Page 24 of Perdition (Unchained Hearts #4)

FIFTEEN

His heart limping, his eyes burning, his hands shaking, he swiped his palm down his face, hating himself.

His cell chimed with another text, no doubt from Sarah who’d been blowing up his phone since just after he’d last talked to Em. He had no idea what the texts said, and he didn’t give a fuck.

That woman was poison.

It had just taken him too fucking long to realize he’d been infected. Defiled. Tainted.

And now, that infection, taint, poison had spread into his club…

and his marriage. The brothers had looked at him like they didn’t know him as he slunk through the common room to hide— fucking hide , because he couldn’t face what he’d done.

Couldn’t face what he knew Patriot and Locust were burning to say.

He’d already heard enough from Stallion tonight, for fucks sake.

And his marriage…fuck….

Em.

Madsen William Flowers had royally fucked up on the phone with Em.

He could admit it; he’d allowed his frustration about everything—his fear of losing Em, his family, his heart and soul —and his anger at himself for his fuck ups, and at Em for not giving him a chance to speak to her to take the wheel and drive.

More like take his mouth, grab hold of his tongue, and made it say shit he could never take back.

He’d actually told her that their red maple, one place on earth that meant more to them than any other place, was just a fucking tree!

Holy fuck, he’d really screwed up, and he’d known it the moment those words were out. But by then, it was too late, and his spiraling thoughts and emotions, and runaway train of words had already derailed, destroying everything in their path.

Like his marriage.

As soon as Em hung up on him, he was out of Cool Hands, on his bike, racing toward Em’s shop, hoping to catch her there, to hear what happened, why Sarah was there and what she’d said to Em.

He needed to see his wife with his own eyes, to wrap her in his arms, to beg her to let him hold her, to apologize for being a piece of shit and saying what he’d said.

Because he hadn’t meant any of it—what he’d said in his office to Sarah, and what he’d said to Emily.

The shop was dark when he got there, the only lights from the coolers where Em kept the more temperamental flower arrangements.

He called her.

Right to voicemail.

No surprise.

Fuck, he didn’t know where else to go because he knew that if set foot on Cheri’s property, that woman would put a bullet in his ass.

She’s barely tolerated him over the years, hating that Em was “stuck” married to a ghost who only came around to haunt her on leave.

And she hated that he’d dedicated so much time to the Unchained, rightly believing that all that focus left too little time and attention for Emily.

Fuck…the red flags had been there for years, and he’d been ignoring them. And Em had been building a life for them, loving him, supporting him, defending him….even when those flags were flying high.

Goddamn, he’d really fucked up.

A knock on his office door made him call out, “Come in,” even though he didn’t want to see or talk to anyone for the next however long it fucking took to get his wife back.

Clusterfuck stuck his head through the door way, concern and fuckery both playing in his expression.

“What?” Frost demanded.

Cluster wasn’t bothered by Frost’s tone; the man was impervious to ill regard, having no sense of shame whatsoever.

“We’re starting that bonfire, was wondering when you were coming out.”

At Cluster’s words, Frost furrowed his brows. “What bonfire?” He had no fucking idea what the man was talking about. “We celebratin’ something?”

Cluster shrugged. “Dunno. All I know is that Em had his load of logs dumped in the back. She told me to douse it in gas, and make sure you were here before we lit ‘er up.”

That dread, his constant companion over the last several days, rose to choke him.

“She was here?”

“Yeah. Couple of hour ago. Would have started the fire sooner, but you only just got here a bit ago, and I was busy with Kiki, so?—”

“Did she say where she got the wood for this bonfire?”

Cluster shook his head. “No. No clue, Prez.”

Pushing his chair back, Frost shot to his feet, a sickening, sour fear coiling in his guts.

He pushed Cluster aside and hurried out of his office and toward the back door, his heart in his throat, his body vibrating with tension.

Just as he burst through the door to the back yard—asphalt, gravel, and dead grass—Cluster shouted, “Dammit, Tony, I told you to wait until Frost was here!”

Tony had just tossed a lit book of matches into the pyre, and the flames caught immediately.

But it wasn’t the sight of the growing fire that made that animalistic sound of agony rip from his chest.

It was the sight of a carving he knew by heart, in a two-foot section of tree trunk that used to be part of a whole fucking tree.

“What the fuck!” he cried, shoving his trembling hands through his hair. “What the fuck !”

