ONE
Genevieve
“Genevieve!”
My brother, Jaeger, strides toward me, his black, wavy hair swaying in the breeze, and his near-black eyes aflame with anger. His leather vest looks freshly oiled as it reflects the sun’s rays, and his ripped jeans are dusty, telling me he just got in from a ride. My breath gets trapped in my chest as his tattooed hands curl into fists.
Shit, he’s pissed.
“Where were you today?”
He stops right in front of me, his chest heaving with labored breaths, and his leather cut sporting a new patch. Vice President.
“Mall,” I answer quickly, my eyes never wavering from that patch.
“Try again.”
No way. There’s no way he knows. We were careful.
“Jaeger…”
“Genevieve…” He steps in closer, his chest now touching mine. “I called you ten times. Do you know who else I tried to call?” Our eyes finally meet in a clash of indigo and ebony. This is it. “Quinton.” My brows crash together in confusion as my head tips to the side. He must’ve been on the road for a long-ass time because he’s making no fucking sense. What the fuck is he talking about? “Were you out with Quinton?”
“Quinton?” Surprise courses through me, making me rear back my head. “Why would I be with Quinton? He hates me.”
Quinton is Jaeger’s best friend, his lap dog who would do anything he asked, and a jerk to top it all off. The fact that Jaeger even thinks Quinton and I speak is outrageous. He has his head so far up Jaeger’s ass, he wouldn’t dare spare me the time of day.
“You’ve been caught.” His long finger points at my face. “I can see the fucking fear.”
“Fear?” I push him back with my hands on his chest. “Are you insane? That’s disgust you’re seeing. Quinton is an asshole.”
“I see the way you look at each other, and I warned you, Genni. No fucking my boys.”
Now it’s my turn to step up to him, our chests bumping once again. Jaeger is tall, at six and a half feet, but I’m tall too, standing at nearly six feet.
“Watch your fucking mouth, Jaeger. No one tells me who I can and can’t fuck. If I wanted to hump every cock in town, I’d do it.” I stand my ground, uncaring if the neighbors see me and my brother fighting in our driveway.
His face turns an abnormal shade of purple as anger burns through his eyes. His lips pull back taut against his teeth as he prepares to douse my flames with accelerant. Playing with fire has always been a hobby of his.
“Kids,” Dad’s deep drawl sounds from the side of the house. “Knock it off and get inside. Your mother needs help with dinner.”
Jaeger’s hand grips my chin as he yanks my face closer to his. “You’re fixing for a fight, Genni.” His spit flies on my cheeks as he speaks the words. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”
He lets me go with a sharp shove, making me stumble backward, my ass hitting Ma’s car. My body vibrates with anger, each muscle stiffening as I contemplate knocking him the fuck out, but I need to bury it down because Ma’s anxiety will kick in the moment she realizes we’re fighting.
“Genevieve,” Dad calls out, coaxing the flames of my anger. Jealousy burns inside of me because he made Jaeger Vice President. “Come here.”
My feet obey before my mind registers, because no one says no to Victor Varga, President of the Steel Dragons Motorcycle Club. I may have a filthy mouth on me, and more times than not, it lands me in hot water, but I have a will to live, and mouthing off to Vic is a sure way to end up six feet under. Daughter or not.
I find my father leaning against the side of the house, a cigarette hanging from his lips, and a black bandanna wrapped around his long, graying hair, though the ends are still a dark brunette, much like my own. His long legs are crossed at the ankles, and his muscular arms are crossed over his chest.
The leather cut hanging from his shoulders is worn with spots of faded black decorating the edges. He’s had this cut since he was a prospect, and the day it leaves his shoulders will be when it’s folded inside his coffin or hung up in retirement. His skin is dark and weathered from long days on his bike in the Arizona sun, and lately, his face has been gaunt. He’s looking old.
“Let him believe you were out with the Chino kid. It’s better that way.” He takes a long drag of his cigarette, exhaling the smoke in circular plumes, and his eyes stay focused on the grass at his feet.
“You made him Vice.” My hands land on my hips and I can’t control the whiney tone of my voice.
“He’s my only son.” His shoulder tips, his answer pissing me off.
“Jaeger is not your blood.” My chest is still tight with anger, and the words fly out of my mouth before I can stop them. We don’t speak of blood in this house. We’ve been raised to be full siblings. Jaeger is my brother, nothing less.
He drops his cigarette and crushes the butt with the tip of his boot, only to reach into the pocket of his cut to light another one.
“I adopted him when he was ten years old, Genevieve. He’s my son.” I watch as he takes another long drag of the cigarette, his words sounding slightly exasperated. “What would you have me do?”
“Those are going to kill you,” I snap.
“Your mother said it would be a bullet to my head.” He chuckles as if he just told me a fucking joke. “I believe her predictions.”
He means my birth mother. She died when I was three from ovarian cancer. Fuck cancer.
“What was the point of our talk today if you went and made him Vice?” I fall against the wall beside him with a sigh. I’m confused, irritated, and still cresting the high of fighting with my asshole brother, but everything we did today is making less sense. I was told I would be the most prominent figure in the MC when the time came. I watch him as he continues to smoke his cigarette.
I thought Dad meant Vice. I was sure he wanted me to be the one to stand next to him. Minutes pass by before he speaks again and what he says shocks me to my core.
“Because you will be Prez.”
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Being the only daughter of a motorcycle club’s president means I’m untouchable.
Add an older brother to that equation,
and now you’ve got an impenetrable vault.
No one can get to me.
The Varga name has given me armor along with an invincibility complex.
Until it’s all shattered.
I’m faced with an impossible situation,
and no matter how it ends, there will be casualties.
I’ve been dodging threats my whole life,
but what no one prepared me for was the threat of my own family.
Betrayal burns deep when it comes from inside the safety of your own home.
Too many lines have been crossed, and forgiveness isn’t an option.
It’s an all-out war, and I’m on the front lines.
I am the Dragon Slayer.
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