Page 135 of Making Choices

CUB: I’ve had to bring Hunter online to help

SLASH: Good

My duchess settles in the front passenger side and Bebe takes up a position in the rear, directly behind me. Awareness prickles over me, lifting the hair on the back of my neck. I flick my attention from Cherub to the rear vision mirror. The ballsy bitch stares back at me with a placid look on her face.

“It’s gonna be like that, is it?”

“I tried to say no.” Cherub apologises on behalf of my girlfriend.

Without bothering to correct her assumption, I reverse out of the garage.

Drowning in guilt, I’m unable to meet Cherub’s eyes when I feel her worried gaze burning hot over the side of my face. My obsession with Lilianna Mayberry has put her at risk. In my haste to secure her affections after Venom’s defection, I’ve miscalculated epically. Standard protocol dictates that the sergeant-at-arms has checks run on every new person to enter our sphere, yet I discarded that procedure because I was sure that Jack was the only danger to us.

It never crossed my mind that Bebe, a five-foot-tall trainee surgeon, could pose a risk.

After the way Cherub dispatched Alex on her own, it was a foolish miscalculation to make.

Women can be lethal.

I know this first hand.

When every set of stoplights on the way to the RAC arena stays green to let us through unimpeded, I know that Cub has his finger on the pulse. He clears our way, ensures that the lanes around us remain as close to empty as they can be on a Saturday night in an Australian capital city. A couple of times, I swear I even hear the rumble of Harley pipes nearby.

The drive is quick, yet my nerves continue to ramp up.

As soon as the stadium is in sight, I relax just a little.

We’re in the middle of Shamrocks turf now.

Then I feel the unmistakeable pressure of a muzzle nudging my side and my body tenses again. Glancing down, I see the snub nose of a revolver poking between my seat and the door. Bebe leans forward as she keeps her weapon aimed at me. My mind whirls, calculating the odds, trying to decipher all the ways this can play out, as I attempt to quickly determine how I can keep my duchess from finding herself in the firing line if Bebe decides to use her against me.

I pull into the side entrance Isaiah told us to meet him at.

Nadia moves to climb out and Cherub opens her door to exit the vehicle as well. Spying Venom waiting at the kerb, I nudge Cherub in the back, then hit the accelerator. She stumbles forward, straight into her ex-fiancé’s arms, as I speed off. Her door slams shut from the momentum. It’s a loud bang that resonates in my head. Like a gunshot, it’s a reminder of what’s at stake.

I take the next corner too fast, grinning when Bebe’s head slams against the window. Careening around the city streets, I allow the green lights to guide me as I search for a dark place to pull into.

Our showdown is going yield answers.

I’ll make sure of it.

“This isn’t going to end the way you think it will,” the mob bitch with a gun trained on me warns in a tight voice. “I’m in control here.”

“I dunno about that.” There’s a perverse sense of joy in me as I slam on the brakes to veer into an empty parking lot and Bebe smacks face first into the back of my seat. In the next instant, I throw my door open, then I draw the gun in my shoulder holster and train it on the redhead sitting in my Range Rover. “Get out.”

“No, thanks, I think I’m comfortable here.”

The crazy bitch settles back in her seat.

She preens like an evil queen, and my pulse kicks up.

An alternate pattern falls into place.

What if the green lights weren’t Cub’s work?

“Fuck.” Raising my arms in the air, I let my handgun fall so it hangs from my index finger by the trigger guard. “Step outta the shadows, you bastards.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Jack St. James announces.

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