She talked about painting the water by my house. And I thought about building a small but covered space for her to sit and paint outside.
I fell asleep with her in my arms. And when I woke, there was a note on my pillow that told me she loved me and that she’d gone to work. So, I’d slept in, caught up with some house shit. Made a few calls I needed to.
And then, showed up here.
“Not domestic bliss,” Sunny cuts in, grinning like he’s been waiting all day to haze me. “That shit with Maren looked spiritual. He’s like a man reborn.”
I flip him the bird but can’t help but grin.
“Jesus Christ, he’s smiling,” North says from the pool table. “Magical pussy finally released you from your confirmed bachelorhood spell, Prez?”
I shake my head. “You are all way too interested in my fucking sex life.”
Sunny chuckles. “In fairness, Prez, you kind of presented your sex life to us on a golden platter downstairs.”
Ridge shrugs. “And you’re less fucking grumpy now that you’re getting laid.”
“I got laid before,” I say, before realizing I don’t have to explain myself to these shits.
Lock shakes his head. “That’s a bit like comparing low-alcohol beer to the real thing. Drinkable, but doesn’t have the same effect.”
“What’s the difference between low-alcohol beer and making love in a canoe?” Havoc asks.
“I’m sure I don’t want to know,” I reply.
Havoc grins. “They’re both fucking close to water.”
I roll my eyes, and a few of the others laugh as I grab a stool by the bar and tap the counter to get a beer. As I wait for it to come, the laughter and playful ribbing continue.
Reaper sits next to me. “You really like her, Prez?”
I take a sip of my beer and think about the conversation Maren and I had outside the house, when I asked her if she wanted to be my old lady, and she said yes.
“Yeah. I do. And for the record, when Vandal gets here, I’m gonna want a vote on her becoming my old lady.”
Cheers erupt, and my men give me yesses, even though it’s not officially the right time. Makes my heart full, though.
“I’ve never bought into this whole sins-of-the-father bullshit,” he says. “She’s never given the club trouble, and you can’t choose who donated the DNA to make you.”
My phone rings and I see Vandal’s name on the screen. I pick it up and answer it. “What’s up, brother?”
“You need to come out in three seconds,” a strange voice says. “Unarmed. Or he’s dead. One…”
“Trouble outside. Vandal. No guns.”
“Two…”
“I’m coming, you motherfucker,” I shout, and I run for the door.
When I hit the stairs, I see Vandal on the ground, one step from dead. He’s beaten so badly, I wouldn’t know it was him if I didn’t recognize his build, ink, and rings. If the fucker’s lucky, he might get to keep his eyes. His nose is broken, I can see the bend from the steps as I run down them. His body shakes from adrenaline and pain.
There’s a man standing over him, foot on his head keeping his cheek to the dirt, gun pointing down at Vandal’s chest.
Where the fuck are the…?
Then, I see the prospects who were meant to be on duty lined up against the wall by two men, armed to the teeth, dressed in all black. It’s the two men that have been riding around town dressed like lumberjacks.
Before I can even formulate a plan, there is a red dot on my chest, and that means there is a sniper hidden out there, somewhere.
