“We have a problem,” I say before he gets a chance to.

  Massaging the nape of his neck, Kai chooses his next words carefully. “Yeah. We do. Viper and Oz already brought all the women into the clubhouse as a precaution.”

  I glance down at Kit and expect her to be overcome with worry. She is female, after all. New to this life. Only, all I see is trust in her eyes. An expression of love and acceptance.

  “Go.” She releases my hand, and I’ve never been more grateful to have picked this woman as my partner in this life and the next. Not wanting to leave without a proper kiss, I cup the back of her neck and plant a quick, hot, and heavy one right where it belongs. When I pull back, she’s a beaming soft-eyed vixen. Absolutely gorgeous.

  “I love you.” I boop her nose. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Do not leave the clubhouse. Any of you. Yeah?”

  “Yeah... and I love you too,” Kit replies, more than willing to follow my orders without a fight.

  I picked a damn good one.

  Knowin’ if I don’t take care of business now, they’ll have to tear me away by my teeth, I shut the door in my wake and stop in the hall to get briefed by Kai on what’s doin’.

  “We have a breach,” he explains.

  On a nod, I reply, “I assumed as much.”

  “It’s not what you think.”

  “It probably is.” You don’t have a wedding with a fuckton of Sacred Sinners in attendance when you’re at war if you don’t expect shit to pop off. Big and I knew what could happen. That’s why the new security system got installed. That’s why I called our brother’s down at the Texas chapter and requested they send Kade and Rosie to stake things out during our wedding as a precaution. We’re not stupid. We knew the risks. Sure, I wasn’t about to disclose any of that to Kit, or she’d had wanted to postpone our nuptials or elope. I wasn’t gonna let that happen.

  We’re as prepared as we’ve ever been.

  “Weapons?” I prompt Kai on the way out of the rear clubhouse door, into the middle of my wedding reception, or what’s left of it. Chairs have been shoved to the side. The aisle is gone. Flowers scattered across the grass. The fire’s still roaring and tinkly lights the women strung illuminate the backyard. Brothers have gathered in a circle. Around what? That’s the question.

  They part down the middle to let me and Kai through.

  In the center, kneeling in the grass, bawling his prissy-bitch eyes out, is a naked Malcolm—our longtime prospect. The one we took in out of respect after Bink was kidnapped by her mother, and he helped get her out. The southern motherfucker who rocks a cowboy hat. The man Big despises and refuses to patch in as a brother.

  Behind him, pressing the tip of a gun to the back of the asshole’s skull is our prez, far calmer than I expect him to be in situations like this. Grinding his jaw, Big pulls a flip phone from his front pocket and tosses it to me. I catch it midair and scan through the messages giving details to an unknown number about our compound, the people who live here, and the security systems.

  Ah.

  He’s the reason we were infiltrated months ago.

  A rat.

  A nasty piece of shit rat under our very noses.

  A…

  I come across an address.

  A familiar address I sent flowers to once upon a time.

  “You’re the reason my woman got kidnapped and raped and...” The vein in my forehead pulses as I take a step closer to the traitor. He’s the reason Niki is dead. He’s the reason Beth lost her innocence. He’s the goddamn reason Jade and Loretta…

  Red clouds my vision as I slam my fist into Malcolm’s jaw, sending him sprawling into the grass. He lands on his hands and knees, blood flowing freely from his mouth. Not givin’ a single fuck who sees me, I kick the slimy bastard in the ribs. Dropping onto his back, clutching his side, Malcolm cries out in pain. Looming over the piece of shit, I step on his throat and apply pressure, not enough to do much, but enough to communicate he’ll die soon. Very, fucking soon.

  “How long have you known?” I rumble, speaking directly to our prez.

  Re-holstering his gun inside his cut, Big widens his stance and crosses both arms over his chest. “I’ve had my suspicions for a while.” He lifts his stubborn chin.

  “And you didn’t tell me.” Fury thrums through my words.

  “No. The less you knew, the better.”

  “Why?”

  “’Cause you weren’t ready.”

  Right.

  “Ready for what? The truth?” I thunder.

