Page 31 of Georgie (Sons of Hell MC #10)

King

Sons of Hell clubhouse...

Walking down the stairs and stiffly adjusting my tie, I looked at my brothers, who were all smiling and waiting anxiously for the early morning pre-wedding show to begin, each holding varying models of cameras in their hands.

Fuckers were just asking for an ass beating.

Even the women had their cellphones at the ready.

I grimaced.

It had been a hell of a morning already and I just wanted this shit show over with fast. Grumbling, I said, “If you all know what’s good for you, I would put those cameras away. Bailey is in a fighting mood today.”

“When isn’t she?” My brother Gunner snickered as he snapped a picture of me.

I growled.

“What?” Gunner smiled unrepentantly. “This is going in the family album.”

“We don’t have a family album,” I sneered.

Seeing Scribe next to Henley, I looked over at him and said, “Tell me you have everything she needs for when the wedding is over.”

“Yep.” The annoying fucker smirked as he checked the camera around his neck, making sure it was on and ready to go. “I made sure The Queen of Darkness has everything she will need. It’s in my van, ready to go.”

“All of you, put those cameras away,” I snarled, glaring about the room. “She sees you with those things and there won’t be a damn wedding because I will be planning your funerals. And where the hell are Banks and Laurel?”

“They left for the lodge with Aleksandr and the kids an hour ago. Said they would meet us there.” My brother Pyro grinned, slowly shaking his head as he looked me up and down. “Gotta say, Callum, never thought I’d see you in a monkey suit. What would Dad think?”

“Dad’s probably getting a damn good laugh,” I snarked, then added, “I’m serious. Put the fucking cameras—”

“Oh dear, God help us all!” Sarah gasped as everyone turned to the stairs and stood wide-eyed, mouths gaping as Bailey appeared.

“Not one motherfucking word,” my woman sneered venom as she slowly descended the stairs. Dressed in a soft winter-blue taffeta Southern Belle gown, right out of Gone With the Wind , I gulped and swallowed hard as I tried my damndest not to smile.

Holy fuck!

The room was deadly silent, save for the faint creak of the stairs under her deliberate steps.

Every eye stayed glued to her, transfixed by the audacious flare of her gown and the defiance radiating from her every gesture.

She was a vision, a temptress wrapped in silk and taffeta, and there wasn’t a soul brave enough to comment—except Scribe.

“Holy mother of God,” he muttered under his breath, though the sly grin playing at the corner of his lips betrayed his amusement. “It’s the devil in a blue dress.”

Before anyone could respond, Bailey stopped mid-step, her gaze sweeping over the room, daring anyone to open their mouths.

The tension was thick, the kind of silence that felt like a string pulled taut, ready to snap.

Then, with an elegant flick of her hand, she adjusted the oversized skirt of her gown and continued her descent, her chin held high as though she were a queen descending from her throne.

Her voice was smooth but laced with venom as she sneered, “If any of you so much as say one damn word, I will see to it that your lives end today.”

I bit the inside of my cheek and nodded solemnly, though the twitch threatening to betray me at the corner of my lips probably didn’t help my case. “Noted.”

Scribe, bless his soul—or lack thereof—had less self-control.

A snicker escaped before he could stop it, and Bailey’s eyes narrowed on him like a hawk zeroing in on its prey.

“You got something to say, bestie?”

“Nope!” The smart man quickly shook his head. “Nuttin’ at all!”

With a true Southern Belle flourish, Bailey whipped her big ass dress behind her and marched toward the front door as if she were General Sherman getting ready to burn down the city of Atlanta. “Let’s get this shit show over with!”

Gator

Irish Rose Tavern...

“Hey, boss, you think there will be good vittles at this shindig?” Donut asked, leaning against the door as I combed back my hair.

“Don’ see why not.” I smiled, looking at myself in the mirror. “Why?”

Damn, I clean up fine!

