Page 16 of Blackbeard (Blackjacks MC #2)

“You totally did.”

I glanced at Leigh. She met my gaze, lips quirking up in amusement.

This was the first time I’d seen her without makeup. No wingtip eyeliner. No foundation. No blush or contour. Nothing but bare skin and I was surprised to notice thick patches of russet brown freckles marching across the bridge of her nose.

It was strange to think that I knew what she felt like, wrapped around my cock, but I never knew the woman I married had freckles…

I wrapped Bodhi’s stitches with gauze and gave him a glass of water to wash down two painkillers. Then I gestured to the door.

“All done,” I said. “Don’t get it dirty. Now go, wait outside on the lawn. Big G should be here any minute.”

“Thanks, Uncle Diego,” Bodhi chirped, hopping off his chair. “You’re the best. Bye, Aunt Leigh.”

Leigh’s face brightened.

Aunt Leigh, she mouthed at me, smug.

After my nephews were gone, Leigh grinned and turned away, busying herself with starting the coffee maker.

“Such a softie,” she said.

“And you’re a little devil,” I replied. “Teasing those boys like that.”

Leigh chuckled.

“It’s not my fault that your family adores me.”

I packed up my medical kit and leaned back against the counter, crossing my arms. My gaze roamed over Leigh’s bare legs as she reached up to grab two mugs from the cabinet.

For a split second, I allowed myself to entertain the idea of closing the space between us.

Pinning her against the counter. Sliding the hem of her robe up around her waist to reveal her hips and that plump ass.

If she was wearing panties—which I doubted—I would hook my tattooed fingers into the skimpy, lacy fabric and drag it down, pooling around her ankles.

I envisioned myself unbuckling my belt, dragging the head of my cock along her slit before sinking in deep.

Last night, when she flung herself at me, I didn’t give in. No matter how many times she pouted and sulked and demanded to be fucked, I managed to hold fast to my resolve that I would keep my distance and clear my head.

But it wasn’t easy.

I wanted the scorching silk of her pussy squeezing every last drop from my cock again. I wanted to caress every inch of her body and watch the arousal build and build—pinching her nipples, stroking her clit until she babbled needy nonsense.

And I couldn’t stop thinking about that goddamn hot pink vibrator she’d oh-so-strategically placed on my nightstand.

“Get dressed,” I said gruffly, wrenching my gaze away from her. “We have plans for the day.”

Leigh glanced over her shoulder at me.

“Not even a pretty please? What if I’m busy?”

“Then clear your schedule,” I replied. “The Blackjacks are meeting at Hot Shot’s garage to help him clean up. You’re coming too.”

She pursed her lips in consideration.

“Manual labor isn’t really my thing, honey. But let me give Dad a call. He can send over a few of his men—”

“No,” I cut in. “Hot Shot has been through enough. No Forsaken. He’s still recovering from that gunshot wound your daddy’s boys gave him. Seeing Forsaken anywhere near his garage again would probably put him in cardiac arrest.”

Leigh gestured to herself.

“What makes you think Hot Shot will be excited to see me then?”

“Oh, he won’t.” I grabbed my medical kit as I made my way out the door. “But you’re the woman I married, so you have to learn how to play nice with others.”

I revved the engine of my motorcycle for a third time, signaling to Leigh that it was time to go. She finally emerged from the house, wearing black jeans that looked like they were painted on, and a snug-fitting lilac crop top.

Zipping up her padded leather riding jacket and shouldering her purse, she took her sweet time walking down the porch steps until she reached the driveway.

“It’s about time you showed up,” I said, holding out a spare helmet to her.

She took it, settling it on her head and aligning the straps under her chin with well-practiced familiarity.

“I can’t say I’m looking forward to this. It’s our first outing as a couple, and I would have preferred something a little more romantic—maybe a spa date, or wine tasting.”

“I guess you’ll just have to get used to disappointment, sweetheart,” I replied. “Hop on.”

Leigh perked up with a wry little smile and slid onto the back of my bike. She cuddled up tightly against my back, locking her arms around my waist. When her lips ghosted along the curve of my neck and my cock jumped, that’s when I realized what a vulnerable position I’d unwittingly put myself in.

Leigh slid her hands along my torso and chest, inside my cut, blatantly feeling me up. She skimmed one hand lower, dipping past my belt, grazing my groin. I caught her wrist firmly.

“I would appreciate it if your wandering hands didn’t put us in the hospital.”

“Then let’s blow everybody off and go back to bed,” Leigh replied.

I laughed and shook my head.

“Aside from my abuela, you’re the most determined woman I’ve ever met.”

In my side mirror, I saw Leigh grin.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said.

Twenty minutes later, Leigh and I arrived at Full Throttle Auto Repair.

Near the office, Tex had set up a long table for a buffet, stuffed with dishes of his home cooked food.

Fried chicken, biscuits, green bean casserole, ham and beans, just to name a few of the staples that he always cooked for the club.

A handful of Blackjacks were already here, digging into their food or sweeping up the glass that littered the pavement. Their bikes were lined up at one side of the parking lot, and I pulled in next to Vlad’s dark red motorcycle, shutting off the engine.

Hot Shot hobbled around on crutches, abandoning the lawn chair that must have been placed in the garage for him.

“You’re supposed to be keeping your weight off that leg,” I called over to him as I removed my helmet and dismounted my bike. “Don’t you know the meaning of taking a break?”

But Hot Shot didn’t respond to that. His gaze was locked onto Leigh as she approached alongside me. He jerked his chin at her.

