Page 38 of Perdition (Unchained Hearts #4)

TWENTY-THREE

Still reeling from that kiss—at her own nerve to kiss her estranged husband and at the kiss itself, Em swallowed thickly, her body thrumming, pulsing, begging for more.

She hadn’t kissed Mads in weeks, and she’d missed him fiercely.

Kissing him again…was like coming home…starving.

And she hadn’t wanted it to stop, had actually contemplated taking him home tonight to finish what she started, but then…

she quickly remembered where they were, and who was there, and cold water doused her, leaving only a lingering heat in her face and a growing wetness in her panties.

She peered up at Mads, who was looking down at her, his light blue eyes burning with banked fire, his expression one of edgy desperation and inhuman self-control.

Hell yes, he’d been as affected by her daring kiss as she’d been.

Lord, she wanted to kiss him again…and again and again and again.

No shame in that—he is your husband…even though he forgot that for a while.

Mads was the only man she’d ever kissed; her lips had only ever touched his, and it was the same for him.

Despite all the uncertainty, lies, insecurities, and betrayals, she believed her husband, now, when he said he hadn’t touched Sarah. With any part of his body.

A voice called her out of her mental fog.

“I can tell you how she knew about the scar, mole, and tattoo,” Redtube drawled, menace in his voice as he came up behind her.

Emily didn’t bother looking over her shoulder at Redtube. She knew the man was staring death and destruction at the woman before her, if the loss of color in her face, and the fear in her eyes were any indication.

“It’s not that hard to figure it out, Red—I fucked him, sucked his cock, and gripped that ass with my hands while he gave it to me good,” Sarah claimed, her voice rising to shrill levels.

Suddenly, Em was very aware of all the eyes seeing and ears listening to the drama upfolding.

Oh…hell. This wasn’t good.

One of the most important tenants of the Unchained MC’s charter was to keep club business to the club—no speaking club business where anyone could hear.

Right now, club business was all out there, and it didn’t matter how loud “Crazy Train” by Black Sabbath was playing over the sound system, people were staring… and they were absolutely eavesdropping.

Hell, three people were recording it on their phones.

Em glared at Val, mouthing, Stop it!

Val shrugged but didn’t do as ordered, the bitch!

Frost noticed the same thing, because he slapped Redtube on the back and said, “Let’s take this to the back. No eyes and ears back there.”

Sarah stomped her foot. “You’re not taking this anywhere! You can’t just brush this off because you don’t want people to know that you’re trading up and leaving this bi?—”

She didn’t get to finish her rant because Cluster stepped up behind Sarah and gripped her arm. Hard.

“Let’s go,” he commanded, the usual playfulness in his voice and demeanor nowhere to be found.

Sarah opened her mouth to argue, but one look from Frost had her slamming her lips shut. She hissed but allowed Cluster to lead her toward the back of the bar.

The rest of them followed, Em coming up last, her feet dragging.

So much—too much—was happening, had happened, and looked like would happen, and she didn’t know what to think or feel about any of it other than angry.

She was so tired of being angry—at Frost, herself, and her circumstances.

Frost stopped walking and turned, a hardness to his expression she knew well. It was his war face. And his eyes were filled with rage tempered with concern. He was pissed but he was also worried.

About her? About what she would think once everything was said and done, once they got what they wanted out of Sarah—because obviously Redtube found something that triggered club hostilities.

“You okay, babe?” he asked, warmth filling his eyes. “I know this is a lot?—”

She jerked a nod. “It is. A lot,” she admitted, sighing. “I want to blame all of this on you but…if what I’m suspecting is true, then…well…you aren’t totally the asshole in this situation.”

That made Frost smirk. “That’s an upgrade from cheating scumbag, so I’ll take it.”

She gave a soft chuckle, surprised that she can find levity with him about something involving him and Sarah.

Pigs are flying through a blizzard in Hell right now….

He leaned down to lay his forehead against hers, and she closed her eyes, reveling in the feeling of having that moment, just them, amidst all the drama surrounding them.

“I know this is tough, baby, but I promise to fix this…and then I’ll figure out how to get you to kiss me like that again…in private.”

She wanted to pull away, to put space between them, because her heart wanted that so, so much, but her mind was telling her the man couldn’t be trusted, that she needed to guard herself against the man she loved more than life itself.

