Page 123 of Wife Number One

I couldn’t deny it.

Fang’s shout was deafening. “You piece of shit! You know what she’s been through! She’s not one of your club sluts who you can just use when you want to and throw away like they never mattered, Hawk! She’s Rebel’s little sister, for fuck’s sake!”

My fingers clenched into fists, but I didn’t have a leg to stand on. He was right. Him and Amber both. I fought the urge to drop into a fighter’s stance and defend myself from the blows Fang was no doubt about to rain down on me.

“Fang,” War said quietly.

Fang stopped.

That was what made Fang good at his job. His complete and utter loyalty to War was admirable and had probably saved me from a black eye just now.

“You, in there.” War pointed at me, and then at the room behind me holding nothing more than a single long table with enough chairs for all members. Prospects didn’t get a seat at the table until they were patched in and had to stand around the edges of the room if War deemed them worthy of attending.

Apparently, the room was also about to be used to chew my ear off about what a piece of shit I was, because War seemed no happier than Fang. I didn’t blame him.

I shoved past Ice who was gawking like the dumbass he was and took my frustration out on him. “Why the hell are you even here?” I snapped at him, the words unnecessarily harsh. “Fucking good-for-nothing prospects.”

He stepped aside quickly, a fleeting expression of hurt on his face.

I wanted to groan. He hadn’t deserved that. I was just taking my shit out on the weakest person in the room, and that was some cowardly bullshit if ever I saw it. But what’s done was done. I didn’t apologize. Especially not to a prospect. I’d buy him a beer later.

Like that would ease all the guilt I seemed to have opened a window to when Kara had walked back into my life.

War shut the door behind him, blocking out the others, and then leaned back against it, folding his arms across his chest. “So you fucked your church mouse?”

I glared at him. “Don’t call her that.”

War raised his eyebrow. “You do.”

“Doesn’t mean you can.”

He let out a deep laugh. “Oh, you dumb asshole. Look at you. You fucking like her.”

“I’m getting my dick wet. Nothing else.”

“Bullshit. You could get your dick wet with Amber or Kiki any damn time you want a whole lot easier than it would be to get into Kara’s panties.”

A low growl emanated from my chest. “Talk about her panties again and I will put a bullet in your brain, War. I swear, don’t push me. I am not in the mood.”

His eyes widened in mock shock. “You like her and you’re jealous?” His chuckles turned into full-blown laughter at my expense.

As much as I would have liked to hit him, he wasn’t wrong. And fuck, I clearly needed help. “Can you stop fucking laughing at me and just tell me what to do, you asshole?”

Surprise pulled War out of his laughing fit, and this time the shock on his face was actually sincere. “Oh, shit. You’re actually seriously asking me for advice?”

I waved a hand at him impatiently. “Well, who the hell else am I gonna ask? Fang wants to murder me. Aloha got Queenie so long ago he’s probably forgotten how. You’re the one with partners coming out your ears. Tell me what to do.”

He squinted at me. “So, let’s just recap. You like her.”

I grunted at him, not able to make my lips move to say those words when the feeling inside me felt way more dangerous than just “like.”

It felt like obsession, and that was not a good thing for a man like me.

War took my monosyllabic response as confirmation. “And you’ve somehow managed to sweet talk her into bed.”

“Don’t know that there was much sweet about it, but I didn’t force her, so don’t look at me like I did.”

War’s gaze darkened. “I don’t think that. If I thought you were the type of man who would force a woman, VP or not, you’d be out of this club quicker than you can rev an engine.”

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