“What the hell is she doing here?”

Leigh spread her arms wide.

“Moral support,” she replied. “I’ll sit around and look pretty, cheering you on.”

I growled and shot her a dark look.

“You just can’t resist kicking the hornets nest, can you?”

Leigh batted her lashes at me without an ounce of remorse.

“It’s part of my charm.”

I sighed. She was going to be a handful today, I could tell.

Crash scowled, gripping a broom so tightly that his hands trembled. Every muscle in his body tensed, coiled tight and ready to snap. Kingpin and Big G exchanged a glance I couldn’t interpret.

“I told Leigh to come,” I said, directed to everyone.

This was my decision, not hers. I would keep her in line…

as well as I could, at any rate. “She needs to start making amends, and she’ll pull her weight today, like everyone else.

If we’re sharing the same territory with the Forsaken according to our agreement, we need to figure out how to get along. ”

Baby Doll pressed her lips into a thin line and plucked a biscuit from the buffet table, nibbling at it. She was a master at keeping a mask in place, hiding her expressions, her feelings, her thoughts, but her silence spoke volumes. She didn’t like this. And I didn’t really blame her either.

Tex grabbed a paper plate and held it out to Leigh—a peace offering.

“Come on then, darlin’,” he said, with that thick Southern drawl. “Eat your fill. I don’t want to be taking home any leftovers.”

Without a word, Crash dropped his broom and it clattered to the pavement. He whirled on his heel and stormed into the garage. Kingpin sighed and rubbed his forehead.

“I’ll go talk to him after he cools off,” he said. “A warning would have been nice, Blackbeard.”

Guilt tugged at my stomach, but I buried it.

Part of the reason I had insisted that Leigh would accompany me today was to smooth over ruffled feathers. The Blackjacks were still prickly when it came to the Forsaken, not that the Forsaken were doing anything to change that.

But I also did it for Leigh’s sake. Seeing her drunk last night showed me a glimpse beneath her armor.

She was lonely, whether she would admit that or not. It leaked out nonetheless—in the words she spoke, in the way she kept trying to ply me with sex.

I had parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, siblings, nieces, nephews, and cousins. I had my club. I was surrounded by people who cared about me.

But Leigh only had her dad. And he sold her out to his enemies.

“You don’t warn the club when you bring Hattie around,” I reasoned, knowing I was flirting with fire by bringing his Old Lady into this.

“That’s different,” Kingpin replied in a chilly voice.

Because Leigh belongs to the Forsaken.

His unspoken words lingered in the air with an uneasy silence, damning and impossible to ignore. Had I miscalculated? Should I have left Leigh at home?

I never thought I would be in this position, with Leigh on one side of me, and my club on the other. Running interference. Defending her.

Leigh pushed her plate into my hands, marched over to the broom Crash had abandoned, and picked it up.

“If it’s all the same to you,” she said. “I’ll skip breakfast and make myself useful instead.”

That seemed to thaw the temperature by a marginal amount.

I watched Leigh as she began sweeping up the glass into a neat pile.

She was back to her old self again, with glossy curls and makeup—no freckles in sight.

I knew her well enough by now to recognize that she could have continued causing trouble until tempers exploded.

Voluntarily picking up that broom and bypassing breakfast was an intentional way to humble herself.

Just as I turned to the buffet table, a blur of movement drew my attention to the garage.

Crash emerged. Lifted his pistol. And fired—once, twice, three times.

Leigh lurched and fell to the ground, clutching her side. Her face screwed up in pain as blood streamed through her fingers.

My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach.

Before I realized what I was doing, I lunged across the parking lot and grabbed Crash’s wrist, angling the gun toward the sky. My momentum sent us toppling to the ground in a heap of tangled limbs.

I slammed Crash’s hand against the pavement, again and again, until his grip loosened. The gun skittered across the ground. From the corner of my eye, I saw Gatling smoothly glide by as he snatched it up.

“She deserves to die!” Crash spat. “Can’t you see that?”

“ She’s my fucking wife ,” I bellowed back.

A firm pair of large hands clamped onto my shoulders. Vlad yanked me off Crash, holding me at a safe distance, keeping his body between us. Big G and Kingpin hauled Crash to his feet, hustling him behind the garage and out of sight.

Baby Doll crouched over Leigh, pressing a towel to the wound in an attempt to slow the bleeding. I felt sick to my stomach.

How did I not see this coming? Crash had been pissed about this whole arrangement since the start. I should have known he would want revenge on the Forsaken. I should have known he would try to take Leigh out.

My chest heaved as I fought to regulate my breathing, clear my head of the haze that clouded my thoughts.

“Are you good, brother?” Vlad rumbled with his clipped Russian accent.

As our Enforcer, he was no stranger to breaking up fights and putting himself in the middle of sketchy situations. He eyed me warily now, gauging whether or not he needed to use more force to subdue me.

I nodded and held up my hands.

“I’m fine,” I said, hoarse and quiet.

Gatling stood off to the side, staring at me with an unblinking, icy blue gaze like I’d completely lost my mind. Crash’s pistol was securely held in his grip, but I couldn’t bear to look at that dark, hulking piece of metal.

As the adrenaline began to fade from my system, the reality of what just happened started to sink in.

I attacked Crash—our Prospect, a brother. He needed to be disarmed before he hurt someone, I reasoned. He was dangerous and I had to stop him.

But that wasn’t the heart of the truth.

Not when those words were still seared red-hot like a brand on my tongue.

She’s my fucking wife.