Page 52 of Unhinged

CHAPTER FORTY

ACID

The whole damn clubhouse feels like it’s holding its breath. All eyes locked on that dartboard, on the three standing in front of it. Brydgett, Suave, and Nitro.

Last round. Last dart.

Nitro's sitting at twenty-eight. Suave's clinging to forty-one. Gidge? Our girl is sitting pretty at sixty. She just needs to hit the triple twenty—that tiny red bastard in the middle ring—to wipe the floor with these fools.

I lean back against the bar, arms folded, heart beating like a damn war drum in my ears.

She's all laser focus, tongue peeking out between her teeth like she doesn't even notice the whole damn club watching.

She throws. Smooth as sin. The dart sails through the air and—thunk—buries dead center in that triple twenty.

Sixty points.

Game.

The whole place explodes—brothers whooping, stomping boots against the floor, smacking tables. Nitro cusses. Suave groans like he just got stabbed.

Nitro goes next, and it’s too damn high—clips the twenty-four. Suave follows, but he flinches on the throw and hits the fifty-seven, way too low.

Gidge, smug little shit, finger-guns the crowd, spins on her heel and throws her arms around both of ‘em. "Next time, fellas," she says, all sugar and bite. "Now pay up."

They grumble but reach for their wallets like good losers. Hand over a crisp hundred each. She tucks the bills into her bra like a goddamn hustler, and I can't stop laughing. I shake my head.

"Well, boys," I say, pushing off the bar, "guess it's time for me to tell our omega what I did. Pray for me. If she looks like she's gonna stab me, just make sure she don't hit anything critical. Like my heart or dick. I need those."

The brothers laugh, but I ain't joking. Gidge is a whole storm wrapped in a tiny body. You cross her wrong; you feel it.

I grab her hand, twirl her around into me, her laugh bubble-light against my chest. She's beaming up at me like she just found a new game to win. Her scent wraps around me, thicker now, sweet and sharp and pure omega, making my skin itch with the need to pull her closer.

"Quite the dart shark, baby," I murmur.

She shrugs, a little shy. "Played a lot between training sessions at the gym."

Before I can say more, Gears slides up behind her, bold as hell, sandwiching her between us. His mouth dips low by her ear. A low rumble slips out of me before I can stop it, instinct clawing up, wanting everyone to see she’s ours.

"What about this, omega?" he murmurs, his voice a rough scrape that makes my damn spine stiffen. "You like being between your alphas?"

Gidge shivers, just the tiniest bit, as his hands trail slowly down her arms and stop at her wrists. She nods, so small it’s barely there.

"Rumor has it," he says, "your heat’s coming fast. Was someone a naughty little omega, stealing things for her nest today?"

"Yes," she breathes.

"Why didn’t you tell us?" I ask, voice lower now.

She blinks up at us, lashes fluttering. "’Cause... I haven't had a heat since… that night. I've been on suppressants and blockers. I didn’t know…"

My hands fist at my sides.

"You didn’t think we’d want to ride your heat out with you?" Gears growls low, nipping at her ear. "You're ours, Brydgett," he rumbles. "We've given you time. We’ve given you space. But you’re our Kismet. We’ll be there for your heat. Fuck you slow or fast—whichever way you need."

She lets out a sound, small and broken and needy.

"Is that what you want, baby?" I say, feeling Arrow move up beside me now. "You want your alphas to fuck you through your heat?"

She nods.

"Words, Gidge," Arrow demands.

"Yes," she pants. "I want that."

"We’ll have Mom take care of Judge," Arrow says, all business now. "He’ll be fine. But no omega of ours is suffering her heat in the clubhouse with all these fucking vultures around. You’re a biker queen, baby. You deserve better."

She peers up at me, curiosity gleaming in her eyes.

"Don’t worry, Gidge," I promise, thumb stroking her jaw. "You’ll see. We’ll show you tomorrow."

"Okay," she whispers, trust so raw it damn near kills me.

I steel myself. This is it.

"Gidge," I say, rubbing the back of my neck, nervous as a schoolboy. "I did something. And you’re probably gonna be real mad. But I want you to remember—I just want what’s best for you. For you and that boy."

She narrows her eyes. "What did you do, Acid?"

I take a deep breath. "I’d even go as far to say… I love you, Brydgett."

She sucks in a breath so fast it whistles through her teeth. She doesn’t say it back—I don't expect her to. Probably never heard those words from anyone but Judge or Ike.

"I called that school you wanted to send Judge to," I say, rushing to get it out before I lose my nerve. "Paid the tuition. For the rest of this year. And next. He can start whenever you're ready."

Her eyes go huge. Her lip quivers. Pissed. Trying to keep it together.

"He's my fucking kid, Titus," she hisses.

I wince. Yeah. Knew that was coming.

"Gidge, you wanted him to go there. It's safer. He wants to go."

"You had no right," she whispers, voice cracking.

"He's the son of my omega," I growl. "If I got any say—he's our son. I wanna give him our last name. Adopt him, if you'll let me. But even if you ain't ready for that yet, let me help."

Tears pool in her big green eyes. Breaks my goddamn heart.

"You mean that?" she breathes.

"Mean what?" I ask, voice thick.

"You wanna adopt him? Give him your last name?"

