Page 13 of Blackbeard (Blackjacks MC #2)

Chapter eight

Leigh

After Blackbeard’s family left, a silence descended over the house, similar to the dull emptiness of a hangover after the buzz of alcohol had worn off. He stepped closer, towering over me in my chair.

“Did you really have to bring up the ring?” he demanded.

I shrugged, fanning my fingers out to study my nail polish.

“Well, I figured I should play along. Since you didn’t say anything about the fact that our marriage was an arrangement, and you were dragged into it against your will.

If you want, I can call your grandmother and explain everything.

Set the record straight. You don’t love me, I'm your wife in name only, and her hopes of seeing great-grandbabies from you one day will be dashed forever.”

Blackbeard huffed.

“Don’t do that.”

“Yeah, I figured you wouldn’t want that to happen. It’s not looking good for you, Diego. If you don’t make your wife happy, I could ruin everything. Rat you out to your family. Rat you out to my dad. You’re really between a rock and a hard place.”

He narrowed his eyes and gripped the back of my chair, swiveling it around until I faced him. Bracing one hand on the counter, he blocked me in with his body, leaning close.

I grinned at him, thrilled to be the center of his attention. I traced my fingers along his clavicle, dipping down to explore the unbuttoned expanse of his collar—warm, brown skin, dark chest hair, the teasing glimpse of tattoo ink.

“I remember what happened the last time you looked at me this way,” I said. “Guess that means we’re about to fuck in the kitchen.”

“What are you up to?” Blackbeard replied, his voice pitched low, searching my face.

I breathed a faint laugh.

“Isn’t it obvious? Trying to get you to bend me over the counter. When I push your buttons until you snap, it turns you on for some reason.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“Unzip your pants and I’ll tell you anything you want to hear.”

He sighed with frustration and straightened again, heading out of the kitchen. I hopped off my chair, following after him.

“I liked your sister,” I called. “And your nieces are adorable. I can’t wait to meet the rest of your family—”

Blackbeard whirled to face me.

“Stay away from them.”

All it took was one strategic little tug of the sash around my waist, and my robe seemed to fall open naturally. Revealing my thin, black camisole, and my snug pink shorts.

Blackbeard’s gaze flicked down my body for a split second. No bra and no underwear—easy access if he cracked and we ended up fucking right here against the wall.

“Your family took over the kitchen when I was having breakfast,” I countered.

“What was I supposed to do? Leave? That wouldn’t be very charitable of me as a brand new bride.

I’m sure your abuela is spreading the word as we speak that her precious, devoted grandson, Diego, has given up his bachelor ways for a beautiful, charming wife.

I imagine everyone will want to welcome me into the family very soon. ”

A muscle twitched in Blackbeard’s jaw. His chest swelled on a sharp intake of breath.

Come on, big guy. You’re so close to breaking down and giving in to that quick fuck you crave.

But he curled his hands into fists and turned on his heel, marching to the front door.

“Where are you going?” I said. “You were out all night and now you’re leaving again?”

“My wife wants a ring,” he spat. “There’s a pawn shop a few blocks down the road.”

I frowned and propped a hand on my hip.

“Better not. I’ll tell your grandmother.”

Blackbeard growled and ground to a halt, swearing softly. His shoulders dropped in defeat.

“Didn’t realize I married a tattle-tale.”

“Should have read the fine print then,” I shot back.

He spread his hands, exasperated.

“I won’t sell my house just to put a shiny rock on your finger.”

“Don’t be melodramatic, dear. That won’t be necessary. I’ll send you some pictures of what I like. You can make a decision from there.”

Blackbeard was gone for hours, which didn’t surprise me. Brightwater was too small to house a jewelry store. He probably had to drive to a bigger town, or even a city. Denver was nearly two hours away.

Now that I was alone in the house, it was painfully quiet. At first, I didn’t mind. Silence didn’t bother me. In fact, after growing up around Dad and his club, I welcomed a little personal space.

Bikers used to traipse through our house, day and night. As the President’s daughter, I had a biker tailing me everywhere I went. Going on dates and hanging out with my friends as a teenager had been complicated, to say the least.

When I got my own apartment, I finally earned some breathing room. Dad and Torch were the only ones who had a spare key to my apartment. The other Forsaken had to knock and wait for an invitation before they crossed my threshold.

