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I hiked an eyebrow. “But you enjoyed blowing off some steam, didn’t you?”
Boxer issued me a wry smile. “Fuck yeah, I did.”
I scratched the back of my head, shaking it. Boxer was something else. A mean son of a bitch. Loyal and protective of his club. He might like to inflict pain, but he only killed when absolutely necessary.
I hated the stench of death. Blood and tears. When a person’s life ended because of stupid ass choices.
I lived with the consequences of my unforgivable actions. Tortured daily because I was a selfish asshole.
For the last twelve years, I’d wished it was me who’d died. Not the boy. No matter how many times I stared the Reaper in the face, wanting to die, he passed me by. The torture of living with blood on my hands. The memories of what I’d done were the worst kind of pain.
I didn’t deserve to have a kind, loving, fuckin’ remarkable, beautiful woman in my life. But I wouldn’t give my Angel up for anything. I’d work my fingers to the bones to deserve her. To be a better man.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. The guys stopped what they were doing with expectant looks.
“It’s Track,” I told them, answering the call. “Yeah?”
“We got us another lone Hunter.”
“Another prospect?”
“Nope. He’s wearing a patch.”
I exhaled in relief. “Bring him to the cabin.” I eyed Boxer. “Prepare for your next Dirty Fucker.”
Boxer and Wolf smiled.
“You should go home and rest,” Track muttered into the phone.
“No time to rest, brother. This is where I need to be.” Why the fuck would Track think I’d be anywhere else?
Track sighed as if frustrated with me. “What about Angel?”
“She’s fine. Tina is looking after her.”
“But she needs—”
“Enough,” I gritted out. Fuckin’ Track. “Better she learns now how things are. The club is my priority. I’m the president. This is my job.”
“I get it. Just don’t forget about her.”
“No chance.” I ended the call. The last thing I needed was Track up my ass about Madeline. Everything I was doing was to make the area safe for her. This shit was personal. My woman’s safety was at stake. Of course, I couldn’t say that to anyone. I would’ve done all this even if Madeline wasn’t in the picture. However, she motivated to a new level.
“How long before they get here?”
I turned around to face Boxer. “Half hour, maybe.”
“It’ll probably be a long night...”
Sonofabitch. I could read between the lines. Like Track, Boxer was thinking of Madeline. They needed to stop. I couldn’t have her distracting the whole club.
“We work until it’s done. No matter how long it takes. Understand?” I cut my eyes to Wolf. “I need a smoke.”
“In the top drawer of my cart.” Boxer jerked his chin to his red toy box. “Got some joints in there too.”
“Perfect.”
A little weed would go a long way in taking my mind off Angel. After all was said and done, I hoped she didn’t dump my ass. MC life wasn’t for the faint of heart. It might be too much for Madeline. Hell, at times it was too much for me. I wouldn’t stop her from leaving if she couldn’t handle it. It would destroy me, but I’d let Angel go.
