, but it does give me a small measure of happiness that I’ve pissed Brookes off as much as he has me.

Jonas Williams is the owner of Wicked Skin Tattoos in, Furnace, Colorado, and a stunning specimen of male perfection. We had a brief on again, off again affair that lasted three years, ending amicably two years ago, and we’ve remained close friends ever since.

Brookes’ dislike for Jonas doesn’t come from our failed non-relationship, I say non-relationship because we were fuck buddies nothing more. No, Brookes doesn’t get along with Jonas because they were both in the same Army Rangers unit and something went down back then that have had them at each other’s throats ever since. I’ve got no idea what, neither of them would give me a straight answer, but whatever it was had to have been big for them to despise each other the way they do.

Glaring at me, Brookes searches my face to see if I'm serious. Whatever he sees there has that proverbial smoke coming from his ears again.

“Because he’s a fucking asshole and you promised me you were done with him. That my dear sister is why you’re not going out into the middle of bum-fuck nowhere to stay with that jackass. Add to that all the shit that’s going down between Vengeance MC and Hell’s Riders at the minute it’s not fucking safe up there either, which I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough.”

Interesting, I muse, and he’s not wrong. I wasn’t aware, Boss, the President of Vengeance MC, was having issues with a rival club at the moment. Making note to dig into that a little later on, I scoff,

“You’re aware I spent just as long in our country’s military as you right? You get that I’m not some simpering female that needs a man to hold her hand and wipe her tears away when she gets a splinter don’t you?”

I don’t know why I’m feeling the need to provoke him, but the only reason I can come up with is because I’m done. I’m sick of being looked at like I’m less capable than they are, especially when I could put two of them on their asses before they’d be able to lay a hand on me. I’m done with the double standards they impose when they think it’s necessary for my protection. I’m just done period, and it’s about time they knew it.

Before I can tell them as much, Rob speaks again and it has me wanting to hit him for the third time today, at least.

“You got something going on with some guy cross country, Alysia? Well, where the fuck was this asshole when you were getting shot? If he means that much to you, I would’ve thought he’d have at least made an appearance at your bedside once in the time you were laid up. Seeing as he didn’t maybe, it’s time to reassess your relationship, don’t you think?”

Oh no, he did not just go there. Not only does Rob not have a clue about the nature of my relationship with Jonas, but who the hell does he think he is asking me shit like that when he was present during the whole getting a new hole blown in my body saga? It’s not as if he was the one who stepped in front of the bullet for me, so who is he to judge?

Groans echo around the table followed by a ‘Fuck me drunk in a trunk’ from Harper.

“What did you just say to me,” I ask, in a surprisingly calm and measured voice.

“You fucking heard me. Where was this prick you were seeing when you were shot and recovering in the damn hospital? I’d think if he was any sort of man he’d have been by your side, Alysia. Shows what kind of taste you’ve got in men, and that it hasn’t gotten any better since the last dickhead. What was his name? Peter?”

“Rob,” Jett pleads standing up. “You don’t wanna go there, Man, you really fucking don’t. You have no idea the shit storm you’re stirring up.”

“Yeah, I really do, Jett. I wanna know what she’s thinking in that head of hers that makes her believe running off to the middle of nowhere, in the midst of a biker war is a good fucking idea. You have to be suffering from some kind of traumatic brain injury or just plain stupid to think that’ll end well, and I wanna know which one she is.”

“Jesus, Rob, leave it the fuck alone. She knows what she’s doing and if there’s anyone I trust to make the right decision about her personal safety it’s, Aly,” Landen reasons. “Just quit while you’re ahead, Buddy because if you don’t she’s going to kick your ass and there will be nothing we can do to stop her.”

I wish I could say his belief in me calms me down, but it doesn’t. So with no avenues left open to me I decide it’s in everyone’s best interests to shut this conversation down ASAP. In hindsight, I could have chosen a better way to do this, but what can I say? I’m a pissed off woman, so he gets what I think he deserves even if it is more to do with my anger than how much his words have upset me.

Leaning on my hands which are braced palms down on the table in front of me, I speak quietly and clearly, but loudly enough to ensure he hears every word.

“Peter is not a topic of conversation that is or ever will be up for discussion, Robert. Not with you, and not with anyone else. Jonas is also none of your fucking business, but I will say this; he is more of a man than you can ever hope to be. He doesn’t run from his problems, and he doesn’t desert the people who care about him never to be heard from again except for when they need something from them more than a decade and a half later. Jonas has never disrespected me the way you have, he wouldn’t even consider it. And more importantly, he isn’t a fucking douchebag that thinks he has any right to walk back into someone’s life after fifteen years and dictate what she should do in
any
situation. You had your chance to play a part in my life and you chose to leave, and never look back. There was a time I would have fought for the opportunity to have you in my life, I would have given my soul to see you happy and settled, but that shipped sailed in the night a long time ago with you on it. Now you’re back, and while these assholes might want you here, I don’t. I am not your emotional dumping ground anymore, and I never will be again.”