The men sit down at the island as I get us some beers out of the fridge. Once we all take a large pull, I stare at them. “Well, shit. Let me have it,” I mutter.
Knife looks at Rocky.
“You tell him,” Rocky says with an enormous sigh.
Knife clears his throat, clearly not wanting to give me the news, but pushing through. “Horse, man, I was right. Rebbie is working with those assholes. The crazy woman has it in her head I’ll take over the club if something happens to you. The three of them are going to meet tomorrow night at some damn club in Grover. We've got a lot on the tap, but we don’t feel it’s enough. Whatever we do, we need to make sure the proof is ironclad.I mean, there’s enough to hold them, but if you want them nailed to the wall, we’re thinking we should tape their meeting tomorrow.”
I look at my men with so many emotions hitting me it’s hard to name them all. Disgust and anger are the ruling ones, however. My attention moves to Rocky alone. “How are we going to tape them so we have a nail in every single one of their coffins? I don’t want to take a chance they’ll get off and then be breathing free air and my son left vulnerable.”
“That’s why we wanted to talk to you. I think we should get Detective Pratt in on this. I think we let him know what is going on so they can set up a sting operation. If they get it on tape, it will be part of their operation and totally okay. They can plant an undercover close by, and that will only strengthen the case against them,” Rocky answers.
I rub the back of my neck and nod my head. “I’ll call him now. You two stick around, and we’ll go into my office and call before I take Gwen out.”
“Sounds good,” they answer in unison.
The three of us head out of the kitchen. Gwen and Caleb aren’t in the living room, but I notice that Marshmallow isn’t on the mantle. They’re in the bedrooms cleaning up. I go to the hall and call out, “Gwen, honey? I need to make some calls in the office, but I’ll be back soon.”
“No worries,” she answers at once.
I lead my men into my office and close the door. Once we’re all settled, I look at them over my desk. “Is there anything else I need to know before I make this call?”
“Nah, brother,” Knife answers.
“You’re okay with what will happen to Rebbie?”
“You know where I stand on that,” he says. I stare at him and nod.
I hit the speakerphone button on the landline and dial Pratt’s private cell.
I hope to God this works. I need it taken care of. I don’t want Gwen freaking out, and I desperately need to make her and Caleb safe. I won’t let anything happen to either of them. If that bitch of an ex tries to make Gwen run away from me, I’ll kill the bitch with no remorse. I won’t let anything—or anyone—take Gwen away from me.Ever.
Silent Night & A Dinner From Hell
GWEN
Dinner at Wyatt’s house is supposed to be festive. Cozy. I was hoping for a Norman Rockwell evening with a side of baked ham. Instead, my brother-in-law sexually assaults me in the kitchen, gets verbally castrated by my biker boyfriend, and now I’m sitting at the dining room table—trying to pretend everything is normal—while my dog Buddy wears a Broken Kings MC T-shirt like it’s haute couture. He’s also rocking his steel-toothed collar. When Wyatt took me shopping the other night, he had fun making sure his dog was dressed less like a chick’s dog and more like the dog of the President of the Broken Kings MC. I’m going to have to get another dog and turn him into my puppy. It’s clear I’ve lost Buddy to Wyatt and Caleb.
As evidence of this, Buddy is currently planted at Wyatt’s right boot, chin on his paws, spiked collar gleaming like he’s ready to throw down if anyone looks at his dad wrong. I still think Wyatt is unhinged, but I keep that thought to myself. Buddy seems proud to show off the clothes his daddy bought him.
Besides, I have bigger issues—which have made me tense as hell. Wyatt hates my family. Not quietly. Not politely. He hates them with everything in him, and it’s definitely showing. Hell, Ican’t even blame him. I honestly understand. They’re at a new level of self-absorbed jerks tonight.
Then there’s the way my sister looks. Honestly, if my face looked like hers, I wouldn’t be stepping a foot out of my house. She looks terrifying. Her lips are so swollen they look like they belong on a parade float. Her bright red lipstick only makes it worse. Wyatt actually had to pull Caleb aside earlier and ask him—very gently—not to mention Aunt Cora’s mouth because children have no filter, and we were afraid of what he would say.
Caleb is at the kids’ table with Cora and Chip’s kids. They’re good kids. Polite. Sweet. Which has absolutely nothing to do with their parents and everything to do with the nanny who’s basically raised them.
My mom, Robin, is mentally on another planet. She’s smiling vaguely at nothing, sipping wine, probably thinking about crystals or the moon or whatever dimension she currently resides in. We’re almost done eating when the front door opens and a few of Wyatt’s men come marching in—obviously on a mission.
Rocky comes in first—huge, familiar, built like he was carved out of concrete and bad decisions. He gives me a nod, respectful and calm, like a guard dog who knows his job.
Behind him is Storm. I’ve heard stories. I was not prepared. Storm is tall and broad, with wild dark hair pulled back and eyes that miss absolutely nothing. He carries himself like a man should—wrapped in confidence, grin sharp, energy buzzing. The kind of man who looks like trouble but enjoys it. He scans the room—and then freezes on my sister.
“Holy shit,” he says loudly. “What happened to your mouth? It looks like your asshole is raw and got stuck on your face where your lips used to be.”
I choke on my water. I recover just in time to say very calmly, “Severe allergic reaction. She’s under medical care.”
Storm’s grin vanishes instantly. “Ah, shit. I’m sorry. Hope it gets better. If it doesn’t … maybe find a new doctor?”
Wyatt clears his throat and changes the subject before my family combusts—since Cora’s husbandisher doctor. “I don’t want to leave, sweetheart.”
