Page 191 of Seizing Control: Part One

Adrift.

Captive to my betrayal of Zeke, an infidelity that I cannot countenance.

“We’re being rude.” Forcing a giggle, I add. “They’re not stupid… it doesn’t take more than half an hour to pick out board shorts.”

“Fuck ’em.”

We stare at each other.

My husband’s suspicions flood his gaze while apology settles in mine.

In the nick of time, there is a knock, two bangs, a pause, a solitary knock.

Whirling around, I hurry past Slash. I pull open the door, smiling up at Toker like he’s my favourite person in the world. He is in this moment—his appearance saving me from upsetting my husband with my behaviour.

“Lil cuz,” Toker greets me. “Needa speak to your man.”

Heart pounding, head spinning, I’m hit with the answer to my strange reaction. I’m holding back the full force of my love for Slash out of some semblance of loyalty to my first love. My treachery is instinctual. A self-preservation tactic. I need Slash. He needs me.

We are only possible because our third piece was killed to save me.

Per usual, my soul seizes at the idea of Zeke being dead.

Disbelief makes my stomach churn.

Immediately, my brain chastises my heart for its stupidity.

“Chat away,” I tell my cousin after a too-long pause.

Forehead wrinkling when I try to move past him, Toker grabs my bicep to hold me in place, then he scans my face. Although I school my features, whatever he sees in my expression angers him. The attention my cousin directs toward his president is filled with censure. A narrow-eyed scowl darkens his expression as he enquires, “Had another call come through.”

Slash growls. “You’re fuckin’ kiddin’ me.”

I am caught in two minds.

On one hand, I want to stay and eavesdrop.

Another part of my psyche screams at me to run.

Yielding to my fear, I shake free of Toker’s grip.

It takes all my willpower to keep from breaking into a run as I walk away from the two club brothers. I reach the top of the stairs. My hand shakes when I grasp the balustrade. Step by step, I put distance between me and my husband. Meeting Nadia on the landing, I breathe a sigh of relief. Once I’m standing underneath the veranda, surrounded by my family and friends, the topsy-turvy feeling in my stomach recedes. As I sit on the edge of the pool with my legs in the water, and my best friend floating on her back in front of me, awareness prickles over my skin.

Unlike the other times when I feel like I’m being watched, it comforts me.

Makes me feel safe.

Brings me solace.

My gaze darts around the back yard.

From the back of the house to the rear fence.

I can’t see anyone who shouldn’t be here.

The sense of security deserts me when Slash strides out onto the patio an hour later. With his club brothers gathering around him, all of them dressed in dark denim, Shamrocks t-shirts, boots, and their cuts, they are clearly on a mission. Without prodding, the prospects disburse. Two to finish grilling our lunch. One ducks inside the house. Another replenishes the eskies with fresh ice. My husband approaches me as the other brothers hunt down their old ladies. His expression is apologetic, his touch rough, when he drops to his haunches next to me, and seizes hold of my throat.

“Needa go.” The big man’s breath fans over my face. “Club business.”

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