Silence stretched briefly, and then Chloe spoke softly. “My dad would’ve loved this,” she said. Hearing that nearly knocked the air from his lungs. Butcher closed his eyes briefly as he remembered the last time he saw Savage, and all of the horrible things that he had said to him.
Vengeance’s voice broke through the moment. “You got a club name yet?” Butcher looked back toward Wade and found the asshole literally making patch sketches already.
He sighed heavily. “No.”
Wade looked up immediately and grinned. “Oh,” he shouted from across the bar, “I do. I say we call our club the Savage Bastards.”
“Savage, for my dad,” Chloe breathed into the other end of the call. He could hear the emotion in her voice, and it nearly broke him.
“And Bastards as a nod to the Royal Bastards,” Vengeance finished for her.
“I love it,” Chloe said.
“Me too,” Vengeance agreed. Butcher had to admit—he liked it too. Hell, he loved it, but he couldn’t seem to speak past the lump of emotions in his throat. He nodded his agreement, not that Chloe or Vengeance could see him do so.
“Sounds good,” he said, clearing his throat.
“Okay, now that that is settled, how about you let me and Chloe handle the paperwork? I’ll be in touch in a day or two, and we can make everything official,” he said. Huntsville will be proud to sponsor you guys,” he said, and damn it if Butcher was finding it hard to speak again.
“Sounds good,” he said, sounding like a fucking broken record. He wasn’t sure when he had become so damn sentimental, but that shit needed to stop. He had a feeling that might take a while with the past being trudged back up, but he’d figure out a way to keep his fucking emotions at bay.
PRINCESS
Princess knew something was different the second Butcher walked through the front door that evening. It wasn’t a bad difference; it was worse. His new difference seemed to have purpose, and she was sure that it had everything to do with her. He carried it in the way he moved—steady, focused, dangerous in a way that made the tiny hair on the back of her neck stand up. The old version of him was back—at least, the version he told her about was back. Maybe it wasn’t the old version of him, but the real one that he had hidden away from her.
He shut the door behind himself quietly before his eyes landed on her sitting at the kitchen counter. And for one brief second, the hard edge in his expression softened, which she was sure was only for her.
“You okay?” he asked. Princess blinked at him because the question felt absurd considering the look on his face.
“You look like you buried a body,” she said cautiously.
A rough laugh left him. “Not today, honey,” he said. That wasn’t exactly comforting. Princess watched him carefully while he crossed the kitchen toward her. He looked exhausted, but underneath the exhaustion was something heavier. He hadmade a decision, and she worried that it was one that she wasn’t going to like.
“What happened?” she asked softly. Butcher stopped directly in front of her, and he did something that completely threw her off balance. He touched her—not sexually or urgently. It was just his rough hand sliding along her jaw gently, like he needed to reassure himself she was still there.
“We got a problem,” he admitted quietly.
Ice slid down her spine instantly as she thought about her father finding her. It had to be that. Princess sat straighter immediately. “How bad is it?”
Butcher’s eyes locked onto hers. “Bad enough I’m done pretending I can handle this alone.” That answer surprised her enough to steal her breath, because men like Butcher didn’t admit weakness easily. Hell, men like her father would rather die than say the words, “I need help.”
“What does that mean?” she asked carefully. Something unreadable crossed his face, and she knew that she wasn’t going to like what he was about to tell her.
“I started a club,” he said.
Princess stared at him. “You what?” she asked, not sure that she had heard him correctly.
Butcher sighed like he already regretted the entire sentence, and now he was going to have to say it over again. “Technically, it’s still in the planning stages, but I started a club.”
“You told me you hated clubs,” she reminded.
“No,” he corrected quietly. “I told you I left my old one back in Huntsville.”
Princess stood slowly from the stool, trying to process what he was saying. “You started a biker club because of me?” His silence answered before he did. Oh God. Something complicated twisted painfully in her chest. “You shouldn’t have done that,” she whispered. “It’s too dangerous.”
Butcher’s expression hardened immediately. “Too late to turn back now, honey.”
“Butcher—” she started.