  Ever the mediator, Bonez steps out of the crowd into the open circle and spits on the rat. Then he turns to face me. “The club was attacked, brother. The day after, you find out you had a kid you never knew about. Then Kit was kidnapped while you’re on a run, along with Niki and Beth. You were fucked up. You didn’t see what you were like at the farmhouse the night shit went down. Or what followed for weeks after. Then you were shot when they were rescued. Not to mention Adam, Niki dyin’, the infection, Kit healin’, and all the other shit.”

  Look… I fuckin’ get it. It was a shit show. I was a mess.

  “Fair. But what does that have to do with this?” I gesture to the traitor. The goddamn narc.

  “I couldn’t tell you,” Big explains as if that’s somehow okay. It’s not. None of this shady shit is. He kept this from me on purpose.

  “So, you tell me on my wedding day, instead?”

  Big nods toward the phone in my hand. “Look at the last message he sent.”

  Goin’ back through the burner, my foot still on the asshole’s throat, I read the latest text aloud, “They’re riding in today. Wear the cuts to blend in. After the ceremony, you know what to do.”

  Shouldering his way through the crowd, Kade enters the party with his old lady in tow. Decked out in all black, her blonde hair covered in a matching black beanie, Rosie dumps a small trash bag upside down next to the rat. Four human hearts bounce across the grass. One hits him in the ribs, leaving a bloodied mark on his flesh.

  Malcolm trembles in wide-eyed horror as he observes the gifts they’ve brought.

  Ever the showman, Kade extracts a still-bloodied knife from its sheath and twirls it between his fingers. “We had fun together, me and my old lady. It was a great bonding experience, wasn’t it, Swan?”

  Not one to show emotions, Rosie nudges the organs toward the rat with the tip of her boot. “These belong to you.”

  Malcolm moans in distress and tries to squirm away from the body parts.

  Fuckin’ pussy.

  I press down harder. He starts to choke and gasp for air. It’s annoying. I let up when I tire of hearing the disgusting, pitiful sounds.

  “And soon there will be five,” Kade cackles like a sadistic motherfucker, pointing to Malcolm with the tip of his blood-caked blade.

  “Remy sent four men?” I ask Rosie, the saner of the two.

  “Seven,” Kade replies, bouncin’ on the balls of his feet, jacked up from his kills. “But I—”

  “He got a little too carried away,” Rosie answers, side-eyeing her man.

  “Whoops.” Wearing the widest and craziest of smiles, Kade mimics what he did with the other hearts by squeezing his fist together and shaking it in the air with manic flourish.

  I nod once. “Right.” Kade had a little too much fun like Kade usually does. Not surprising. Leaving that as that, I face Big to figure out what’s next. “So, Prez, what are we gonna do with the rat?” Since he’s been keepin’ this from me, perhaps he’s already got a plan.

  Prez shrugs as if he doesn’t give a damn. “That’s up to you and Blimp. Your old ladies were the ones taken. He had a hand in it. I already killed the men who fucked with Bink. He’s yours.”

  Alrighty then.

  “What about White Boy?” I throw out, ’cause Jade was taken, and she’s family to all of us. Especially him.

  Apparently, Big has already thought that through too, when he explains, “Jade’s not his old lady, and Loretta’s his mom, who’s already been claimed by Blimp.”

  Lumberin’ his way into the circle, a glowing blunt between his lips, Blimp points toward the shed where the torturing goes down.

  Sure. That works for me.

  “String him up,” I order to whoever’s listening. “Don’t forget to stuff, then tape his mouth shut to keep him quiet. We’re not touchin’ him tonight. I’ve got a new wife to feed and dance with. He’ll survive ‘til morning. That work for you?” I gesture to Blimp so we’re on the same page.

  Plumes of smoke rise from Blimp’s lips as a far-too-happy smile parts his long, overgrown beard. “Perfect, brother. Sounds perfect,” he singsongs.

  Doin’ what brothers do, they peal the naked dickbag off the grass as I remove my foot from his throat. Malcolm begs like a little bitch, then screams for mercy as I depart to make good on my promises to my woman.

  Next on the list.

  Feed my woman.

  I didn’t request we have fried pickles and homemade ranch for just anyone.

  Malcolm will die in the morning.

  Ya know, as a post-wedding present to me.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  KIT

  I’m a married woman.

