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So I licked my lips, took a deep breath, and said exactly what needed to be said, exactly what he wanted me to say.
“I want Henry dead.”
Chapter Eleven
Butcher
Icould feel her gaze on me, hell, could feel the worry pouring off her. I wasn’t used to people giving a shit about me, well, people who weren’t part of my club.
But with Poppy, I was finding a lot of new things out about myself.
Possession.
Obsession.
This proprietary need and feeling I had over her. It bordered on insane. But fuck, I welcomed it.
I watched her as Doc worked on stitching up the gunshot wound to my arm. Thankfully, it was a clean shot, went right through, and there shouldn’t be any lasting damage. Hell, this wasn’t the worst injury I ever had.
Poppy was worrying her bottom lip with her little straight white teeth.
“It’s fine. I’m fine. It’s just a flesh wound.” I wasn’t used to having to explain myself, to reassure someone I was okay. But I liked telling Poppy. I liked having someone who was concerned about me as much as I was about them.
“Okay, you’re good to go,” Doc said and started cleaning up his medical supplies. He looked over at Poppy and I could see him give her a small smile. And although I knew Doc wouldn’t fuck around with her, because he was smarter than that, I felt this low growl leave me at the thought he even looked at her.
She’s mine, motherfucker.
Doc glanced over at me, his eyes widening a little in surprise. He cleared his throat and said, “He’ll be fine. He’s stronger than he looks.” He muttered those words to Poppy but didn’t look at her again.
Smart fucker, he was.
I grunted and shifted on the chair, holding in my wince. Truth was I hurt like a sonofabitch, but I’d been a helluva lot worse than this many times in my life. But knowing Poppy had gotten injured, that if I hadn’t shown up when I did the outcome would have been a lot different, was a pain I’d never felt before.
“Thanks, Doc. Can you leave us alone now?”
Doc nodded and picked up his bag before leaving the room and shutting the door behind him.
I sat in the same chair I’d been in when she woke up, but I wanted to go to her. I wanted to hold her, to make sure she really was okay. I wanted to feel her again, relishing in the fact that no one and nothing was going to hurt her.
“Damn,” I said under my breath and watched as her eyes widened just slightly.
“What?” Her voice was soft, feminine.
I thought about not telling her the truth. But what was the point of pretending I didn’t want her, that she was the only thing I’d ever really wanted for myself?
“Do you really want to know?” It took her a second to answer, and I wondered if she was going to shake her head. Finally, she nodded, and that made me smile. My girl was strong. “I’m just stunned over the fact that you’re here with me, that you care about me, about my well-being. I’m not a man who’s used to showing or having emotion, if I’m being honest. But with you? With you, things are different.”
She stayed silent, the surprise on her face evident.
“When I realized what was happening, that you were going to get hurt, everything in me froze. I’d never felt that kind of fear before, that kind of rage,” I added.
She was still silent, and I internally cursed. Yeah, I needed to shut the fuck up already.
I watched as her throat worked, but she didn’t say anything right away. Hell, I didn’t blame her.
“You just met me.” Her voice was so soft—whisper-soft.
“I don’thave to know you to know you’re what I want.” Yeah, I’d just gone there. I was the president of a fucking motorcycle club, a criminal, murderer, degenerate, and dangerous. But here I was, getting all soft for the only woman who’d ever made me... feel.
