“I don’t know, Angel. But from here on out, everyone is a suspect.”
Her brows shoot up. “Even JD? Jols?”
I nod. “Yep.”
“Your ma? Your sisters?”
I shake my head. “I highly doubt it’s them. In fact, I’d be willing to bet my life on that.”
“Are you prepared for the fact it could be one of your club brothers?” Devon asks from his lazy slouch in his chair, and I turn my attention to the dark-haired man that most know as the Devil.
Devon Marx is one man you don’t want coming for you in the dead of night.
“I’m prepared that it could be anyone.” I nod, and Griffin bobs his head beside his cousin.
“I’m prepared it could be one of my men too,” he states, his jaw ticking. “Even if we go right back to the day the warehouses were messed with. The common denominator here is Marx men and Southern Sadists. Too much has happened for it to just be a coincidence.”
Griff is fucking right, and it sits like a lead fucking weight in my gut that one or more of my men may have had a hand in it. Which is exactly why we are here. Why I’m not involving my club and going outside it once again to figure out what the fuck is going on.
Abbey and I return to our seats, and for the next couple of hours we discuss possible moles and scenarios, and how the fuck we can weed out the snitch.
By the time we are done, Abbey is yawning, exhausted from only getting a couple of hours sleep before I woke her, so we finish up, and I lead her back out to the car, where she says a quick goodbye to her friends, and slides sleepily inside.
“Do you want me to return with you?” Riggs asks once I close Abbey in, and I take in the guy who has done nothing but protect us because that’s what he’s been ordered to do.
“Yes. I trust you. And she does, too.” I gesture to the back seat, and Riggs nods.
“I’ll do what was discussed tonight. Everyone is a suspect from now on. Even my closest men.”
Sighing, I clap my hand on his shoulder. “Me too. It guts me to think my brothers might have been in on this shit from the beginning. Whoever it is will wish they were never fucking born by the end of this.”
Riggs grunts in agreement, and I step back, rounding the car as Riggs slips into the driver’s seat.
Abbey nuzzles into my neck as we drive through the quiet streets of Redfield, and as soon as Riggs puts the radio on, the cabin filling with the soft hum of music, my Angel shifts to press her lips to my ear.
“The things that were in those private rooms,” Abbey whispers against my ear, “have you used things like that before?”
I smirk into the darkness, my gaze flicking to Riggs in the front, his concentration focused on the road.
“Some of them,” I respond in a low, quiet voice.
“The cuffs and chains, or whatever they were?” Her breath warms my ear as she whispers against it.
“Yes, Angel.”
“Do you… like that?” she breathes, and I wish I could shift back and see her face properly. I bet there’s an embarrassed blush tinting her cheeks.
“I enjoyed it at the time,” I admit honestly, and she stiffens a little.
I don’t know if it’s because my admission involved the use of BDSM instruments, or if she’s remembering times similar things were used against her.
“Do you… want to do that to me?”
There’s a slight squeak in her quiet whisper that has my lips lifting at the reminder of her inexperience. She doesn’t sound mortified at the idea of it, so I have to assume she’s just innocently curious.
Shifting closer, I press my lips to her ear this time.
“Maybe one day, when all of this is over, we can explore some of the instruments used in BDSM. Once you’ve had time to heal, Angel. You’ve endured so much. We have plenty of time to try things. See what you like and don’t like, together.”