  Sitting on a couch in the clubhouse common room, I’m keenly aware of my new reality as my new sisters pull up chairs to chat as if the lockdown is a normal, everyday occurrence around these parts.

  Welcome to the life as a Sacred Sister.

  Seated beside me, Bink pats my raw, grass-stained knee. “Everything’s gonna be fine,” she attempts to reassure.

  Across from us, lounging unladylike in a plastic chair, Jez nods twice as if agreeing with Big’s old lady. “No gunfire is good news. Plus…” trailing off, the rhinestone, pantyhose-wearing woman, points to the double front doors and the two Sacred Sinners standing watch outside of them. “They’re talking. Not armed. With Gunz’s new security system and with as many brothers we have here for the wedding, if it was a big deal, we’d be locked in bedrooms, and they’d be ready to kill,” she explains, as if this is an ordinary conversation.

  Out of my depth, I nod to express I’m following along because what else do you say? I’m glad nobody’s shooting. I mean... There are no words.

  Not finished, Jez points to my son, standing guard by himself at the hall exit. “Oz is only there to keep us from leaving the room. Some of us don’t listen to orders.” The feisty big, boobed sister cuts Bink a knowing look.

  The blonde beside me shrugs as if she’s not about to argue. “Not all rules and orders are meant to be followed.”

  Debbie snorts from her spot at the bar.

  Loretta cackles from the pool table, where she plays a round with Jade.

  And I observe because I have nothing else to add. The sisters lapse into mini conversations about times like these. Bink reminisces on the time a crazed woman shot Big. There’s something about food poisoning. Another from her childhood.

  Getting up from the couch, I leave them to their stories and approach my son.

  Swallowing up the entire doorway with his size to keep all of us in and everyone else out, Adam looks far beyond his early twenties in his new leather vest, tight, dark denim jeans, and plain white t-shirt. My boy sure has grown up.

  Not knowing protocol when we’re on lockdown and not wanting to get him in trouble for disrupting his duties as a prospect, I pause a few feet from him. He is a brother, and I’m an old lady. Not his mom. Not right now. Even if that is a load of crap. Still, I know my place, or at least I think I do. I’m trying.

  Hands clasped in front of me, I’m the first to speak. “Do you think you can reach out to yo—Gunz?”

  Amused by the way I’ve addressed him, Adam mashes his lips together, and straightens his shoulders before schooling his features and replying, “Mom, I’ll text Dad. Did you forget your phone?”

  I sweep a hand down the length of my body. “No proper place for it. Plus, I didn’t think I’d need it today.”

  Adam’s head bobs in understanding. He pulls out a phone from his vest to fire off a text.

  Looking around for eavesdroppers, I lean in, so nobody else can hear, and whisper, “I don’t know how I’m supposed to address you and stuff… when you’re… ya know…” I point to his official vest. Somewhere beneath all that leather, he’s packing a gun. The men talk about it over dinner sometimes. Apparently, Adam has a decent aim. Not sure a mother wants to hear those things about her son when it pertains to illegal activities. Then again, I’d rather he be safe than sorry.

  A smirk lifts the corner of Adam’s full lips, highlighting a dimple I don’t see often. “I am your son.” His blue eyes dance with mirth.

  “I know.”

  “You can always address me as your son, Mom.”

  Alright. Good to know.

  “And… Gunz?” I check, still whispering.

  “He’s my dad. I’ll worry about what I need to call him and when. You don’t need to worry about that stuff.”

  Okay.

  Also, good to know.

  “Unless I’m in the middle of club business, you can talk to me whenever ya need or want to,” Adam tacks on.

  “This isn’t active club business?” Again, I indicate where he’s standing. He escorted the women in here for a reason. He’s standing in the doorway for a reason.

  “Not the kind I’m talkin’ about, Mom.”

  “Right.” Of course.

  Adam reads a message on his phone. “Dad’s on his way inside now.”

  “Is he okay?”

  “I’m fine, love.” Gunz’s voice carries from the hall, his bootheels scraping the floor with each step. Our son steps to the side to give his dad room to pass. He clasps Adam on the shoulder, sharing a quick moment before he’s in front of me, red-faced and… I glance at his hands as he opens and closes them in tight fists down at his sides. The right one is jacked up. There’s blood on the top of his boots.

