Page 36 of Riding Bare

I don’t know what I want out of this myself. Honest to fuck, I want Samuil’s head. I want to put him in a barrel of hydrochloric acid. I’d make sure it was in view of my bedroom window so I could look out at it every day and imagine his body melting away.

Rustik leans back, lifting his hands and placing his elbows on the arms of his chair as he steeples his fingers together in front of his mouth. His gaze shifts from Cake to me, then moves back to meet Cake’s.

“I don’t agree with the way Samuil went about things. It’s not the way I would have played it, and I don’t know what his agenda is. He hasn’t told me anything… and I’ve asked.”

I watch Rustik as he speaks, and fuck me, but I believe the Russian. Cake must, too, because he doesn’t call him out. Instead, he reaches for the plate of pasta-looking shit. I watch as he stabs his fork into the pile, then brings it to his lips and takes a bite, likely to buy himself some time.

“The baby is a boy,” I announce.

Cake didn’t tell him that part, but I think it needs to be said. Rustik’s brows rise. He shifts in his seat, then reaches for his wineglass and lifts it to his lips. He takes a sip, setting the glass back down on the table before he lets out a heavy sigh.

“Does this change things?” I ask.

Rustik nods once, then he shakes his head once. “I want to say it doesn’t. This was a manipulation thing in an effort to weasel his way into your club,” he murmurs. “It was not sanctioned by me. By the Bratva.”

Cake hums, no doubt wondering what is going to come next, because Rustik is obviously not finished with his thought. Rustik presses his lips together, and I can tell he’s thinking, likely going through several different outcomes to this scenario.

“I see why you’ve come to me. A son, we covet having sons,” he murmurs. “As much as I want to say that Samuil is trusted, there is the simple fact that this whole thing happened because he went behind my back, though supposedly under the guise that it was to help the Bratva.”

“But you don’t believe him,” I say, reading between the lines.

“I indeed do not,” he mutters. “I think whatever he was doing, it was for personal gain. I think he was going to keep it from me, from the Bratva.”

My lips twitch into a smirk. “What happens if you find out that’s what he was doing? If you can prove it?” I ask.

I’m pretty fucking sure I know what happens when one of his men betrays him, because I’m pretty sure it’s the same thing that would happen if one of my men betrayed the club. Death. In one of my fucking barrels.

“I’m sure you know,” Rustik murmurs.

“Can I watch?” I blurt out.

Rustik chuckles, but Cake isn’t laughing yet. Instead, he pats his hand on the table, causing both of us to shift our attention back to him. He clears his throat, leaning back in his chair slightly again.

“I just want to know if my daughter and grandson are safe. I imagined her being married to Dare would be all that was needed to ensure their safety. But with this whole”—he lifts his hand and waves it around—“partnership of sorts, it causes me to pause because he likely already knows exactly where they are.”

Rustik dips his chin in a single nod, then he clears his throat. “They will be safe, you have my word, and if Samuil attempts to step out of line, he will be yours to do with as you please.”

“No hard feelings on that?” Cake asks.

“Not a single one. Now, let’s eat and drink.”

CHAPTER

TWENTY-NINE

CHASSIS

I jump when I hear a knock on my door—well, Amos’s door. It startles me, and I look around the entirety of the room, wondering if someone is going to pop out from the closet or something. Although I’m not sure where they would be popping out from. I think about ignoring said knock, but then it happens again.

I open my mouth to call out to the person on the other side, though I’m not even sure what I could say. All I imagine is that it’s that fucking woman on the other side trying to rile me up some more.

I don’t have to say anything.

The door slowly opens, and there is Juliette standing on the other side, a smile playing on her lips. I don’t know what she’s doing here. I thought it was one of my brothers. I haven’t heard from any of them at all today, but in all fairness, I haven’t stepped foot out of this room since my situation with that bitch.

She takes one step into the room, then another before closing the door behind her. I start to ask her if everything is okay, because I can’t imagine what she would want to talk to me about, but she clears her throat before she shifts from foot to foot.

I suck in my own breath, holding it as I wait for whatever is about to come my way. I feel like it’s going to be big. I don’t understand what’s happening. I’m not sure what to say right now. She’s staring at me, and I’m staring at her. I don’t know why she’s here looking at me, watching me, waiting for me to say something, but I have no clue what to say.