Page 3 of Tempting Fate

“I do.” After dragging my gaze from the back of Alex’s head, I offer my worried friend a loaded look. “Won’t be able to sleep, eat, drink, breathe unless I hear the outcome with my own ears and see it with my own eyes.”

With a sharp nod, Slash concedes my point. He turns slightly to use his chin to direct my attention toward Sander. I angle my head, my mouth runs dry when I find my twin dashing at his eyes with the back of his hand. Nadia loops her arm around his neck and pulls his face to her shoulder. Next to her, Slash’s mum, Crystal, sits ramrod straight. She holds up her “Justice should be blind” sign and glares at any of Alex’s supporters whenever they make the mistake of meeting her eyes.

I offer her a watery smile when Crystal slips Sander a tissue and orders, “Shoulders square, chin up.”

To his credit, Sander does exactly as he’s told. When he glances my way, I pretend I can’t see his red-rimmed eyes. With a squeeze of my fingers, Zeke steals my attention from my twin. He looks around the courtroom, at anyone but the man my father refuses to grant him the permission to kill, and I follow his focus. The long benches on the prosecution side are filled with my supporters. On the other side of Sander, my three younger brothers fill out the row. Behind them, the old ladies of the Black Shamrocks MC offer their silent but solid support.

Row after row, from my spot at the front, to the double doors all the way at the back, is occupied by big men in dirty denim and long-sleeved T-shirts—stripped of their Shamrocks cut and colours. From prospects to lifers who’ve been in the club longer than I’ve been alive, from the Perth chapter to those from the east coast, the Shamrocks have turned out to support me. Each man has had his life turned on its head by my dumb choice, yet they’re all here.

Sitting with me.

Encouraging me.

Protecting me.

Unlike my father… and Charlie.

As soon as thoughts of Dad push their way into my head, I shove them back out. I don’t have the bandwidth to process his betrayal, not that any level of comprehension will help me understand his reasons for secretly sanctioning a union between me and the heir to the Maddison clan.

It doesn’t make sense.

It’s never been part of the biker life.

Arranged marriages are more the bailiwick of the mafia and the Trinity.

Even then, the women involved are aware they’re being used to create a blood bond.

Not that it makes any difference.

It’s over now.

Dad might’ve won some battles, but he lost that fight. I’m free to choose my own partner, and I’ve made it clear that I choose Zeke. I’ve been in love with him since I was thirteen, and despite some bumps in our road to togetherness, he loves me in return.

Dirty as I am.

Broken as I am.

Zeke has made it clear that I’m it for him.

As my mind tries to bombard me with memories of Alex’s attack on my eighteenth birthday, I force myself to focus elsewhere. I take in the stark contrast between the rough men on my side and the well-dressed politicians, businessmen, weeping socialites, and other supporters sitting behind Alex. The difference in our social standing has been well documented by the converging press. The sides of this trial are delineated with or without the presence of the Shamrocks patch. When the man accused of violent rape and grievous bodily harm is the only son of the minister for police and his victim is the daughter of an MC president, unfavourable comparisons are expected.

I’m the dirty biker whore who took down the crown prince of Western Australia.

Alex is the unfortunate dupe caught in my lewd net.

God forbid the truth impedes a clever soundbite…

“Face forward, Mr. Kingsley,” Justice Thompson demands. “I’d hate to hold you in contempt at such a late stage.”

My head snaps to the front of the courtroom. I lock eyes with Alex, who’s turned around to look at me. My heart stops. My lungs empty. I’m frozen in place as he awkwardly blows me a kiss using his handcuffed hands, then winks. Next to me, Zeke growls and makes to stand. I shake myself free of the weird thrall Alex creates and stay my man with a strong squeeze of his closest thigh.

“Gonna kill him if he looks at you again.”

“No, you’re not,” I tell Zeke, even though I’d love nothing more than Alex to die. “That’ll only make things worse.”

“It’ll make me feel a fuckova lot better.”

While the justice clears her throat, and scowls at Alex as he slowly resumes facing her, I lean into Zeke and whisper, “I won’t lose you, not to him, not to whatever revenge his father cooks up to pay us back for damaging his family’s reputation and destroying his chance of becoming the state’s Premier, and definitely not to my father’s games. There’s a reason Dad won’t sanction Alex’s death, so until we know what it is, you’ll use your brains and respect my call for restraint.”

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