  “What happened?” I ask, looking up at his face for answers.

  Fitting my front to his, his feet on either side of mine, Gunz slides a muscled arm around my waist and brushes his lips across my forehead before kissing me there. “I can’t tell you, love.” His hot breath fans across my skin, making me shiver.

  Lookin’ down, I finger the edge of his belt buckle. “Club business. I get it. I watched—”

  My biker cuts in with a groan. “Sons of Anarchy,” he deadpans.

  Ever the observer, Adam snorts a laugh.

  “You don’t have to sound so grumpy about it.” I poke his rock-hard abs.

  Emitting the world’s heaviest sigh, Gunz’s body relaxes against mine, his tension deflating like a balloon. He draws tiny circles across my lower back. “I’m not, love. They’re cleanin’ up outside, so we gotta wait here for a few minutes. Big will come get us whenever they’re ready.”

  Cleaning up outside. I wanna ask what they’re cleaning up but think better of it. Club business. Not my business.

  “But we’re okay?” I need to hear him say it. Over his cotton shirt, I trace the valley of Gunz’s abs with my fingertip.

  His boots nudge the outside edges of mine. “Yes, love. We’re safe. We’re okay.”

  “Are you?” His fist doesn’t look okay. Those boots are dotted with blood. I have two eyes. I notice shit.

  “Yes.”

  Tilting my head back to look him in the face, I eye him skeptically. “Promise?”

  “I promise.” He pecks the tip of my nose and smiles like he wants to kiss me a thousand times more.

  The lovestruck fool I am smiles back, despite my unease. He’s been through a lot. We’ve been through a lot. I don’t want anything to sour our wedding day if I can help it. Not for me, but him. This is a first for Gunz. Whether he’ll admit it to me, let alone himself, this was a giant step for the forever bachelor. Not to mention the brand and the tattoo that came after.

  Trust me, I’m gonna give him shit for it later. At the right time. Who burns their skin and never tells their partner they’re doing it? Apparently, him. The tattoo I get. The other, he’ll have to explain. Bink said it was a tradition when she urged me to pull up my big girl panties and stand by my man even if I didn’t like it. I did. I stood by him like I always will.

  I mean, it ended in an incredible round of sex. My pussy is sore. The pleasant kind of sore. Tomorrow morning, we’ll have to see the level of damage Gunz wrought. The bite marks and hickeys across my shoulders and neck are already brands upon flesh. The number of fingerprints on my ass are sure to paint an interesting picture. Perhaps we can play connect the dots with them, after Gunz spends an hour apologizing for getting carried away. That’s how it typically works.

  Apologies, followed by orgasms.

  I can’t decide if it’s the guilt that makes him atone for his actions, thus wanting to bring me subsequent pleasure. Or it’s his marks that turn him on, and the orgasms are a byproduct of his arousal. Perhaps it’s a smidge of both.

  A set of soft, warm lips encased in a delicious beard drag across my sensitive neck. “You’re thinkin’ an awful lot, love.”

  Laughing quietly at how attentive my husband is, I inhale and get a high-octane hit of all that is Gunz—leather, spice, cinnamon. Cupping the back of his neck, I hold him to my flesh. “Of course I am.”

  His hand slips up my skirt and grips my ass. “Should I make good on what I forgot?” Gunz yanks me flush against him. His thick cock, ready and willing, prods my belly through the denim—a naughty promise of what’s to come.

  Fisting the front of his shirt, I shudder. “Not right now.”

  He nuzzles beneath my ear. “You sure?”

  “Yes. I’m sure. Don’t we have food to eat? And… maybe you’ll dance with me.” I tack on the last part, timid but hopeful. We never discussed dancing together.

  Never one to let me down, Gunz pries himself away on a disappointed growl. Rubbing my hands up and down my arms, I glance around the common room. The sisters have left, and Adam too. Guess we were a little too preoccupied in our bubble to notice. Not that I’m surprised. It’s a common occurrence.

  Gunz hooks his thick, muscled arm through mine and escorts me from the clubhouse common room through the halls and out the back door. Only then do I realize how many brothers are in attendance—over fifty or sixty I’ve never seen before. All of them busy drinking and chatting with various women and each other.