And if I got lonely, all I had to do was head down to the clubhouse. Dad would pull up a chair, bark at a Prospect to get me a beer, and I would be swallowed up by the melee of club life again.

Although sharing breakfast with Blackbeard’s family had struck a chord with me.

I didn’t have grandparents, siblings, or cousins.

Dad’s club just wasn’t the same. His men acted like worker bees or drones where I was concerned.

It was their job to ensure that no harm came to me.

We trash talked each other, and if I needed anything, they were usually willing to drop whatever they were doing to lend a hand.

But we weren’t close .

We didn’t cook in the kitchen together, the way Esperanza had taught her little girls how to roll out tortillas.

We didn’t embrace each other warmly when it was time to go, the way Blackbeard had hugged his sister and his grandmother.

A pit of…something…gnawed at my gut. Jealousy? Sadness? Whatever it was, I didn’t want to think about it, let alone examine it too closely. Shaking my head, I shoved that feeling down—whatever it was—and put the finishing touches on my eyeliner.

Zipping my makeup bag closed, my free hand strayed to my phone on the bathroom counter. Out of habit, I checked the screen.

No messages. No missed calls.

Now that I thought about it, I hadn’t heard from Dad since the marriage.

Granted, it was only a few days ago. And it wasn’t exactly unusual for him to go radio silent.

I spent many nights eating dinner alone as a kid because Dad got wrapped up in club business and he forgot to let me know he wouldn’t be home until late.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Glossy auburn curls framing my face. Green eyes sharp and clear and watchful. Black V-neck T-shirt revealing a tempting glimpse of my plump cleavage.

Twenty-eight years old, and here I was, being a crybaby for my daddy like a little girl. I swallowed around the lump in my throat. I’d never been needy or clingy with him before, because he trained it out of me.

Don’t let ‘em see you sweat, Leigh, he used to tell me. That’s a weakness and it can be used against you.

I tapped at my phone’s screen, pulling up Dad’s number. In my mind, I couldn’t stop replaying the memory of Blackbeard with his nieces perched on his lap. They looked so safe and happy with his tattooed hands resting against their delicate little backs, ready to catch them if they started to fall.

I pressed the call button and waited while Dad’s phone rang—once, twice—before it went to voicemail.

I knew my marriage to Blackbeard was temporary. Wouldn’t last more than a year, if everything went according to plan.

But I was alone in enemy territory, surrounded by Blackjacks. I wished I could see a familiar face, or hear Dad’s voice to ease the press of loneliness that had settled between the spaces of my ribs.

Dad is well aware I can handle myself, I reasoned, despite the pang of disappointment in my chest.

So I hung up and slid my phone into my back pocket without leaving a message.

While Blackbeard was gone, I stayed busy to distract myself from the emptiness of the house.

I rummaged through his closet, spraying every single article of clothing he owned with my perfume.

Even if he tried to escape me by drinking with his buddies at the clubhouse, my scent would follow, torturing him.

I tucked a few of my panties into his sock drawer. The tiny, lacy thongs should spark his imagination and get his blood pumping.

Digging through his bureau, my fingers grazed the curve of cool metal. A gun, probably. Brushing aside fabric, I was delighted to be proven wrong.

Handcuffs. The fun kind. Padded with soft, black velvet.

I smiled and covered them back up, making a mental note I would undoubtedly use for future reference. The sooner, the better, hopefully.

On that note, I retrieved the vibrator I brought with me and approached Blackbeard’s nightstand. Should I put it in the drawer so he could subtly stumble on it later?

Nah, I wasn’t patient enough for that.

I placed it on top of his nightstand, next to his clock. If he fumbled around in the dark—to shut off his alarm, or turn on the light—there was a good chance he would brush up against it. And that hot pink vibrancy in the dark moody color palette of his bedroom would undoubtedly grab his attention.

Eventually, the silence started to chafe at me. I selected a playlist on my phone and cranked the volume up, blasting the echo of nothing and no one into oblivion.

Hours later, that’s how Blackbeard found me—wearing only my panties and one of his oversized T-shirts. Swaying and spinning around the empty house, dodging the collection of beer cans on the floor.

I didn’t hear him come in, didn’t hear the heavy tread of his boots on the tile floor until he stood on the threshold of the living room, watching me with his dark eyes.

“Honey! You’re home!” I chirped, proud of myself that I only slurred a little.