“Mads…” she croaked, “there’s just?—”

“I know, my love, I still have a long way to go to earn those kisses back, but I promise you, I will do whatever it takes to get back in our home, back in our bed, back in your arms—and that tight as fuck pussy, and back into your heart—where I belong.”

She snickered. “Pussy then heart, huh? I see your priorities,” she teased.

He chuckled, the deep resonant sound making all her girly parts tingle.

“You know I love that pussy, baby, and I haven’t had a taste in a long time. I miss it…I miss you,” he said, then his expression sobered.

“I really am so fucking sorry, Emily,” he rasped, taking her face between his rough hands to press a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead.

God…she loved forehead kisses, sometimes more than hot, wet kisses. Forehead kisses weren’t about sex or dominance, they were about affection, adoration, one heart pouring into another.

They were concentrated hugs and cuddles, and Madsen William Flowers was an amazing forehead kisser.

This— this was the man she’d married, the man who touched her with reverence, and spoke to her like she was the only one in his whole world. This was the man she gave her body and life to; the man she built a life with. A man who hurt her…and was trying to heal what he’d wounded.

Sarah’s shrill voice calling for Frost shattered their special moment.

Nothing new there.

Tensing, she pulled away, and Frost dropped his hands, but his eyes remained on hers.

“Let’s get this shit over with, then you own me a conversation,” Frost proclaimed, grabbing Em’s hand, and dragging her down the hallway, away from the bar, and toward the back of the once industrial factory.

She had no idea what it once made, but the building itself was well maintained, otherwise Frost wouldn’t have allowed club funds to go anywhere near an investment on the bar.

He was a shit husband, but he was a great MC president.

That isn’t fair; he hasn’t always been a shit husband.

And that was true. In the beginning, he had been her dream boy come to life. All her daydream fantasies about that handsome, golden hero who swooped in, kissed her, slayed the monsters, and then galloped off into the sunset with her at his back had come true.

And then that boy grew into the sexiness, most dedicated, most adoring man—a warrior, a provider, a protector, and her one and only lover. She’s once felt so deeply honored to be his wife, so deeply humbled by his love, affection, and desire for her.

Where had all that gone?

Through a door on the left, they entered what looked like used to be a storage area for freight shipments.

It was mostly empty, but there were a few pallets of goods that were probably supplies for the bar.

Standing toward the middle of the room were five bikers, four biker’s women, and one seething former club slut.

“It’s about time you got here, Frost,” she shrieked, “these assholes are treating me like I’m the enemy, but I’m their fucking queen.”

“You’re crazy as a feral cat is what you are,” Cluster intoned, looking at Sarah like she’d grown a second head. Emily bet he was regretting ever sticking his dick anywhere near that particular club slut.

“I’m not crazy—tell ‘em, Frost! Tell them that I’m going to be your old lady and that they need to treat me like I’m fucking royalty.”

Whoa…Sarah was definitely out of her freaking mind, because she actually said all that without a flicker of confusion or deceit in her eyes. She, without a shadow of a doubt, believed every word she was saying.

She believed that she fucked Frost, and that he was going to divorce Emily, make Sarah his old lady, and they’d live happily ever after, ruling the Unchained together.

“You are nuts,” Em blurted incredulously, shaking her head.

Sarah sneered at her, taking in Em’s proximity to Frost, and then snapped, “Why can’t you just leave him alone? Isn’t it bad enough that you’ve trapped him for twenty years, and now that he has a chance to have a real woman by his side, you’re being fucking stingy!”

Stephie choked and cast wide eyes to Cilla, who had a hand over her mouth, no doubt to stifle her laughter.

Nadia and Val were staring, wide-eyed, at Sarah, who didn’t even notice; she was too busy glaring at Em who had just taken Frost’s hand in hers, linking their fingers together.

His hand was so big, so capable, so warm, and squeezed her fingers—their own personal signal that things would be okay, that their strength was shared.

This feels....

She didn’t have time to think of a clear answer before Redtube stepped forward, his hands planted on his narrow hips, his broad shoulders and thick arms making him a massive badass about to throw down a verbal beating.

“Did you know there were cameras all throughout the clubhouse?” he asked Sarah, who suddenly looked stricken.

Face pale, eyes wide, she cocked her head and replied, “So what if there are? What does that matter?”

Ooooo, was that fear Em heard in the skanks voice?