Page 47 of Beautifully Wounded

Maybe she should be. I’m notgood fucking people.

Stepping forward, I grip her arm, ignoring the way she tries to pull away as I tug her to my chest where I roughly hold her, unsure how to fucking rein in my temper.

Fuck. What do I do here?

Ignoring everyone else, and knowing I need to give Smitty some fucking answers, I tug Abbey back just as forcefully and snarl in her face.

“The fuck did I tell you?”

She flinches at my harsh tone, her eyes pooling with tears as her lip trembles and fuck do I want to punch myself in the fucking head.

She doesn’t deserve to be treated like this.

“Y-your phone rang,” she stutters quietly. Timidly like a little mouse. “I t-tried to get B-Brody to find you but he was b-busy and the p-phone rang so many times. I knew y-you needed to take the c-call.”

Shit. The fucking call.

I shouldn’t have left my phone with her. What the fuck was I thinking?

She was bored and looked so helpless… fuck.

“Ringo, who the fuck is this? What’s going on?” Smitty’s angered tone makes me stiffen. He’s clearly had enough of waiting for me to fucking clue him in.

Jesus fucking Christ.

I shake my head, knowing I only have one choice, so I lean closer to speak to the scared angel trembling in my hold, so only she can hear.

“If you want to get out of this unscathed, Angel, go along with every-fucking-thing I say. You got it?”

Her caramel gaze locks with mine, glassy from unshed tears, and even though she whimpers, she nods, so I nod back and release my grip on her arm, spinning to face the fucking music.

“She’s mine,” I declare.

Smitty frowns, while feminine gasps come from the Doxy girls watching on, and a few hoots come from some of my club brothers.

“Since fucking when?” Smitty snaps, taking a step forward, his glare hard and his tone accusing. “You haven’t claimed a woman since—”

“I said she’s mine.” I cut him off and his eyes narrow. Even though my tone is laced with menace, Abbey shifts closer at my back, so I reach for her and tug her to my side before wrapping my arm over her shoulders, holding her close.

“She’s not wearing your patch,” Smitty points out as his gaze rakes over her.

“Not yet. I was hoping to announce it on the weekend, but then the snap lockdown happened.”

His eyes snap back to mine. “You been hiding her?”

“I’ve been enjoying her. There’s a fucking difference.” I counter and for a long drawn-out moment, we both glare at each other.

Then, my Prez smiles.

“About fucking time you got some action. I was beginning to worry you’d turned into a eunuch.”

“Shut the fuck up.” I smirk back, and the tension starts to ease from the onlookers as they begin to talk amongst themselves.

“How long has this been going on?” Smitty asks, and I gesture my head to the crowd of men and Doxy girls eating up all the drama.

“Can we talk about this somewhere else?”

Smitty chuckles and claps me on the shoulder. “Yeah, back in my room.”

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