Page 8 of Perdition

Curses all around.

Red whistled, shaking his head, his penetrating gray-hazel eyes turned to lasers, burning through him.

“And in those two weeks, how often did you…offerSarah yourbrotherservices, since she’s so much like yoursisterand all?”

Frost was well aware of the tilted meaning of the words Red emphasized.

He wanted to tell the fuckface that he’d been too busy to spend much time with Sarah at all, but that would mean nothing…because hehadtaken hours of his day just yesterday to take her to the red maple. And because, if it really mattered to him, he would have spent any free time he had with the woman who’d earned that time from him; his wife. His Em.

But he hadn’t.

Still…he hadn’t done anything truly wrong; he hadn’t touched Sarah with anything but comfort in mind. Sure, she was a fucking bombshell—tits, ass, plump lips, big eyes, a sensual innocence, and a sharp mind that was so refreshing he often found himself searching for her when he needed a break from club business. But that was just talking, sharing about their days, sitting together, being comfortable, eating together—not once had he wanted to do anything but…be with Sarah.

NotEmily.

Sarah.

Nausea flooded him, even as guilt slithered up his spine to puncture his heart with venomous teeth.

“You said that being with Sarah is like how you and Em used to be, like back when you first got together, but, brother…how is that not you wanting to replace your woman with a younger model, one without all the mileage and responsibilities?” Patriot inquired, placing a hand on Frost’s shoulder.

Frost stiffened; the once familiar action, for the first time, was unwelcomed.

“It isn’t like that,” Frost snarled, pulling away from his friend, and turning to glare at the men he considered closer than brothers. “You don’t get it—I love Em, I married her, we have a great life together, but?—”

“There shouldn’t be abutthere, man,” Locust interjected. “You love Em, you married Em, end of. Sarah isnotyour wife, she is not yoursister; she is a fucking club slut who only deserves club protection, a clean bed, and a full belly. I don’t know when it happened, but you’ve got your mind and intentions twisted, ‘cause if you haven’t set eyes on your wife in two weeks, but Sarah is blowing up your phone and leaving ass prints in your office couch, then you have got the roles reversed, brother.”

Suddenly, the ability to breathe eluded him. Planting his hands on the conference room table, he braced himself, letting his head hang.

What the fuck was going on? Everything they were saying…it didn’t seem right. They didn’t get it—he didn’t have romantic intentions with Sarah, he just liked spending time with her.

Time you should be spending with your wife, asshole!

“Fuck!” he spat, thrusting his fingers through his hair, hair he should have gotten trimmed weeks ago, because Em was usually on his case about keeping it“just long enough to grip while you eat me.”Any longer than that and she ambushed him while he was in the shower, not letting him leave the bathroom until he let her go at him with the clippers.

But…he hadn’t even been home in over a week, hadn’t seen her in two weeks….

Yeah, fucker, a haircut is the least of your problems right now!

“I never meant for it to get like that—Sarah is not a replacement for Em; there’s no replacing Em.” God, how did he explain it without sounding like a total skeezeball? “With Sarah…I can just be me…not the MC prez, not a husband, not a father?—”

“So, basically, with Sarah, you can rewrite your life, and become a totally different person; not Madsen Flowers, respectable, loyal, dedicated, devoted husband and father, butrather simply a carefree, childless, bachelor who’s free to be ‘friendly’ with any woman he wants?”

“You’d rather go back and not become those things? Like never meet Em, never marry Em, never build your life and this MC with Em? Is that what you mean?” Patriot asked, his tone so dangerous it vibrated the air with potential violence.

A roar built in Frost’s throat, threatening to explode.

“That is not what I meant—fuck! You’re complicating every fucking thing!”

Red surged to his feet and planted a finger in the dead center of Frost’s chest.

“So let me make it simple for you,” Red drawled, his voice a rumble that sounded too much like disgust. “You walk into Em’s office, and she’s sitting on her office couch, thighs and shoulders touching, face inches apart, words hushed and gentle, with a man who isn’t you…you wouldn’t want to rip that asshole from his seat and beat the shit out of him?”

Picturing that, Frost’s chest tightening, his hands curling into white-knuckled fists.

“I’d tear off his fucking arms and beat him to death with his own hands,” Frost growled.

Red’s chuckle held no humor, but rather oozed darkness.