Page 59 of Forsaking All Others

“Just like that.” I tip my chin toward her clothes. “Gave you what you need, now get dressed and get out of here.” I lift my gaze to her. “In my veins, woman. Swear to God, you’re in my veins but if you ever pull a fucking stunt like this again—”

She cuts me off.

“What will you do?”

“You ain’t ready for that response, baby.”

She nods, then glances down at the clothes. She doesn’t grab them though, instead she hugs the leather tighter to her chest, covering herself as she brushes past me. My brows pinch together as my gaze follows her to the door. She pauses and looks over her shoulder.

“Don’t say I never gave you anything.”

Such a stupid thing to say.

The woman gave meeverything.

Every fucking thing that matters.

She turns her back to me and reaches for the knob on the door.

“Holly,” I call, and her hand goes still on the brass. “You can hate me all you want, but I ain’t finished loving you.”

Hell, I think I’m just getting started.

* * *

It tookme a minute to gather my bearings before I exited the chapel and faced the turmoil that awaited me. Holly didn’t only disrupt church, she fucking turned my clubhouse upside down when she strutted her sweet ass through the common room wearing nothing but her bra, a pair of skimpy panties, and my fucking kutte. If that’s not making a statement, I don’t know what is.

The queen reclaimed her throne.

Bow down, motherfuckers.

But I can’t dwell on that.

I’m about to apologize to the room full of brothers and get down to business when King pushes up from the chair he’s straddling, his broad face twisting with anger. Sensing things are about to go south for their leaders, Ghost, Ink, and Torque all rise to their feet too, positioning themselves between me and my vice president.

I drag my eyes back to King.

“You got something you want to say?” I probe.

His jaw flexes and he shrugs off his kutte.

“Matter of fact, I do,” he sneers.

I narrow my eyes and brace myself. We didn’t get to this junction without throwing a few fists through the years. I roll up my sleeves and wait for him to do the same but instead he pulls his knife from his back pocket.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Hawk hollers. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Ain’t gonna cut him,” King grunts then he turns and drapes his kutte over the chair. Bending his knees, he takes the tip of the blade to his patch.

Ghost’s eyes flit to mine and he curls his fists.

Waiting.

Itching.

I shake my head.

Stand down.

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