This couldn’t be happening—he couldn’t be seeing what he was seeing!

“Frost…Prez!” Cluster shouted. “What the hell?”

Frost ignored him, hurrying toward the now fully engulfed pyre. Without thought, without care, he reached for the log at the top?—

He was yanked back by hands denying him what he so desperately needed to do. He struggled, fought, cursed, and was brought to his knees several feet from the burning remains of the red maple tree.

“No! Let me go! I have to save it!” he bellowed, breathless, his body aching from the force of three sets of hands holding him down.

“Frost, fuck, what the hell are you trying to do?” Tornado demanded from Frost’s right side, where he was holding Frost’s shoulder and bicep, his grip too strong to break. “Whatever the hell you’re trying to get is gone, man. That whole thing is on fire.”

“Shit, Prez, what the hell is going on?” Cluster inquired with a seriousness Frost had never heard from him before. “When Em had this dropped here, I just thought she was getting rid of a tree for that tree dude friend of hers.”

On his knees, his arms secured to his sides, Horde’s massive hand on the back of his neck, Frost stared, tears sliding down his now soot-covered face.

“It’s gone,” he choked out, his throat burning from the heat, the smoke, and his own sobs. “She cut it down…it’s gone.”

Mads love Em 4-ever.

She’d cut down their tree.

It’s just a fucking tree….

He’s said those words, not meaning them, and she’d acted, quickly and efficiently proving him a liar. Because that had been more than just a tree to him…to them .

And now it was burning, the smoke rising into the twilit sky carrying their memories—their first kiss, their first brush of naked skin against skin, their first promises to one another.

Gone.

Devoured by flames and regrets too long past repentance.

In that moment, the heart in his chest, just as the heart lovingly carved into that wood, turned to ash.

Her forehead pressed against the steering wheel, her hands gripping ten and two with white knuckles, Em expelled a breath that was so ragged, she swore the windows vibrated from the discordance.

Never in her life had Em been more thankful for a phone call, because this one stopped her from making one of the biggest mistakes of her life.

Yes, her husband was more than likely a cheating bastard, having been seduced by the young, tight, slutty, bitchy, skinny, flawless Sarah—and her big store-bought tits, and her bouncy silicone ass.

Why shouldn’t she get a kiss from a man who was attracted to her—to her , the older, plumper, worn down, lackluster mother of two?

She was almost thirty-seven, had seen and heard and experienced enough to know what attraction looked like, so she wasn’t totally clueless about why the sexy, handsome, gorgeous, golden god younger man was coming around her shop more and more often.

He flirted, complimented, and she’d caught him staring a few times.

Honestly, his attention felt good—who wouldn’t blush and stammer when a gorgeous man in uniform gave them their total attention?

Because that smile of his…. She shuddered, even now, thinking about it.

But she’d brushed it off every time before, appreciating his appreciation. She was a married woman, in a committed relationship with a man who’d tear out the good officer’s throat with his teeth if he ever thought that man was touching what Mads had claimed.

But Mads isn’t that same man anymore, is he?

He’s Frost.

The MC president.

No longer Madsen Flowers, the once gentle, loving, adoring husband and father and American warrior he once was.

What had changed?

You did.

You’re no longer young, pretty, skinny, or as carefree as you once were.

As Sarah was now.

Despite all that, though…she couldn’t bring herself to let Officer Bradley Copper kiss her in the liquor store.

She’d been tempted…for about a second, until her heart caught up with her body. One yearned for the man who owned it, the other yearned to just be wanted…touched and worshipped.

Too long she’d been without intimacy; lonely, unwanted, undesired, cuddling with pillows that no longer smelled like Mads, and fiddling her diddle with accessories she bought on Adam & Eve months ago, once the fire between her and Mads had begun to fizzle.

And how the hell had that happened?

Madsen Flowers, forty, still worked out four times a week to keep that big, beautiful, strong, masculine, hard as hell body in perfect shape.

He was a dad but he did not have a dad bod.

His six pack was still etched from stone—complete with that brain scrambling deep V that directed viewers to his massive cock.

His arms were thick and strong, complete with corded muscles that made his veins pop.

Oh…and those pecs—God, they could make anyone drool.

Defined, dusted with dark blond hair, and tattooed with ink that never failed to make her want to lick.

There wasn’t an inch of Mads that didn’t draw the eye, wet the panties, or revv the lady engine.