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“Scribe,” King growled lowly.
“Look what I have,” Scribe smiled, holding up a tattoo gun. “What do you say, Bails? How about letting your best bud pop your ink cherry?”
It took King and Gunner to hold Bailey back from killing her best friend as I moved quickly, dragging Scribe away before the wedding turned into a funeral. In the end, Priest finished the ceremony, and King was officially married again.
The second King kissed the bride we all heard Cameron shout, “About damn time!” before he bolted from Frank, kicking off his dress shoes and ripping the tie and blue shirt from his little body, as brothers laughed congratulating the happy couple.
It was time to party.
Chapter Thirty-One
Pyro
The clubhouse was pumping with loud music, laughter, family and friends. Leaving Skylar with Sarah and Beth in the kitchen, I headed out into the main room when I noticed unwanted guests arriving.
Shit, this was not good.
Maybe I should have taken that bet Priest offered, because murder was definitely on the menu if Bailey got wind of who just walked into the clubhouse. Seeing King and Gunner, I rushed over just as Gunner said, “Dude, are you trying to have the shortest marriage on record?”
“What?”
“Look,” I pointed, as King growled.
Holy shit.
This was not good.
The entire club knew how Bailey felt about those bitches. If she saw them before we got rid of them, all hell was going to break loose.
“Fuck. What are they doing here? I thought they were told to stay away. Where is Bailey?” King asked, scanning the crowd for his wife.
“Saw her with Jess, Beth, and my woman in the kitchen” Gunner quickly said.
“Good. You go keep them occupied while I get rid of those bitches,” King whispered as a loud whistle caught everyone’s attention. We all turned to see Scribe running towards us, shouting.
“RED ALERT! RED ALERT!”
“What?”
“The ho’s are here!”
“I saw them, you idiot,” King groaned, ignoring him.
“No. Not those Ho’s,” Scribe huffed, damn nearlyout of breath. Ducking behind King as he pointed at the entrance to the clubhouse. There, scanning the room, stood three determined women. “Those ho’s! Whatever they say, it’s a damn lie!”
Seeing who Scribe was talking about, even I took a step back.
Holy shit.
What the hell are they doing here?
“What did you do?” King rounded on the cowering fucker, wide-eyed.
Those women weren’t just any ho’s.
They were Scribe’s older sisters.
The three witches.
