Page 75 of Bonita Brynne

“You son of a bitch.” I charged toward him and stabbed him in the heart.

Dorian’s eyes bulged out of their sockets. His mouth gaped while he choked and sputtered blood.

“I hate you,” I seethed. “Brynne hates you.” I wanted to hit him where it hurt most: in the heart. “Suffer in the fires of hell with this knowledge… Brynne is already pregnant!” I screamed in his face, releasing more than a decade’s worth of pain, suffering, and anger.

Raul grabbed my wrist and made me leave it where it stuck out of him. “Enough, baby. I don’t want you to finish him.” He led me out of the dungeon.

“I’m cold.”

“I’ll warm you up, mama. I’ll take care of you, my love.”

“You always do, Raul. You always make everything right.”

“Because you’re my life, mama.”

“You’re mine too.” I rested my head on his chest. “It’s really over, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“What about Rosa and the servant?”

“The club will do everything possible to find them, but for all we know, they’re dead.”

“God, I hope they’re not.”

28

Track

I nursed a beer while staring at my woman at theold ladies’ tableacross the bar from the council’s table. They would’ve been in the middle of the room two days ago. Two days ago, they hadn’t been involved in club business. Two days ago, my brother was still missing.

A lot of shit could change in forty-eight hours.

My brother was back home safe and mostly unscathed.

Dorian and his brother Coby were dead, and so was Brynne’s dad.

The FBI had seized Dorian’s assets and estate and recovered twenty-eight people chained inside a cargo ship in the Port of Chicago.

Those were huge wins for the club. But I didn’t believe for a minute we could’ve done it without our old ladies’ help.

“Do you think he’ll forgive me?” Storm muttered to no one specific. “I promised she’d be protected. I’m a liar.”

Prez was in a bad place. He’d failed Grizzly and Libby and no one was harder on themselves than Storm. He allowed himself zero grace and bore the brunt of the responsibility for everything and anything regarding the club.

“Shit happens,ese.” Hero clapped him on the arm. “We can’t be everywhere, twenty-four-seven. Blame those who are at fault, fucking Dorian and his goons.”

“But she’ll never be able to have children.” Storm drank from the bottle of whiskey.

“Let’s go home, baby.” Maddy wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. “I need to comfort my man.”

“He’ll probably need help after drinking half the bottle,” my dad told her. “Ire. Hollywood.” He jerked his chin. “Help Angel take the prez home.”

“I don’t need no fuckin’ help,” Storm hissed and pushed the bottle aside.

“Let them help you,” Maddy said.

“Angel,” he growled.

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