“I love you,” he whispers against my lips. “So goddamn much.”
22
HAVOC
Iswing my leg over my bike, dismounting with a smooth motion I’ve perfected over the years. Next to me, Diesel leans against the side of his ride, his ass half in the seat. His arms are crossed at the chest, and the look on his face lets me know he’s wary as fuck. I’m not exactly comfortable either.
My gut tells me Bishop had nothing to do with Viking’s death and the attempt on my old lady. But with volatile situations like this, you never know when shit’s gonna hit the fan.
“You sure about this, Prez?” Diesel asks carefully.
I grunt. “Yeah. The guys know what to do if it goes sideways.”
I really fucking hope it doesn’t go sideways, though. I want to get back to Sasha.
The clubhouse is on lockdown until we send the all-clear. The prospects, Tank, Bone, Viper, Stray, and Reaper are keeping our families safe. Riot, Ace, Ryder, Trigger, Preacher, Gunner, and Bullet are waiting a couple of miles back, ready to join Diesel and me if needed.
“Here they come,” Diesel murmurs at the sound of approaching bikes from behind the bend. We’re between BriarFork and Ashford, and if Bishop honors the agreement, it should be just Rook and him coming now.
Two headlights wash over us as they take the turn, not quite blinding me as the sky is still a light indigo and not fully black. Bishop and Rook dismount and stride closer. The Forsaken King’s president stretches out his hand, and I hesitate. So much blood had been spilled on both sides. The grudge runs deep. But there’s only one direction we can ride in now—forward.
I reach out and slap my hand against his. “Bishop.”
“Havoc,” he replies, then nods at my VP. “Diesel.”
Rook shakes my hand after his Prez steps aside. “We’ve been talking,” he says, nodding at Bishop.
“Good,” Diesel drawls. “Because there’s been so much bullshit, the whole county is stinking of it.”
Bishop nods, crossing his arms over his chest. “So, it’s my understanding you sent prospects to Lucky’s to listen to chatter because you believed we had something to do with Viking’s death?”
Straight to the point, I guess. In other circumstances, I might actually like this man.
I slowly blow air out of my nose. “And I’m guessing you wouldn’t be here if you did?”
“We heard about it,” Bishop says. “Thought it was business gone wrong.”
“It’s been over twelve years since Grim died,” Rook adds. “We lost our Prez, your Prez lost his wife.”
Bishop takes over again. “I know we haven’t been drinking buddies since, but as far as we were concerned, it was done.”
“We thought so too,” Diesel says, his stance relaxing—he sees what I saw when I looked at Bishop’s face. He’s my VP for a reason, after all. His powers of observation have a lot to do with that.
Rook raises an eyebrow. “So, are you gonna tell us what exactly happened to change that?”
I look at my boots, debating how much to share.
“Viking called me that night,” I begin. “He already took a bullet to the side, but he managed to tell me that the Forsaken were finally there and to protect Sasha.”
“Who’s now your old lady.” When I glance at Bishop, he shrugs. “News like that travels fast, brother. Congratulations.”
Deciding he’s being honest enough, I nod back in acknowledgment. “Yeah. Back to what I was saying. I got there as fast as I could. Cops were already at his house. Sasha called ‘em in. And there was a dead Forsaken on the lawn next to Vike.”
The two Forsaken in front of me exchange loaded looks.
“What?” Diesel asks impatiently.
“Chief Morris paid us a visit last month. Rook and I were handling some club business in Kentucky, along with half of our club, but Switch and our secretary, Jug, handled it. Called me that evening.”
