Page 23

Klutch

Even with bruises on her face, my girl is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

That’s the first thought that crosses my mind as I stare down at Demi sleeping in my arms. Every time my eyes land on the dark purple bruise on her cheek and the gash in her lip, rage bubbles up inside me like lava threatening to spill over.

And the wheezing when she breathes. I close my eyes and slowly inhale.

I know how much it fucking hurts when your ribs are bruised.

It being her who’s in pain will never sit right with me.

Moving carefully I adjust her against my chest, trying to make her more comfortable without waking her.

She sighs and nestles closer, her dark hair spilling down her back.

Fuck.

If I could rewind the clock, I’d go back and torture those fuckers before ending their miserable lives. They got off too fucking easy for what they did to my baby.

My phone chirps on the nightstand, and I carefully stretch out my arm to grab it without disturbing Blue. The screen lights up with a message.

Denali: Church in 30

I sigh and set the phone back down. With everything that happened today, I completely forgot about our weekly meet.

Looking down at Demi again, I memorize the peaceful expression on her face, the way her long lashes rest against her cheeks, and the soft part of her lips as she breathes. The pain meds Bravo gave her have knocked her out cold, which is for the best. She needs to heal—body and soul.

As carefully as I can, I slide out from under her, replacing my body with a pillow that she immediately curls around. I stand there, frozen to the spot, hoping she stays asleep. She makes a small sound of protest then relaxes.

Thank the Gods.

Turning, I grab my jeans from the floor and pull them on, followed by my t-shirt. After putting on some clean socks, I step into my boots and lace them up, then move over to the dresser. Grabbing a piece of paper, I scribble out a quick note.

Blue

Church.

K

It’s short and to the point, but she’ll understand.

After placing the note on the pillow next to her, I quietly slip out of the room, careful not to pull the door closed too hard behind me.

In the hallway, Pee Wee is just coming out of his room, adjusting his cut over his broad shoulders.

“You take McKenna home?” I ask, falling into step beside him.

He shakes his head, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “Nope.”

Well, okay then. I don’t ask for details. What he does in his private life is none of my business.

We make our way down to the chapel in silence. Outside the door, Kodiak, one of our prospects, is collecting phones. It’s a security protocol. There are no electronics allowed in church meetings. You never know who might be listening.

“Phones,” he says, holding out a wooden box.

I drop mine in without comment and push through the double doors. The chapel is our sacred space—a large room dominated by a massive wooden table carved with our club’s insignia. I move around to take my usual seat at Denali’s left as Sergeant-at-Arms.

The rest of my brothers file in one by one.

Beast and Yukon come in together, both looking like they’ve showered but the hard set to their jaws tells me they’re still riding the adrenaline high from earlier.

Swift—my father—gives me a nod as he takes his seat, his eyes asking a silent question about Demi that I answer with a slight shake of my head.

Titan and Denali are the last to enter. Titan’s fingers are stained with ink, and there are dark circles under his eyes—he’s been digging, and from the grim expression on his face, whatever he’s found isn’t good.

Once everyone is seated, Denali bangs the gavel on the table, calling the meeting to order.

“Brothers,” he begins. “We’ve got a shitload to deal with tonight.” His eyes find mine across the table. “Frankie?”

I sit up straighter, my jaw clenching. “Frankie and his enforcer have been disposed of. Their ashes are being scattered as we speak.”

Denali nods. “Good. You get anything out of him?”

“No. But Johnny squealed like a little fucking pig,” I say, my voice eerily calm despite the storm raging inside me. “The hit on our clubhouse was ordered by the Renegade Bastards. Rogue sees us as competition. He’s also joined ranks with the Valenciaga Crime Family.”

Murmurs break out around the table. I wait for them to die down before continuing.

“There’s more. They’re trafficking women and children across state lines.”

“Motherfuckers,” Beast mutters, his fist coming down hard on the table.

Titan clears his throat, drawing all eyes to him. “I’m afraid it’s bigger than that. I’ve been digging, and this isn’t just the Valenciaga family. The Russians are involved too. This operation stretches across the entire continental US.”

“Fuck,” Pee Wee says, voicing what we’re all thinking.

“They’re snatching women from clubs, street corners, even college campuses,” Titan continues, running a hand through his dark hair. “I think that’s why they were at Demi’s apartment.”

My blood runs cold. “What the fuck did you just say?”

Titan meets my eyes, his expression grave. “Since her dad couldn’t pay what he owed, they were planning to take her. Sell her to the highest bidder.”

The chapel falls silent as his words sink in. My vision starts to blur at the edges, rage threatening to consume me. I grip the edge of the table so hard my knuckles turn white.

“Easy, son,” my father says softly from across the table, recognizing the signs of my temper about to blow.

I force myself to take a deep breath, then another. Getting pissed won’t change anything. She’s safe. That’s what matters.

“There’s something else you should know,” Crazy Train speaks up, his usual energetic demeanor subdued. “We found Demi’s father.”

My head snaps up. “Where?”

“Floating in the river,” he says grimly. “Been there a day or two from the looks of it. He’s... It’s not good, brother. They tortured him. Demi shouldn’t see him like that.”

