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“It matters not how strait the gate, how charged with punishments the scroll; I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul.” ~William Ernest Henley~

Revenge. The vindictive pleasure it brings has been many a man’s downfall. Its seductive nature, the power it imbues, the satisfaction that settles in your bones knowing that you’ve settled the score, is a craving that’s hard to resist.

My man is strong. Stronger than any I’ve ever known yet I fear his need for retribution is going to beat him. The Club needs a leader they can trust, a man who sticks to his word, a champion of their code of honour. Me, well, I need my lover, my partner, my soul mate to put me first. He needs to be the master of our destiny, the keeper of our fate, while I’m lost in my grief and confusion.

It’s not fair. I know it’s not. Yet, even knowing how much he needs to avenge the wrongs that were brought down on our head—the deception that threatened to tear the Shamrocks apart—I can’t give him what he’s asking for.

Every fibre of my being accepts that he’s my soul mate. My matching half. The yin to my yang. We both acknowledge that our destiny was sealed when I was just a girl. However, if he continues with his pursuit of vengeance, I fear the outcome will do more than tempt our fate.

Gripping my ape-hangers, I manoeuvre my Harley to the head of the pack and accelerate. Fuck riding behind Timber right now. Fuck riding with anyone but Lainey. She’s the only person who matters to me, my sole reason for breathing.

I’m finally fucking free. The jail is nothing but a receding reflection in my side mirror. We’ve survived our latest betrayal. Five months of fucking hell it cost us; leaving my woman to struggle on her own and me locked in a manmade hell-hole. Every fucker who conspired against us is gonna pay. I don’t give a shit whether they call themselves family or friend.

Mik was who they locked up. He was stabbed and beaten; bent and almost broken by a corrupt system and a plan put in place by a man he once loved like a second father.

Mad Dog is who emerged. Spiteful, nasty, bitter, and resentful. He’s hell bent on revenge; bound and determined to rid the world of every cockhead who’s ever done us wrong.

It’s with that resolution sitting in the forefront of my mind that I decide where me and Lainey are heading first. The party at the Compound can wait—the Club will still be there no matter how long our detour takes. I need to get properly reacquainted with my woman before I deal with the celebrations they have planned. Why the Shamrocks would think I want to share a beer in remembrance of the deception that saw me lose my freedom for five months alludes me. The last thing I want to do is examine the damage caused.

No, I wanna spend my first night balls deep in my woman—reminding myself of how well our bodies fit together. I need her to ground me before I put into action the plan I formulated while I was locked up. Her beauty, her innocence, the way she needs me to complete her. They’re the perfect antidote to the darkness that threatens to spill free anytime I think about Beast, about Thomas Taylor, or the corrupt fucking legal system that they manipulated to keep me away from her.

Patting Lainey’s hands where they sit snuggly around my waist, I wait until she looks at me in the side mirror before I gesture with my thumb at the left-hand side of the road. Slowing my bike, I round a sharp corner and then come to a halt in front of a huge two-story house.

Bracing my Harley with my feet, I lock my knees so the perfectly balanced machine doesn’t tilt and pull off my helmet. Patting the inside pocket of my cut, first the left side then the right, I pull out the packet of smokes I stashed there on my way out of the prison. Lighting one, I inhale deeply, holding it in my lungs as I watch Lainey look at the house, then at the sold sticker sitting proudly across the “For Sale” sign, and then back at me.

Pulling her helmet off in a rush, she stares at me with wide, bright blue eyes. “Mik. You didn’t?”

Her tone makes it obvious that she’s hoping that I did. Twisting as much as I can, I nod proudly as the smoke I was holding billows from my nose. Her delicate little nose twitches, her disdain apparent. I don’t usually smoke around her unless I’m drinking, being what you’d call a part-time smoker—that was until I was incarcerated and had nothing else to do. As of now, I have a habit. It’s just one of the many things that have changed in our time apart.

“I can’t believe—” She stops speaking and looks back at the house. Her delighted expression makes all the headaches caused by trying to purchase a house while I was locked up worth it. I was determined that I wasn’t coming home to my dad’s spare room, our room in the Compound, or the house that Lainey had rented in my absence. “My God, it’s huge. How much was it?”

