Page 21 of Seizing Control: Part Two

“I ain’t doin’ this now,” I tell him. “You’re my club brother, a good friend too, but my personal life isn’t up for discussion.”

“Way I see it, you’re not gonna do it ever.” When I try to stalk off, Meeyal moves in front of me to block my path. I’m five inches taller than him, and a lot wider, but he stands his ground with determination in his posture. Arms folded over his chest, the dark-eyed man glares at me. “The curia has an office on the twenty-eighth floor. Your elevator stopped on the twenty-eighth floor.” He steps up into my face. His finger pokes my sternum, punctuating his next sentence. “What the hell are you playin’ at?” Pausing to give me time to reply, Meeyal emits a low growl when I don’t answer him. I widen my stance, readying myself for the home truths I can see brewing in his frustrated expression. “You won’t go home to your wife and kid, but you’ll drag us to Brisbane so you can meet with my dad behind the Shamrocks’ back. You’ll organise a cache of weapons to arrive on the same day as you have me set up a meetin’ with the only president who’d be willin’ to go head-to-head with the Mavericks and the Maddisons right now.”

For a second time, he stops talking to give me space to reject his upcoming accusation.

“Tell me you’re not plannin’ on startin’ a war tonight?”

Shaking my head, I state, “No war.”

Meeyal scowls. “Just a massacre then.”

Head held high, I shrug, nonchalantly acknowledging the accuracy of his assessment.

“Slash... fuck.” He rips his bandana from around his neck and twists the material in his hands. “Need you to know that you can’t trust my dad or the curia.” As I frown, he continues. “I love my father, but he’s always playin’ games with everyone. His only intent is to position us where we best serve the Trinity’s purpose. He doesn’t care about collateral damage or hurtin’ feelings or even causin’ death. What makes him a brilliant Adjudicator, also makes him a shitty human. Dad doesn’t understand things like love and trust and trauma... thinkin’ like a human isn’t his forte.” Swallowing deep, I scan Meeyal’s face with frantic eyes. I’ve never seen him act like this. His typically matter-of-fact approach has been replaced with genuine apprehension. My resolve begins to waver when he says, “He’s judge, jury, and executioner... and that requires a level of ruthlessness that not many possess. Nothin’ gets in my father’s way once he’s set his mind to somethin’. You know this—you experienced it first hand with the ritual.”

Gut churning, I shift from foot to foot. The reaction that flows through me in the wake of Meeyal’s reminder about the ritual is perverse and contrary. My cock thickens, and memories of being buried inside my wife surge to the forefront of my mind. I swallow down the bile that surges into my mouth as nausea takes hold. Living with the guilt of violating my duchess is hard.

The other desires awakened that night are best left unacknowledged...

“Nothin’ Ronni said today makes me think this will turn out like the ritual—the Mavericks deserve everythin’ comin’ their way, and so do the Maddisons.”

“Ronni?” My watchman steps away from me and plants his hands on his hips. “You meet with Veronica Cerulli, not my dad?”

“Yeah.” Inclining my head, I continue. “I met with Ronni—she said she was sent in your father’s stead.”

“Okay.” Meeyal exhales roughly. His expression tightens, questions clustering his gaze. He purses his lips, apparently lost in thought. The enforcers emerge from the garage access, and I divert my attention to them, listening with half an ear when my watchman says, “Well, that changes things.”

“Wasn’t waitin’ for your blessin’,” I mutter as I follow my club brothers into the parking lot. My arms lift, reaching for the crown of my head before I drop them back to my sides. The closest enforcer smirks when he recognises what I was about to do. Chuckling, he weaves out of the way when I move to punch him in the bicep. “Shut it, ya arsehole.”

“Didn’t say nothin’,” the wily biker retorts. Holding his hands up, my enforcer makes sure he’s out of my reach before he jokes, “But if I was gonna say anythin’, it’d be a warnin’ to grow that mop back before ya old lady sees ya next. Everyone knows little Cherub loves your manbun more than she loves her coffee.”

“Which is sayin’ something,” my newest enforcer interjects with a laugh. “She’s gonna have a fit when she sees your hair.”

The caffeine addiction my duchess fostered over the years died a sudden death following her miscarriage. I suppose I’m one of the few to notice, considering my sick habit of cataloguing every move she makes. Her drink of choice became chamomile tea with honey, but that mightn’t be the case any longer. Cherub’s tastes were changing as her pregnancy progressed, and she was working her way through the pantry my mother keeps well-stocked in her quest to find a replacement.

It’s another gut punch.

A familiar pang of self-imposed exile.

The damning realisation that I have no clue what my wife’s craving nowadays hits hard.

“Mount up.” Rather than keep the joke going, I adopt a business-like tone that strips the mirth from my enforcers’ faces. “We have a meetin’ with Silver and his chapter this afternoon. Need your game faces on and your trigger fingers steady.”

“You heard the prez,” Meeyal commands when the other men gawp at me. “Mount up.”

My moods are giving them whiplash. So far, they’ve kept their thoughts to themselves, but I know my luck won’t hold for much longer. Three of them are fathers. They’ll want to head home soon, and I can’t allow them to rotate out since I’m running out of club brothers who won’t immediately report back to the old timers. The last thing I need is for my dad to get wind of my dishevelment.

Hunter’s choice to leave the Shamrocks was the final straw.

It broke Dad’s heart, and added to his already low opinion of me as a president.

The old timers have been waiting for me to unravel since Venom died. Little do they know, but it’ll be my ex-best friend’s return from the dead that’ll finish me off if I’m not careful. He is my competition. The rival for my wife’s heart. While I have no idea what’s she drinking in my absence, he has all the time in the world to watch her.

This thought hardens the resolve that momentarily wavered during Meeyal’s warning about Gabriel. I need to see this plan through to the end. Then I can go home to my wife with a genuine offer of a proper new beginning.

My worries keep pace with me as we weave through the city traffic. My duchess. Lazarus. The club. Hunter. My parents. Over and over, I ruminate on my problems until I’m forced to admit that there isn’t a simple solution to any of them. Heading toward the ports, I run through the plan Ronni laid out today. In order to begin to restore the money Brutus stole from his kids’ trust funds, I need to disrupt the next shipment of woman and young girls abducted by the Mavericks of Mayhem that’s destined for delivery to the Maddison clan in America.

They’re scheduled for departure tonight.

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