Shooter looked at her calmly before taking a deep breath and sighing. He glanced over her shoulder at me, holding my gaze momentarily before looking back at Belle.
“We need you to call Lorenzo,” he said. “Tell him to meet you at an address at a certain time.”
“And then?” she pressed.
“Then we’ll make it quick.”
Belle turned and looked at me. “You meanhe’llmake it quick.” She looked back at Shooter and he nodded simply. “I don’t want it to be him,” she said defiantly.
“This ain’t a democracy, Belle,” I snarled.
“Fuck you,” she snapped, throwing me a hurt look, and as ridiculous as it sounds, I was shocked by her uncouthness. Belle didn’t swear, like ever, and I had the sudden urge to laugh. “I want it to beanyonebut him,” she continued.
Shooter frowned. “I don’t think you understand what’s happening here, darlin’.”
“I do. You’re going to kill me for betraying your trust. I get that, I’m not stupid, Shooter. I knew this would happen. And I get that you don’t even care that I didn’t really have a choice, but—”
“You did have a fucking choice, Belle!” I yelled, interrupting her. “That’s the goddamn point. You had a choice and you made the wrong one and now you’re going to ground.”
“Brother, calm down,” Rider said, taking a step toward me.
“Fine,” Shooter interrupted, “I’ll do it.”
“No, that’s not what we agreed!” I said, storming forward. “I do it.”
Shooter looked between me and Belle, giving a shake of his head. He grabbed his beer off the bar and took a long swallow before slamming it back down. “Jesus fucking Christ, I can’t believe I’m even having this discussion.”
“Well believe it, Prez,” I bit out. “She dies by my hand and no one else’s. That’s what we agreed.”
I couldn’t look at her. I didn’t want to see the hurt on her face. The disbelief and hurt that I wanted to kill her. The resentment because this had been my deal, myonlyobjection. I was a monster, and now she really did know it. Beast by name, beast by nature.
Shooter looked over at Belle. “Just need you to call him and tell him to meet you,” he placated as calmly as he could.
“Then promise me it won’t be Beast. I’ll call him and I’ll take you, I’ll take the scary huge guy over there,” she said, pointing to Gauge. “I’ll even take the aging wannabe male model over there, but I won’t do anything if you don’t promise me that Beast won’t be the one to kill me.”
All eyes turned to Rider.
Theaging wannabe male model.
And then Casa’s booming laugh erupted through the clubhouse, and no matter how much Gauge told him to shut the fuck up, Casa just laughed and laughed and laughed. I wasn’t sure if he was high or if he’d gone insane, but he just kept on laughing.
“Enough!” Shooter eventually yelled, loud enough to make him shut up.
“Sorry, Prez,” Casa said, still snickering, his gaze on Rider, and I knew that in years to come, Belle would be haunting me because Casa would never let that shit drop. He’d bring it up at every party. He’d bring it up at every meet. Every argument would end in Casa laughing at Rider and his wannabe male model ways. Belle was going to be around in the club long after she was dead.
“You know, we have ways of making you talk,” Shooter said, and Belle looked like she was about to piss herself because she’d seen on my body the ways men like us used to make people talk, but she lifted her chin and held her ground. “Fine,” Shooter finally agreed, and when I opened my mouth to argue with him, he glared at me. “This has to happen, Beast. We need to finish this today, so learn to deal with it, for the sake of the club.”
For the sake of the club…
His words cut and burned me worse than the bastards that had tortured me for hours.
I’d lost everything for the sake of this club. My body, my mind, and now my woman. All for this fucking club. I gritted my teeth and bit my tongue, holding in my anger, because once I let it go I wouldn’t be able to stop. I’d rip and tear and kill anyone and anything in my path.
“Phone,” Shooter said to me, and I pulled out Belle’s cellphone from my cut. He took it and handed it to her along with a scrap of paper with an address on it. “Call Lorenzo. Tell him to meet you here.”
She nodded, her hand shaking as she took the phone and paper. I watched her swallow, her face paling, her body trembling, before she finally looked up at Shooter with a small frown.
“What now?” he barked, growing impatient—which was unusual for Shooter, because ironically he had the patience of a saint, but this shit was wearing on us all. We all liked Belle and no one really wanted her to have to die, but it was what it was.