“I mean, this is a real fancy place we’re goin’ to. I ain’t eatin’ no bland rubber chicken.”

“Donut’s got a point, boss,” Thore said, stepping up behind him. “We like our food seasoned, and these fancy folks ain’t never used anything but salt and pepper.”

Turning to look at the hulking man, I closed my eyes and counted to ten before I said another damn word.

Thore was eccentric on a good day. Hell, all my boys were, but I was pretty damn sure wearing no shirt to a classy wedding was against some rule or something. If that wasn’t bad enough, the brother had on a bear’s hide kilt with his family’s sword at his hip and calfskin boots up to his knees.

Now, I wasn’t up to date on wedding etiquette, but I was pretty damn sure what Thore and Donut were wearing wasn’t entirely appropriate. But then again, Thore did braid his hair and comb his beard, so that was a plus.

However, Donut totally missed the fucking memo because the brother was wearing a semi-white tank top, board shorts, flip-flops and a polka-dotted bow tie around his neck.

Storming out of the bathroom, I walked into the main bar area of the Irish Rose Tavern and glared at Worm, who wore all black as if he were getting ready for a funeral.

Braveheart looked like something out of an Irish romance novel, kilt and all, but it was Juju, my so-called vice president, who put us all to shame.

Dressed in a vibrant purple zoot suit, with top hat and cane, the man looked ready to herald Mardi Gras!

Fuck it.

We never put on airs, wasn’t gonna start now.

Besides, Uncle Jack had to know what he was fucking doing when he invited us.

Looking at my watch, I smiled. “Well, we’ve got about an hour before we need to head out. Juju, line em’ up!”

Walking behind the bar, Juju smiled, placing a fresh bottle of Hell’s Inferno on the bar. “Lookee what I found in Scribe’s office. Brother was holding out on us.”

Grinning, I ordered, “Pop the cap and pour.”

With shot glasses filled, every brother grabbed one as I raised mine in salute. “To Uncle Jack and my new auntie LeeAnn!”

“You drink that, Wade Montague Crawley, and I will take a switch to your hide!” a very familiar, firm voice said from behind me.

Gulping, I looked at Juju as he slowly backed away.

“Tell me that ain’t my m?man .”

“Can’t do that, boss,” Juju whispered, his eyes wide.

Slowly lowering the shot glass, I turned and there she was.

My m?man .

The very woman who spent three excruciating, painful days trying to birth my big ass head, according to her.

The woman who spent the next eighteen years ensuring I walked the straight and narrow, instilling the fear of God in me any way she could.

To make matters worse, next to her were my aunties, Auntie Glorianna and Auntie Gail.

Standing together, the La Croix sisters were something to see. Even though they were getting on in age, they were still strikingly beautiful.

Putting on my best smile, I stepped forward, extending my arms wide and greeting, “ M?man !” before quickly kissing her cheek and the aunties too. “When did you get into town?”

I should have known my smile wouldn’t work.

It never did with the La Croix sisters. That and I wasn’t a cute five-year-old rascal anymore.

Nope, I was a debonaire hound dog that was about to have my ass handed to me because in the next instant, my m?man and aunties started poking me in the chest. “What’s this I hear you got a girl in the family way? ”

Auntie Glorianna snapped, “I know your daddy showed you how to wrap up that dangly bit!”

“Seriously, Wade.” Auntie Gail pinned me with a glare as Uncle John stood off to the side, slowly shaking his head. “What were you thinking?”

“He wasn’t thinking, Gail.” Uncle John smirked. “Well, not with the right head!”

Just then, my cousin Romeo rushed in from the back room, shouting, “WADE! RUN! The moms are—” Stopping on a dime, Romeo paled, then gulped as Auntie Glorianna turned to look at her errant son and, just like me moments before, Rome plastered on one of his award-winning smiles and happily greeted his mother. “Momma!”

Devlyn

My apartment...

