“Listen, brothers, I’ll understand if you aren’t behind me on this because it’s my fuck-up. Shit, I’ve lost the only thing I’ve ever loved through my own moronic actions. But Hell needs us right now.” I pause, taking a calming breath. “Reaper has her.” Ilet that settle amongst us, noting the angry expressions on their faces.Shit.They love her too. She’s one of us. “He’s demanded the New Parks Estate and West Street in return for her.” I pinch the bridge of my nose before adding, “And I’m going to give it to him.”
My announcement is met with gasps.
“Wait, Pres. What do you mean you’re going to give it to him?” Rock demands. “Just like that?”
“I’ll do anything for her, Rock.”
Joker shrugs. “Let’s just go in there and shoot the place up.”
“She’s carrying my kid,” I snap. “What if she gets caught in the crossfire? I’ve already fucked up enough in the last twenty-four hours. I won’t put her at risk any more than I already have.”
“She’s pregnant?” Gears asks, his mouth half-open in shock.
I nod, pain twisting in my chest.
“Congrats, Pres. You’re gonna be a dad.”
“Yeah, well, let’s not celebrate just yet. I’ve already let them both down,” I mutter.
Clay’s chair scrapes the floor as he rises to his feet. “We’re behind you, Pres. Whatever it takes to get her back, we’ll worry about the rest later.”
I nod, banging the gavel on the table to end church. At least with the men behind me, I’m a little closer to getting Hell back where she belongs.
ROCHELLE
My hands are bound tight behind my back, and the rope bites into my wrists. The old wooden chair I’m on groans every time I shift. My ankles are tied to the legs, circulation fading to pins and needles.
One of Reaper’s goons stands guard a few feet away, arms folded, his back to me like I’m nothing more than an irritation.
I whistle to grab his attention, and he slowly turns, raising his brows.
“I need to pee,” I say, squirming against the restraints some more.
“No chance,” he grunts.
I scoff. “You’re really going to let a lady piss herself?” I tug harder at the ropes, but they don’t budge. There’s no give.
I test the balance carefully, rocking ever so slightly.
The chair creaks in protest.
If I throw my weight hard enough, it might splinter. But if it goes wrong . . .
My stomach tightens. Can I break it without breaking myself? Without hurting the baby?
I shift again, exaggerating the movement, and the chair screeches loudly across the concrete.
The goon stalks towards me, irritation rolling off him.
“Will you keep fucking still?”
“I told you,” I mutter, wriggling again to bring feeling back into my legs, “a girl needs to piss.”
He exhales sharply and crouches to untie my ankles. The rope loosens, and I rotate my feet, welcoming the small slice of freedom.
He grabs me by the top of my arm, his fingers digging into my skin, and yanks me upright.
“Ouch,” I snap. “I bruise like a peach. Watch what you’re fucking doing.”