I scrub my hands over my face, letting that sink in. I’d expected Bobby’s body to be found eventually, but I’d hoped for Demi’s sake it wouldn’t be so brutal.

“Undertaker?” I look down the table. “Can you handle the cremation?”

He nods his head. “Yeah, man. Consider it done.”

“Thanks.” I need to protect Demi from this, shield her from as much pain as I can. She’s already been through so much. Seeing what those fuckers did to her dad will destroy her. I can’t let that happen.

Denali clears his throat, a subtle sign he’s moving our meeting forward. “Krypto, financials?”

Our treasurer straightens up, always ready with the numbers. “The run to Rochester was successful. Memo, Zeus, and Rambler brought back fifty K for the club coffers.”

Memo, our club secretary and lawyer, nods in confirmation. Rambler, our nomad who spends most of his time on the road connecting with other chapters, gives a small salute.

“Everyone’s money has already been deposited into your accounts,” Krypto adds.

Good. The extra cash will help with what I’m planning. Demi and I need our own place, somewhere away from the chaos of the clubhouse. Somewhere she can heal in peace.

“Anything else?” Denali asks, looking around the table.

When no one speaks up, he bangs the gavel again. “Meeting adjourned. Keep your eyes open, brothers. This shit with the Renegades isn’t over.”

As everyone starts to file out, I hang back with Denali.

“You good?” he asks, concern evident in his voice.

I nod. “Yeah. Just need to figure out how to tell Demi about her dad.”

He clasps my shoulder. “I don’t envy you, man.”

“Yeah.” She’s been strong for so long, taking care of her fuck-up father, working multiple jobs, never complaining. But everyone has a breaking point.

I give D a fist bump then head back upstairs. When I push open the door to my suite, I’m surprised to find Demi sitting up in bed, her hair a wild mess around her face and her eyes still cloudy from sleep.

She raises her arms above her head in a stretch, and hisses as the sheet falls to her waist, revealing her perfect tits. My cock stirs in my jeans, but I shove those thoughts aside. This isn’t the time for that.

Her eyes find mine, and immediately she knows something’s wrong. “What is it?” she asks, her voice rough with sleep.

I cross the room and sit on the edge of the bed, taking her small hand in mine. “They found your dad, Blue.”

Tears well up in her eyes and my heart cracks. It kills me when she cries.

“I want to see him.”

I shake my head, my thumb brushing away the first tear that falls. “No, baby. You don’t need to see him like that. I told Undertaker to cremate him.”

She crawls into my lap, her naked body pressing against me as sobs wrack her small frame. I hold her close, one hand cradling the back of her head while the other strokes up and down her spine.

“I want to scatter his ashes in the ocean,” she manages to say between sobs. “He always loved the beach.”

“I’ll take you when you’re ready,” I promise, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. When she’s healed, we can go to Jacksonville and give him a proper sendoff.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her tears soaking through my shirt.

We sit like that for a long time, her cries eventually subsiding into hiccups, then quiet sniffles. I don’t rush her, don’t try to tell her it’s going to be okay. Sometimes things aren’t okay, and that’s just life.

“I should have been there for him more,” she finally says, her voice small.

“You were always there for him,” I correct her. “More than he deserved.” I know it’s harsh, especially now that he’s gone, but it’s the truth. Demi did more for that fucker than he deserved.

She pulls back to look at me, her eyes red-rimmed but clear. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth,” I say firmly. “He was your father, but he wasn’t much of a dad, Blue. He let you down over and over.”

“He was still my dad,” she insists, a flash of fire in her eyes that I actually welcome. Anger is better than hollow emptiness.

“I know.” I brush her hair back from her face. “And you loved him. That’s why it hurts so much.”

She bites her lip, then nods. “Yeah.”

“I was thinking,” I say, changing the subject to give her a moment to collect herself. “We should start looking for our own place soon.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Already?”

I cup her face in my hands, making sure she’s looking right at me when I answer. “Yeah, Blue. The sooner the better. You’re mine. I’m yours. That’s it. Game over.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. “Game over, huh?”

“Completely,” I confirm, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to her lips. “I love you, Demi. More than I ever thought was possible.”

“I love you too,” she whispers against my lips. “Even when you’re being a bossy, overprotective asshole.”

I can’t help but laugh at that. “Which is most of the time.” I should probably be thanking the Gods that my need to control shit hasn’t sent her running for the hills.

“Yeah,” she agrees, but her smile widens. “But you’re my bossy, overprotective asshole.”

“Damn straight.” I pull her closer, careful of her bruised ribs. “And you’re my kryptonite.”

She laughs, her brows going up. “Your what?”

“My weakness,” I explain, pressing my forehead to hers. “The one thing in this world that could bring me to my knees. Yukon called you that after... after what happened with Frankie. Said I’d found my kryptonite.”

Understanding dawns in her eyes. “Is that a bad thing? Being your weakness?”

I think about it for a moment before answering. “I used to think so. Thought love was a liability in my world.” I trace the outline of her face with my fingertips. “But now I don’t care. I’d burn the whole fucking world down to keep you safe, Blue.”

Her lips pull up at the corners. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

I press my lips to hers then pull back and stare into her gorgeous blue eyes.

“Yeah, baby. Let’s hope.”