Free BANE: A Devils' Due MC Romance Novel by Ora Wilde

defiantly.  “Whoever your enemies are, they won’t be targeting me.  They’ll be targeting you, and you’re actually putting me in danger by being with me.”
     
    What the fuck?!
     
    Where did this girl’s sudden spunk come from?
     
    She folded her arms over her bubbly breasts as she looked at me snappily.  She was waiting for a reply.  What kind of a fucking reply would I be able to give when I knew she was right?
     
    “‘Yer naivety’s gonna get us in trouble, kid,” I finally said.  “Yeah, ‘ya ain’t part of the club... but think about it and think about it hard. The Italians are pissed... really, really pissed.  They’ll lash out on us... and guess what?  They may wanna lash out on ‘ya, too. After all, ‘yer dad was the one who ratted us out, and in so doing, he brought down the entire Mid-Eastern operations of the Captoli family.”
     
    It was something I didn’t want to bring up.  The girl’s suffered enough, already.  Being labeled as a rat’s daughter and all that shit, being treated like a leper at the clubhouse, being forced to live as a prisoner in my room... those things were enough to scar her for life.  But I had no choice.  She didn’t want to come with me.  And she was displaying this goddamn rebellious streak that I didn’t deserve to endure.  Fuck!  That’s why I never wanted a teenaged daughter.  All the angst... all the drama... all the mood swings... they’d just drive me crazier than I already was.
     
    The contempt on her face disappeared, replaced by unmistakable unhappiness.  It wasn’t sadness, though.  It was something else... something deeper and more miserable.
     
    It seemed like she was lost.
     
    “Just get on the bike, kid,” I told her once more.  “Let’s get back to the clubhouse and I’ll accompany ‘ya straight to your room... which is really my room, but let’s not dwell on labels right now.  No one will treat ‘ya the way they treated ‘ya two nights ago when I was away.  I promise.”
     
    “Okay,” she said sullenly.
     
    I placed my lid on her head, and once again, it covered half of her pretty face.  She hopped on my chopper, holding on to the skirt of her dress to preserve her modesty.  I rode my bike, and immediately, she wrapped her arms around my waist.
     
    Her soft breasts pressed against my back, just like they did the night we took her away from Willowville.  Damn!  That had the same effect on me as it did back then. 
     
    She spoke once more, however, before I could even wrench my legs to stop my jeans from crunching my boner.
     
    “Are the Captolis the real reason why you’re here?” she whispered her question.
     
    “Eh?  What other reason could there be?” I asked her.
     
    “I... I don’t know.  Maybe you didn’t want me seeing Justin...”
     
    “Justin?!  Who in God’s green fuck is Justin?!”
     
    “The boy I was with at the coffee shop yesterday.”
     
    “Oh!  That motherfucking buttmunch who looks like a blonde Jack Efron?”
     
    She let out a laugh... a soft, gentle, meek laugh that just begged to be adored.
     
    “What’re ‘ya laughing at?” I wanted to know.
     
    “It’s Zac Efron,” she said, still giggling.
     
    “The fuck do I care about that?  At least ‘ya knew who I was referring to.”
     
    “Yeah, I did... but Zac Efron... he isn’t even a thing anymore...”
     
    “Really now?  Aren’t ‘ya teeny boppers supposed to go gaga at the mere mention of his name?”
     
    “No!” she disagreed resoundingly.  “Zac Efron’s like... old .”
     
    “He’s old?  Like how old?”
     
    “Twenty-eight, I think.”
     
    Jesus Christ!  If twenty-eight was old for her, what would she think about someone who’s past forty?
     
    Fuck!  Why was I even concerned about that shit?
     
    “Grah!” I grunted.  “So, he’s old and he’s no longer a thing.  Big fucking deal!  Let’s just split.  I’m not here to discuss about the crap ‘ya young girls