Hunched over the porcelain throne, I prayed for mercy when I heard someone banging loudly on my front door. Ignoring whoever it was, I heaved once more, before flushing the toilet and sitting back against the wall, thinking of all kinds of devious ways to kill Gator.

It was because of him I was in my current predicament.

It was all his fault. Gator. That swamp-born, gumbo-loving, fertility-god-incarnate son of a.

.. well, you get the picture . His Cajun sperm, apparently, were Olympic-level athletes in the fertilization games.

Not one, not two, but three little parasitic hitchhikers were currently partying in my uterus, a parasitic Mardi Gras I wasn’t invited to.

“Dev!”

Groaning, I hung my head as my sister Henley let herself into my apartment.

How could I forget I gave her a damn key?

Then my stomach grumbled, and I knew the answer.

It was the parasites that Cajun infected me with.

I should have known that someone named Gator would plant a damn litter in my uterus, clearly mistaking my womb for the Louisiana bayou. If I ever saw that fucker again, I was going to rip his balls from his body and serve them up in a damn gumbo!

My stomach growled, a low rumble that sounded suspiciously like a miniature monster truck rally.

They were getting hungry again.

Apparently, growing three tiny human beings required a heck of a lot of sustenance. The image of Gator flashed through my mind and his perpetually grinning face, his ridiculously thick eyebrows, his... everything.

Rage, incandescent and pure, bloomed in my chest.

When I saw him again, his testicles would be the main course of a very special gumbo.

A revenge gumbo. With extra hot peppers.

Ooh! Serrano peppers!

I sighed, rubbing my temples.

First, I needed to figure out how to explain three unexpected additions to my sister. Then, I’d move onto Gator. Justice, and a fantastic batch of gumbo, awaited that fucker.

But in the meantime, I really, really needed a burger.

A really, really big fat juicy burger.

“Oh, there you are,” my sister said, smiling down at me as I glared up at her. “I know you’re pissed but, Dev, we need to talk about this calmly before you go off half-cocked and do something you’ll regret.”

Henley’s voice was annoyingly level-headed, the exact opposite of how I felt.

I glared at her, my eyes narrowing. “Fuck calm, Hen! Look at the state of me! I feel like death warmed over, and it’s all because of Gator and his damn Cajun sperm!

” I gestured wildly, my hands emphasizing my frustration.

“I knew I shouldn’t have trusted him. One night, one stupid night, and now I’m growing a football team in here!

” I thumped my stomach for emphasis, feeling a mix of anger and disbelief.

Henley’s eyes widened, and she took a step back, her hands raised in a placating gesture. “Okay, okay, I get it. This is a shock, and it’s not ideal. But we can figure this out together. We’re sisters, and I’m here for you.” Her voice softened, and I could see the concern in her eyes.

Taking a deep breath, I ran my hands through my hair, trying to calm myself.

Sitting on my couch, I hunched over and whispered, “I can’t do this, Henley.

I never wanted to be a mom. I’m not like you.

I don’t have a husband. Hell, I don’t even have a boyfriend.

I live in a one-bedroom apartment. Now I’m going to have to find a house. I don’t want to buy a house!”

Kneeling before me, my sister grabbed my hands and smiled.

“Dev, you’re panicking. Take a deep breath for me.

You are the strongest person I know. You took care of me after Mom and Dad died.

You held my head above water before my website took off.

You’ve been by my side every step of the way.

And you won’t be alone. Scribe and I will help you.

As for the house, we’ve got time. I’ll call Lacey after the wedding and have her start looking for something cute that fits your personality.

We’ve got time, Dev. It’s going to be okay.

Now, why don’t you go get dressed and we can ride to the wedding together? ”

“I can’t go. He will be there. If I see his smug Cajun face, I’m liable to kill him and then you will have three more babies to raise. You go on. I’m just gonna curl up on the couch and watch some Game of Thrones .”

“Want me to bring you back a piece of cake?”

“A big one.”