Page 34 of Perdition

They were always together, the two of them, no matter where they dreamed life would take them.

And now, because of his pride, his arrogance, and his ignorance he was on the edge of losing those dreams. Of losing his greatest dream come true.

Emily.

The cell vibrating in his hand brought stole his thoughts, and he hesitated, dread filling him, before he checked the screen.

Redtube: Property valuation came back. Left it on your desk.

Shit. With all the fuckery he was dealing with—fuckery of his own making—he’d forgotten that he was waiting on the property valuation for the old clubhouse property in Erie. It was the Bone Dogz old compound, and it probably wasn’t worth the paper the valuation was printed on. It was two acres of patchy grass, cracked asphalt, and rusty buildings. The only thing that wasn’t covered in rust and regret was the president’s cabin, a privatebuilding Mad Dog had built using club funds in order to hide all the dirty dealings he was doing behind his brother’s backs.

This valuation, and then putting the property up for sale, was one step closer to finally putting the patch over behind him.

Fuck, he just wanted it to be over and done so he could focus on moving the Unchained MC forward.

Like that’s the only reason. You know this patch over has been slow, vicious poison in your marriage…because you’re too fucking proud and arrogant to let your brothers—men you supposedly trust—take part of the burden.

Fuck. He was all the way fucked up, and he was just now realizing it.

Bullshit. You knew, you just needed a ferocious kick in the ass to dislodge your head, and finally see the damage you’re inflicting on the people who love you.

Hissing in frustration at his own thoughts, he hit SEND on his reply.

The_Prez: Got it. I’m headed back now.

Because where the hell else could he go? He wanted to drive to Cheri’s place, pound the door down, snatch Em, and take her somewhere where she’d be forced to listen to him. Then, he’d tear off her clothes, make her come in his mouth, then wring his cock dry—twice.

Yeah, probably a good idea to take Sorsha’s advice, and give Em some space.

Because if he stormed over there right then, he knew Em would cut off his dick and feed it to him.

At that thought, instead of cringing, he cracked a smile. Em was a firecracker; all strength, sass, and determination. He could imagine her, knife in hand, glaring at him, and him cupping his balls in fear, his cock hard as a rock….

His wife was sexy as fuck any given day of the fucking week, but when that woman got truly riled up, she was like a fucking goddess—she glowed with an inner fire and innate sensuality that never failed to turn him on. He couldn’t count the number of times he’s started a fight with her just to make the sex hard, fast, and animalistic—all claws and teeth. Afterward, they were never surprised that they’d damaged or broken something in their savage hunger for one another.

At just the memory of their apex sex, his cock was thickening in his jeans, weeping for a pussy it hadn’t slid inside in far too long.

Maybe…maybe he should go to Cheri’s place and bang down the door—a pissed Emily was a horny Emily.

Usually.

Goddamn, he was sick in the head.

Fuck, he loved her.

He missed her.

He really fucked up with her.

Before he could mount his bike, a police cruiser SUV pulled up into the spot right next to him.

South Abington PD.

He was parked legally. He had a valid driver’s license. The registration on his bike was up to date, and he had kept his ass and hands clean for most of this life.

He didn’t count the shit he’d done for Uncle Sam.

The driver’s side door swung open, and a piece of shit, arrogant little prick with a badge slid out, his aviators and smirk firmly in place. He slammed the door shut, tugged up his utility belt—making sure to flash the Glock 19 strapped to it—and turned just right so that the badge on his chest glinted in the afternoon sun.