As always, I didn’t want to leave.
Not her bed. Not her arms. And definitely not the hypnotic grip of her gaze that seemed to be ordering me to stay put.
All while her luscious mouth formed the words I had started to cling to.
“Get to work, Prez.”
If not for her, I wouldn’t know how to start my day and not completely drown in the stifling routine. Fuck. A routine that wasn’t much more than a steady erasure of Wolf’s presidency—poorly disguised as transition of power.
“Prez.”
I hear Ryder call for me, and I quickly curb the urge to flinch.
He must see the effect it has on me. Which is why he simply frowns for a beat. Pensive. Grim.
“Uh…” he fumbles, then clears his throat. “We’ve disposed of the bodies. They bled out by afternoon yesterday. Thought you’d want to inform the Rosca fucker.”
They were dead.
Of course, I knew they’d bleed out eventually—the gunshot was to ensure they did.
We chose to leave them there. Swimming in piss, shit, and a nice little add-on; blood.
It was a deliberate decision that their screams were to be their only fucking company.
A hellish prison shrouded in darkness. That they’d feel the reality of their impending death in the haunting silence from whoever succumbed first.
That twisted satisfaction from yesterday is duller now. More like an afterthought. And all I can manage right now is the push toward fixing this mess.
“Yeah, I’ll get to that,” I tell him, nodding. “He wants an audience in a few weeks—said he’s close to getting the client list.”
“Fuck!” Ryder groans, rubbing a hand over his tired face. “I’ve been trying too. Bug is getting nowhere.”
“We’ll find the rest of them, brother.” I slap his shoulder as I stride past him toward my office.
It doesn’t take me long before I bury myself in work. Stretching that VP muscle a little farther than it should.
Fuck. That reminds me.
We need to appoint a new Road Captain. A new Treasurer too, now that Ryder’s stepping up as VP, and Hound’s moving into the SAA role.
I make a mental note to hold church tomorrow.
As hours drag on, my body slowly begins to hum with anticipation. The clock ticking closer to 5 p.m.
All I can think about now is her. Work be damned.
God, I can’t wait until I’m at her door. Pulling her into my arms and savoring that closeness she so willingly gives me now.
My first fucking date with Charlotte.
There was a time when none of this would’ve been possible. And there’s a part of me that still can’t wrap my head around it.
The woman who wanted nothing to do with me is allowing me to be in her vicinity. It’s nothing short of a fucking miracle in my book. Not to mention I’ve been counting the number of times she initiates our kisses—like a lovesick sap.
The score has reached a nice, rounded six.
And fuck, I’m desperately hoping for the day I’ll lose track. When her kisses start to feel less like an undeserved gift to me and more like the peace she deserves.