Before I can answer, Arrow steps in, solid as a wall.

"You’re our omega, Brydgett," he says. "That makes him our son, whether we made him or not."

"We’re gonna keep him safe," Gears adds, voice low and sure. "Same way we’ll keep you safe. Promise, Gidge."

"Okay," she breathes.

She stands on her tiptoes, and I lean down, catching her mouth with mine. When we break apart, she giggles, breathless.

"We'll talk about you knowing my legal name later, baby," I growl, pretending to be mad.

"Deal," she says, grinning wickedly, the fire back in her eyes.

Yeah. Ours. All ours.

Mayhem comes busting through the door, looking winded and mad as hell.

"Prez, there's a group pulling in. I tried to stop them, but they drove right through the barricades. Three vehicles. Four bodies—three male, one female."

"Well, do you know who the fuck they are?" Gears barks.

"No, sir. I asked what they wanted, and they said they had business with the Renegade Queen."

"Fucking hell," Arrow growls.

"Boys!" I cut the music and shout, "Arm up! Let's go!"

Every brother grabs a gun from somewhere—the room, their waistbands, wherever—and heads for the door. All of them ready to tear whoever dared come for our omega apart.

Brydgett's smiling ear to ear, skipping right after Gears.

She’s reckless with it, her scent getting sweeter, heavier; making every alpha in the room twitch and glance her way. Too close to heat. Too fucking tempting.

"Mayhem, how the hell did you get here before they did if they drove past you?" I ask, hoping to God he ain't a rat.

"They gave me a five-minute head start after they smashed the barricades. Said they wanted to see your faces when you saw who it was."

"Who the hell?" I mutter.

Gears whirls around, nose to chest with Gidge.

"Stay here, woman. I don't need you out there in danger until we know what's what."

She pats his shoulder, darts around him.

"I believe they said they're here for the Renegade Queen, and that's me, is it not?"

She's out the door, and we're hot on her heels.

A black F150 screeches to a halt twenty feet away, followed by a hot pink Eclipse Spyder and a silver sage Suburban.

First one outta the Suburban is Franko. Thick-built bastard, wearing a red plaid shirt under a black leather cut.

His hair is buzzed short on the sides, dark and neat, with a sharp little goatee.

Same cocky fucking smirk he always wore, like he owns every patch of dirt he walks on.

Chin up, arms loose, like he is not worried about a goddamn thing.

I know Franko—and I still don’t like the way he is smiling, like he is about two seconds from selling us something and robbing us blind while we thank him for it.

A man from the truck and a male and female from the Eclipse follow.

"What a welcome! Gears, my man, you know how to throw a fucking party!" Franko calls out, grinning wide like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

"The fuck are you doing here, Franko?" Gears snaps.

"Came to see an old friend," he says, all smiles.

"You ain't got no friends here," Gears spits.

"That ain't true. I'm looking at one of my oldest friends right now."

"Who?" Arrow voices.

"You gonna stand there all night looking at me or come give me a hug?" Franko opens his arms wide.

Gidge steps forward, runs straight at him, jumps into his arms.

My whole damn body locks up. Gears goes stiff beside me, a low rumble vibrating his chest. Arrow tenses, jaw flexing hard enough I hear it pop. Every alpha instinct I got screams to yank her outta his arms—to remind every son of a bitch here who she belongs to.

Only thing stopping me is the way Gidge smiles, like she's not scared. Still don't mean I ain't two seconds from gutting him.

Then she squeals and hugs the blonde woman from the Eclipse. She’s all long legs and curves. Tight black tank, ripped jeans, hair a mess of honey waves. She’s already smirking like she knows she's the hottest thing in the lot.

"Omega?" Gears snaps. "What the fuck is going on?"

"I invited a few friends to the party," Gidge says, all nonchalant.

"How the fuck do you know this asshole?" I ask. My vision goes red for a second.

I take a step forward without thinkin', ready to tear that fucker apart for putting his hands on what's mine. Gears catches my arm, fingers digging in like iron.

"Easy," he growls under his breath, voice tight.

Arrow’s right there too, blocking me from making a scene, but his eyes are just as dark, just as full of murder. Doesn't matter that Gidge is laughing—doesn’t matter that she ain’t scared.

She’s ours.

And no motherfucker gets to touch her but us.

"Me and Franko go way back. He's from my hometown. I worked for him for a while when I was homeless. Candy here gave me my first ultrasound. Then I hit the road and came here."

"And he's here now, why?" Gears asks.

"One, they brought your sister's new car. She said she'd give me my car back if she got a pink Eclipse, so voila! Two, Franko has information you want. Nikola said Franko got his shit from The Father and I asked him to dig up what we need."

"I've about had it up to here with your fucking secrets, Omega," Gears growls, throwing a hand up to mark the height of her bullshit.

Gidge just laughs.

"Gotta keep you on your toes. Plus, can't let you get too complacent, can I?"

"Well, come in then, asshole. But you try to shoot me again, I'll fucking kill you," Gears growls.

Franko laughs deep and loud. "I'd like to see you try."

We all head inside straight to Gears' office, but not before telling Franko's two men and our brothers they can resume the party.

Us? Gidge, Franko, Candy?

We got business to handle.