Page 51 of Seizing Control: Part One

Does Zeke see the same synchronicity that I do?

Can he admit to himself that we’re bound together?

Will he agree that this was inevitable?

Because the more I think about the events that lead us to this moment, my belief in us is solidified, even as it fractures under the weight of their inability to accept that my love for another isn’t a denial of my love for them.

The bond the two biker brothers share might be of the platonic kind, but in some ways, that makes it even deeper. Their connection is enhanced by trust, not sexual chemistry, and it’s that carnal element between me and them that, as red-blooded men, will be the catalyst for the upcoming war. Despite my best intentions, the ultimatum I’ve been circumventing is stalking me down with lust in its heart and sin in its soul. They’ll demand that I choose between them. And when I refuse to choose one over the other, they’ll battle to make the choice for me.

The Shamrocks will splinter further.

Slash, Zeke, or maybe even both of them, will end up dead.

My father will succeed in his plans—to remain as the president of the MC and also in allying us to the Maddison clan. I’ll find myself married to Hugh St. James without an escape. Sander will be forced to patch-in to the club before he’s ready. The toll this will take on Everett and my younger brothers is unthinkable.

Then there’s Toker’s safety to consider.

Cub.

Hunter.

Isaiah.

Crystal and Angelis.

Charlie.

My uncles.

So many lives are at risk thanks to my wayward heart and two headstrong men.

As quickly as the reality of the unavoidable peril we face settles over me, I feel it dawn on everyone else in the bar. Zeke bristles with rage at my duplicity. My cousin stiffens with indecision as he finds himself caught between his childhood friends, his cousin, and his patch. Jutting his chin proudly, Slash appears to welcome the violence that seems imminent as Zeke’s temper surges toward boiling point, but instead of another punching match erupting, we’re greeted with a tirade from Bebe.

I’ve been aware of her in my periphery. Soaking up the chaos she’s unleashed, Bebe’s been standing off to the side, watching this exchange with an inquisitive gaze and a grin. The slight redness in her cheek from my palm doesn’t offset the victory in her demeanour.

We both know that she’s won this round—a triumph Bebe compounds when she proudly cradles her belly as she shrieks, “Oh, this is just brilliant.” When two dozen sets of eyes snap toward her, the tiny redhead gestures at Slash, then throws her hands in the air. “I’m pregnant. The most likely father is a bloody biker who’s in love with his best friend’s ex-fiancée.” I gasp at the nonchalant admission that Slash mightn’t be the baby’s dad and shoot a look his way to see how he’s handling it. “A man who’s made her come twice as he just, oh, so, proudly admitted to everyone listening. My life is officially a soap opera.” The glare that Bebe angles at Slash doesn’t feel completely authentic as she declares, “Don’t call me. Don’t text me. I no longer give a crap about organising a DNA test. You can forget this child even exists. I hope you three—” This time Zeke and I are the recipients of her narrow-eyed hatred. “—have a very unhappy life together. God knows you deserve it.”

The double doors slamming punctuates her exit.

I want to breathe a sigh of relief at her departure, but I can’t.

While Slash makes a move toward me, Zeke does the exact opposite. He heads for the hanging racks that line the entrance. As he reaches for his leather jacket, a new tattoo catches my eye. It’s small, delicately beautiful, and completely at odds with the rest of his ink.

A purple tulip.

On the inside of his forearm.

Clean skin that was once reserved for the names of any children we were blessed with.

As the photos of him and the tattooed MMA fighter surge into my head, my own temper peaks, my voice shrill as I shout, “Zeke!” When he doesn’t acknowledge me, I continue. “You don’t get to hold this against me. I did nothing wrong… there’s no way you’ve been living like a monk since we split.”

My accusation causes a ripple of discontent to rumble through the Shamrocks. As always, there’re too many eyes on our life along with too many idle tongues itching to do the Devil’s work. Nothing stays secret in the MC for long. It’s a reality I’ve used to my advantage more than once—that doesn’t mean I’m comfortable with them having a front row seat to the disintegration of my life.

Slash and Zeke aren’t the only ones with pride to protect.

With his leather jacket tightly clenched in his hands, Zeke turns back to me. “I haven’t touched anyone since you.”

“You touched Honey.”

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