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Buff: I’ll get it done.
Cobra: Before Thanksgiving?
Buff: Yes
Although, I probably wouldn’t hit all of my clients. Collecting payments wasn’t my priority at the moment.
Cobra should know better. He’d move Heaven and Earth if Karma went missing. When she left him eight years ago, he had drunk himself into the toilet when he couldn’t find her and fell into a deep depression. Cobra’s reaction to losing Karma was why my stupid brothers had manipulated him into cheating on her. To prove he wasn’t president material. And for their own selfish, dickish reasons. I still couldn’t believe what they’d done to our brother. Sure Cobra hadn’t cheated, but the consequences of getting mixed up with Bone and Spectre had been devasting for Cobra, Karma, and little Nova.
The dumb fucks. I loved my brothers. Would take a bullet for them. Walk through the fires of hell to save them. But as Lady M would say, “No one is perfect or without sin.” No doubt about that. The Knights had a stubborn streak the size of the Missippi River running through them. We’d all been a bunch of dumb fucks a time or two. We didn’t always think before we acted, some more than others.
My phone vibrated as I pulled away from the curb.
Cobra: Better call Storm first
At least he didn’t order me to come home.
But call Storm to alert him of my visit? Hell no. He’d probably make up an excuse as to why he couldn’t see me. I had a distinct feeling that my cousin was avoiding me.
Besides, we were family. I didn’t need permission to stop byunexpectedlyfor a visit. Of course, Storm might feel differently, considering I sensed he was hiding something from me.
Yes, time to visit the Prez in Minnesota and find out what the fuck was taking his computer whiz so long to find my woman.
Where are you, baby?
I won’t rest until you’re back where you belong… with me.
2
Reign
I braced for the impact and the gold rings on his fingers to scrap across my cheekbone. After sixteen months, I should know how to shut my goddamn mouth.
Yeah right. Me?
Shut my mouth?
No way. I’d always been hard-headed to the nth degree. If I thought something, I said it out loud even if it got me in trouble… like now.
“Stupid whore. I don’t answer to you!” His hand went around my throat. “Don’t ever question me again!”
I fought to not cry. Not the easiest thing to do after getting backhanded by a man weighing twice as much as me and choking me to death. They didn’t call him Keg for no reason. The man could drink a whole keg on his own and gave “mean drunk” a new, violent meaning. Funny, I could make him explode in a fit of rage when sober. Yay me.
The first dozen times or so that he beat me, I cried like most girls, begging him to stop. I no longer gave him the pleasure of breaking me.
But Keg wasn’t all bad.
Well, maybe a little bit when he’d assault me with his fists and razor-sharp tongue. Most times, I deserved it for provoking him. I enjoyed getting at him just as he liked getting at me. Yep, we were toxic together.
After sleeping off the alcohol, Keg usually turned sweet and tender. I’d forgive him because he had no recollection of his actions. He had even cried once seeing the evidence on my face. It freaking broke my heart watching the big guy bawl like a baby.
But he quickly got over the guilt, and I was over his damn short temper and prickish attitude. Didn’t fighting with me multiple times a week bother him? Perhaps not since Keg never laid off the booze even though he claimed to care about me, and I stupidly took what he dished out.
I steeled myself for more of his abuse. If I showed any emotion, he’d call me weak and pathetic. I was neither.
Unfortunately, the fucker knew how to break my confidence… what little I had left. I hated how much I’d changed over the past couple of years. I hardly recognized myself.
But I hated getting mixed up in Keg’s club more. I should’ve never left New York or let my goddamned heart guide me. All I’d wanted was to be closer to North Dakota, closer to the man I had walked away from four years ago.
