Fuck.
My cock starts to wake at the sight of my wife looking all badass, and I will it the fuck down, because now’s not the fucking time.
A choking sound falls from Smitty’s lips, snapping me out of my Abbey daze, and I quickly scan the scene.
Spud, the club’s VP, who is Smitty’s lackey, is groaning on the floor like a little bitch, gripping his upper arm as blood spills over the concrete floor.
“You fucking cunt of a woman! You shot him!” Smitty jabs a finger in Abbey’s direction like no one fucking knows it was her, but my Angel doesn’t cower. She simply nods.
“You’re next, arsehole.”
And… there’s my cock. Fully fucking hard at the most inconvenient fucking time.
How am I meant to do this shit with a fucking hard-on?
“She shot one of us!” Spittle flies from Smitty’s mouth as he keeps stabbing the fucking air in my wife’s direction. “She broke our rules!”
“Oh, please.” Abbey rolls her eyes before refocusing her death stare on the club President. “I shotthroughhim. He was in my way.”
We all blink a little fucking dumbly until her words sink in, and then I glance across the space to the table where Pandawasstanding. Only he’s not standing anymore.
He’s flopped back in a chair, crimson blooming over his chest, soaking his white tee as he coughs up blood.
Fucking hell. Did she… mean to do that?
Who the fuck taught her that trick?
I instantly think of Riggs. That fucker and his closest men taught Abbey and my sisters some tricks of the trade. It wouldn’t surprise meif hedidteach her to shoot through someone else to hit a target behind them.
No one rushes to help Spud or Panda. The Doxies are all huddled together in the back corner, keeping their distance, and the men in the room are clearly fucking torn about who they should follow, given their confused expressions.
Fuck. This couldn’t have worked out more perfectly if I’d planned it.
I’ve been ordered by Ewan Marx to kill Smitty and replace him as President of the Southern Sadists, something I really didn’t want to fucking do until now.
Now, I know the fucking truth, and this fuckerneedsto die regardless of Ewan’s fucking order.
Slowly, I lower my gun, and Abbey’s gaze catches motion as I hand it to JD.
“What are you doing, man?” JD whispers, but I don’t answer him, my eyes locked on my wife as she frowns, clearly trying to figure out what I’m doing too.
Neither of us wanted this, but taking control of the club is the only way to ensure she is kept safe. She has Bobbi. Her sister. Her friends. She’ll learn to live without me. Fuck, she can live a normal life that doesn’t involve Harleys, cuts, and violence.
A happy life.
The life she deserves.
Her eyes glass over as her lids flutter, like she knows exactly what’s about to happen, and I wish we had more time to talk about this, but we don’t.
“Smitty!” I call, dragging my gaze from my beautiful wife to face the club President, rolling my shoulders back, and making my voice loud so everyone can hear. “I challenge you for the role of President.”
Gasps instantly fill the room as I quickly rake my gaze over the gathered crowd, spotting grins spreading across some of my club brothers’ faces, while others turn red in anger, and the remaining still look fucking confused.
The men who are grinning seem to be happy I’m doing this, and it makes me wonder if they’ve hoped for something like this to happen.
Smitty is a crazy motherfucker, and while he can be a wild ride, he can also be so fucking unpredictable that you never really know if he’s going to pat you on the back or shoot you.
It’s not a good way to live.
