“I have to say it, Rage, you never stop surprising me. You let the woman who stole your brain and your dick go. Not in that order.”
And my heart, don’t forget my fucking heart. But no way I'm going to say that out loud... ever.
“The truth is, Sarah was going to risk it all anyway, and if I didn't help, her chances of survival would have been lower than they were. Sarah didn't stand a chance in that country by herself.”
“I know... well, I guess I need to find another place to work.” Carter stretches out his arms and starts to rise.
“Work, motherfucker? You've done nothing but make negative comments and really bad jokes since day one! Come to think of it, yes, go. I'll enjoy the peace and quiet when you're gone.”
I'm not going to tell him that the club voted in his favor in the matter of giving him a patch. I don't want to boost his ego. Not yet, anyway.
Knock-knock.
“Come on in.”
Vik enters with his stupid, beautiful hair floating like a slow-motion picture.
“Prez, are you okay? You got something in your eyes,” Vik says, and I quickly wipe my eyes with my hands, hiding the tears I didn't know existed.
“These are tears of joy; I can finally get rid of this idiot,” I quip.
“Hey! Come on. We had our moments, and I will always cherish them,” he says with a smug smile. “Besides, I don’t get to walk away like you. I still have shit to do, and it’s the worst kind.”
He’s not wrong. According to the data Bruno sent us, or rather, he sent to Carter, we know that Sarah will face her greatest challenge yet, the most difficult, for both her and Bruno.
“Prez, do you think I can ask him now?” Vik asks.
Fuck, I just want to enjoy this a little longer.
I let out a sigh. “Go ahead.”
“Ask me what?” Carter is visibly anxious and uneasy. “Are you going to propose to me? Is that why your hair looks so clean, Vik? If so, yes! Yes! And yes! I will marry your hair.”
Vik slaps Carter on the back, laughing hard and sits next to him. Carter mirrors his actions.
“Well, you helped us get rid of those motherfuckers, and showed you can hold yourself in a fight.”
“Okay…” Carter looks even more puzzled.
“Not only that, but you also saved the Prez’s life, and we all owe you a big one for that. That’s why we would like to welcome you as a brother.”
The idea has mainly been Viking's, but I have to admit, I’ve grown fond of pretty boy. Like one of those pugs, a horrible breed, yes, but for some reason, cute.
Carter seems to be the kind of man we need in our club. He has contacts, experience with other clubs, and street cred. Not to mention that a man with his skills can do no wrong. Of course, I'll never say this out loud.
Fuck him and his ego.
Carter gawks at me then a stupid smile grows on his face until he resembles the fucking Grinch.
“You want me in your fucking club?” His laugh is so loud it stuns my ears.
He throws himself on the floor and keeps laughing hysterically. Vik looks at him and can’t help but smile nervously. I have to fight a smile too; his stupid laughter is contagious.
Finally serious, he rises as if he hasn’t just laughed like a maniac. He straightens his clothes, combs his hair back with his hand, and clears his throat. “I'll think about it.” He approaches me to shake my hand and then Vik’s. “Gentlemen,” he says before leaving us.
This fucking guy.
Chapter Forty-Three
