Page 113 of Tempting Fate

My fiancé’s gaze darts to me, then to the door. He seems anxious to get to my brother. I tamp down on the myriad of questions flitting around my head to verbalise the most relevant one, “All I need to know is when this breakup—” I make finger quotes around the word. “—is happening. Need to prepare some good insults to really sell it.”

Hunter hits me with an impressed look and a proud nod. “Glad you’re on board with this… it’s the smartest way to handle it. Covers all eventualities and keeps everyone as safe as they can be.”

“Well, if you think it’s smart,” I quip with a sharp laugh. “Who am I to question the plan?”

“We have tonight,” Zeke tells me. He scans my face as he continues. “By tomorrow evenin’, I want you gone from the compound.”

Even though I know he doesn’t mean to be harsh, hearing his succinct description of my impending absence from his life makes me flinch. A frown mars the smooth skin between Hunter’s eyebrows as he watches us. I do my best to keep my feelings to myself, unwilling to put any further pressure on Zeke after forcing him to make a promise we’re both aware he mightn’t be able to keep.

Asking him to kill Alex for me is one thing.

Making him swear that he’ll stay safe is acceptable.

But his vow that I’ll be able to sleep easy is a step too far.

No one knows better than me how unpredictable the Maddison’s can be.

Until Alex is dead, and I’ve verified that fact with my own eyes, my nightmares will continue.

“If you two still need some time,” Hunter ventures slowly. “I can delay our meeting with Toker and Slash. Rushin’ into this will only increase the probability of a screw up.”

“I’m ready,” I tell him at the same time Zeke declares, “We can nut out the finer details after I come to bed tonight.”

The reminder of his lack of sleep has me scanning his face for signs of fatigue. The anxiety and fury that were weighing him down when he brought me coffee an hour ago have lifted a little. No doubt clearing the air between us helped with that. Even so, it doesn’t disguise how tired he is.

It’s been a day and a half since he last slept.

“Make it early,” I entreat. My tone is sultry, full of promise. Not because I plan on screwing his brains out… which I do, but because my unspoken offer is the easiest way to get him to bed before he falls over. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Ugh,” Hunter scoffs as Zeke winks at me. “I did not need that visual.”

“Not our fault you’re still a virgin,” Zeke tells him before he swings around and jogs toward the exit so he can go and find Wyatt. “There’s plenty of pussy around to fix your situation if it’s becomin’ a problem.”

“Virgin, hey?” I ask. Although I’ve always suspected that Hunter hasn’t had sex yet, it’s still a shock to hear it confirmed. Like Slash, he is a very good-looking man. Not quite as tall as his big brother, his build not as athletic, he rocks a man-bun and a set of piercing blue eyes that are identical to his father and brother.

Hunter rolls his eyes. “Nineteen isn’t late… plus the mechanics of it all just seems wrong. Like I understand it on a logical level, but on a physical level, it grosses me out. Prong A slidin’ in and out of socket B until it throws up isn’t exactly hygienic.”

“La la la.” I press my palms to my ears to block out his clinical description of sex. “Stop talking before you ruin it for me, too.”

When Hunter’s face turns crimson, I feel bad. Dropping my hands, I link my arm with his, leaning into him as I say, “One day you’ll find a person who lines their shoes up just right, hates Criminal Minds as much as you do, and understands the importance of flossing six times a day, and you’ll realise that meaningful sex is one of the best reasons for being alive. It’s what makes us human.”

Hunter ducks his head. “You think so?”

“Kiddo, I found someone to give me that… why wouldn’t you?”

“When you put it like that,” he pretends to mock me, but I can hear the worry he’s struggling to hide. “My quirks don’t seem so bad. You are pretty unbearable when you’re caffeine deficient.”

“Speaking of caffeine,” I exclaim, dragging him out of the shed and across the gravel yard toward the main clubhouse. “It’s been at least an hour since my last coffee. Do you reckon Crystal has a pot on?”

“She’s on lockdown with a bunch of sleep-deprived bikers and a Cherub with an espresso addiction… I think it’s fair to say Mumma has more than one pot prepared.”

We part ways at the kitchen doors. Hunter heads off to the den, and I step into the industrial-sized kitchen my mother designed a decade ago to accommodate the growing club. The floors are tiled, and the walls are waterproof. There are five long stainless-steel benches, three gigantic fridges, and the biggest chest freezer known to man squeezed inside the heart of the club to feed the bikers and their families during lockdown.

“There she is.” Crystal greets me with a smile. Juggling two platters full of sandwiches, she jerks her shoulder toward the tea and coffee station. “Just brewed a fresh pot... once you’re firing on all cylinders, I’ve got six roast chooks that need chopping up for the Caesar salad and the subs.”

“On it.”

After refuelling myself with two mugs of black coffee, I venture over to the aforementioned pile of chickens. Making quick work of shredding the meat from the bones, I’m lost in my head, thinking through the implications of Zeke and Hunter’s plan and my part in it when I’m interrupted by the nasally, high-pitched voice of the only old lady I can’t stand.

---