Page 9 of Blackbeard (Blackjacks MC #2)

Chapter six

Leigh

Sometime around ten o’clock in the morning, the rumble of a motorcycle engine dragged me through the haze of sleep and into consciousness. I cracked one eye open, staring at the ceiling of Blackbeard’s master bedroom.

Of course I wormed my way into his bed last night. And I slept naked under his silky sheets, black as midnight. Especially after that encounter in his entry way a few hours ago.

My ass was still stinging from Blackbeard’s palm, and my muscles felt pleasantly sore, well-used. He really did know what he was doing with that girthy cock…

I'd tried to coax Blackbeard into joining me, since his bed had plenty of space to share. But he refused and took up residence on the couch instead.

The motorcycle engine faded into the distance. Blackbeard’s house became dead silent. Somehow, I knew in my gut that I was alone. He’d slipped out before I was awake, so he could dodge interacting with me.

Pushing the sheets aside, I strode from the room, not bothering to cover up. If I was wrong and Blackbeard was in the house after all, then it was perfectly normal for a husband to see his wife without any clothes on.

And if I was lucky, it might lead to another round of sex. Maybe on the couch. Or in the shower.

But a quick search of the house proved Blackbeard wasn’t here. Well then, fine. If he was going to leave me unattended, I would use his absence to my advantage. I surveyed the house again, slower this time, taking note of any information I could use.

The kitchen was beautiful, with warm, golden lighting, and a turquoise tiled border for a pop of brilliant color.

A long, granite counter top extended along one wall, with a massive stove.

Every inch of the room was spotless and well kept, organized, indicating Blackbeard took great care to maintain it.

Or someone else did. He was a bachelor after all. Women in his life were probably cleaning up his messes, making sure he didn’t have months of dirty dishes piled in his sink and attracting cockroaches.

I continued wandering through the house.

Brightly colored toys and board games were stuffed into the hallway closet.

The courtyard seemed to be a popular place to hang out, judging by the numerous chairs scattered around the barbecue pit.

A handful of trees provided shade, but the landscaping was non-existent otherwise—rocky, dry, with patches of scrawny weeds.

Then I found myself in the bedroom again, with that big mattress at the center, and those silky black sheets that felt like melting into the velvety embrace of the night sky.

Above the headboard was a triptych photograph of a motorcycle on a winding desert highway, stars glittering above, and towering saguaros in the distance.

Definitely not Brightwater, Montana.

The bedroom seemed nearly as well-maintained as the kitchen—clean, tidy, with good quality materials, turning it into a sanctuary of comfort for the senses.

Blackbeard must have hated that I slept in here. In his bed. In his most private living space that was supposed to be safe and protected.

I smiled to myself and dragged one of my suitcases into the bathroom. It was time to leave my mark on my new home alongside my husband.

Thirty minutes later, I was dressed, with a cup of coffee in hand, as I pulled into the parking lot of the Blackjacks clubhouse. When I stepped inside, it was virtually empty, especially compared to last night. Only a few members were present, and none of them were Forsaken.

We were probably a long way from sharing a clubhouse.

Blackbeard, Kingpin, and Crash were seated at a table in the corner, picking over plates of breakfast. Two more members—Tex and Spike—were at the bar, sleepily nursing cups of steaming hot coffee.

“Good morning, everyone,” I chirped.

Blackbeard glanced up and his gaze darkened.

“What are you doing here?”

I shrugged and unhooked my purse from my shoulder, draping it on the coat rack by the door.

“You were gone when I woke up. So, I thought I’d track down my dearest husband and spend the day with you. And since I’m your wife—the love of your life and your better half— I figured I should get settled in at the clubhouse. Make myself comfortable.”

No one said a word. I raised my eyebrows and took a sip of coffee.

Geez, it’s a little frosty in here.

Squaring my shoulders, I grabbed a chair and slid it across the room, planting myself next to Blackbeard.

Crash stared at me, fork paused halfway to his mouth. He let it drop to his plate with a clatter that broke the silence.

“What the fuck is she talking about?” he demanded.

Blackbeard put a hand on his shoulder.

“Kingpin and I were telling you—”

Crash shoved away from the table and rose to his feet, shifting from foot to foot with agitated energy. I leaned back in my chair to watch the show as understanding dawned on his face and he pieced together who I was.

“She’s Popeye’s daughter. She’s—she’s Forsaken.”

“Sit down, kid,” Kingpin said in a low, calm voice. But there was an edge of warning to his tone—a command that was intended to be obeyed.

“No, I won’t sit down,” Crash retorted. “And stop calling me kid . I told you, these fuckers are going to screw us over. But you’re not listening. Now, you’re making friends with them? With her ?”

A beat of silence filled the clubhouse. I glanced at Blackbeard, but he purposefully avoided my gaze.

So, I pulled the proverbial pin on the grenade and let it blow.

“Oh, we’re more than just friends, sweetie,” I said, jerking my thumb at Blackbeard. “I’m his wife. He signed the marriage certificate this morning before the crack of dawn. I guess that makes me practically your sister-in-law.”

Crash’s chest heaved with fury. Finally, Blackbeard flicked an annoyed glance in my direction. He pressed his lips into a thin line and growled at me.

“We were hoping to break the news to him gently.”

I shrugged.

“Better to rip off the band-aid in my opinion. Get it over with.”

Crash lunged across the table, reaching for me. Kingpin caught him with an arm across the chest like an iron band, hauling him back to a safe distance.

Blackbeard stiffened beside me, his body poised to spring into action. I sipped my coffee, studying the rigid lines of his shoulders, the flex of muscles in his tanned forearms as he gradually eased back into his chair.

God, he was sexy. My body burned with the memory of those first few minutes in his home, pinned against the wall, stuffed so gloriously full of his delicious cock.

Maybe if I kept riling him up, he would give in and agree to a down-and-dirty quickie in the bathroom. Or the alley behind the clubhouse. I wasn’t picky.

“You can’t lay a finger on her, kid,” Kingpin said. “If you do that, you’ll bring the Forsaken down on our heads. We made an agreement. Can’t break it without putting all of us at risk.”

Crash huffed and wrenched himself out of Kingpin’s grip. He glared at me.

“I don’t trust her.”

“None of us do,” Blackbeard replied evenly.

I pouted and nudged his boot with my foot.

“Not even you, my darling husband?”

He slid a sideways glance at me.

“You know what they say—keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”

I smirked and dipped my chin, gazing at him through my lashes.

“In that case, you keep your enemies very close.”

Crash made a noise of disgust and turned away.

“I don’t fucking believe this.”

“Watch your attitude, kid,” Kingpin called after him. “You’re still a Prospect, and she’s still your brother’s Old Lady. I didn’t say you had to like it, but you do have to be civil about it.”

Crash flipped him off and stomped right out the door.

“Well, that was a warm welcome,” I muttered into my cup.

Blackbeard grabbed my chair and slid me closer, until our knees bumped together. I raised my eyebrows as he leaned in, inches away from my face.

“You showed up here on purpose, to stir up shit and cause trouble.”

I hummed with a sly look.

“What did you expect? You left your brand new wife at home, alone, neglected and ignored. I got bored and I wanted attention.”

The door opened again, and I half expected Crash to come marching in, ready to finish what he started.

Instead, Baby Doll entered the room, glancing back over her shoulder as the guttural rumble of a motorcycle echoed in the parking lot.

“Were you guys bullying Crash again? He’s taking off like a bat out of hell—oh.”

She broke off when her gaze fell on me. I lifted my hand and wiggled my fingers in a little wave.

“I thought you were going to let him down gently,” Baby Doll said to Blackbeard.

“That was the idea, yeah,” he replied, pinching the inside of my knee, hard. I flinched and swatted his hand, digging my nails into his wrist in retaliation. “But my blushing bride couldn’t resist fucking it up for shits and giggles.”

“It’s not my fault you kept me out of the loop,” I shot back. “Next time, bring me breakfast in bed, kiss me good morning, and tell me what your plans are for the day. Maybe I’ll behave myself a little better next time.”

He snorted.

“Doubt it. I’m not treating you like royalty either, princess. That was Popeye's job. Not mine. To me, you’re just a signature on a dotted line, tied to my name.”

“Ouch,” I said, jutting out my lower lip in a pout. “Not very romantic, are you? Speaking of names, how did you come to be called Blackbeard anyway? What's the story behind that?"

He shrugged. "When I was a Prospect down in Mexico, I had a few jobs stealing from cargo ships when they came into port to unload. Expensive stuff from big name corporate companies. The club sold it for cash."

I tilted my head, considering, as I looked him up and down.

"It suits you," I said. "You'd look sexy, swashbuckling on the high seas."

"Too bad we're in landlocked Montana, so you can kiss that fantasy good-bye."