Throwing my cigarette onto the ground near my front tyre, I grab Lainey’s closest hand and pull her toward me. It’s not easy, but I manage to silence her with my mouth. Slipping my tongue between her easily parted lips, I explore the recesses of her mouth as we kiss. Frustration takes hold when my hands try to touch her without success; our positions making it impossible. Pulling away from her alluring mouth, I grin when she pouts. “Hop off, Angel. Let me show you your new home.”

We walk hand-in-hand up the drive to the front door. Reaching up, I grab the key from the top of the door frame where Joel left it for me and unlock the house. With an extended arm, I usher Lainey in before me, my eyes firmly planted on her ass that’s displayed in all its glory in her tight jeans. She comes to a stop in front of me and only my quick reflexes stop me from ploughing into her back.

Spinning to face me, she wraps her arms around my neck and plants kisses all over my face. I pull her body into mine, my eyebrows lifting as I realize how much weight she’s lost since I held her last. I knew she was struggling without me; the light in her eyes was dimming with each visit to see me in jail, yet, I hadn’t a clue she was this bad.

Placing my hands on either side of her face, I pull her away from me, ready to ask her about her much-smaller frame. Lainey mistakes my intentions, instead taking a step back and pulling her shirt over her head. When her tits come into view, pushed high in a sexy red bra, all my questions fly out of my head. Fuck, I’ve missed her. Seeing her almost every day was torture when I couldn’t even hold her hand without running the risk of getting her visitation rights revoked.

Her shirt has barely slipped from her fingers to the floor before I’m walking her backward in search of the closest wall to lift her against while I unsnap her bra and free her breasts. We come to a stop when Lainey’s back hits the wall behind us. Mouths pressed together, tongues duelling, my fingers are nimble as I pop open the button to her jeans and yank them and her panties down past her knees. I hold them so she can step out of them, planting a kiss on her smooth mound as I straighten. Lainey starts fumbling with my pants button. My frantic movements make it hard for her so I undo it for her. Tugging my zipper down, I pull my jeans down far enough to free my cock. Her slender fingers are wrapped around me before I’m fully exposed, working my dick up and down with the finesse of a woman who’s had her hand around it many times before.

Impatient to be inside her, I knock her hand aside, push her hard against the wall and lift her with one arm under her ass. With my free hand, I guide my cock inside her tight body, burying myself to the hilt in her hot cunt with one forceful stroke. Lainey’s resulting gasp is music to my ears, as is her instinctive response to wind her fingers through my hair and tug at it.

Drawing back, I drive myself into her again. She feels fucking exquisite, gripping me with her pulsing walls, pulling me further into her beautiful body. I push my cock into her pussy, over and over, each stroke harder than the last until I’m lifting her up the wall with each thrust.

“Mik...God...Missed this.” Lainey’s words are barely audible; broken and breathless. When her legs wrap around my hips tighter, I know she’s close to the edge. I make enough space between us so I can reach her clit and still maintain my pace. Grinding my thumb against the sensitive bundle of nerves, I feel her pussy clamp around my cock as I send her over the edge into the first orgasm I’ve been able to give her in months. The tightening of her walls pushes me past the point of no return, my release spilling into her while she’s still riding her own climax.

“Fuck. Yes.” I groan as I come. My orgasm feels like it goes on and on. I’m like a boy getting his first taste of how good a woman feels around his dick. It doesn’t matter how many times you pull yourself, nothing will beat spilling your cum into a tight cunt. It’s even better when that pussy belongs to the woman you love.

Lainey slumps forward, her head coming to rest on my shoulder as the final spasms of my hips die down. She’s done for, while getting a taste of her after so long has me barely softening. It’s not gonna take much for me to be ready for round two.

I’m still buried in her, enjoying the feel of her pussy holding me inside, when the difference in her weight pushes its way back into my head. She’s always been tall and curvy—not heavy but her body was lush in all the right places. The woman I’m holding in my arms is frail. Too slender and nothing like her normal self. It’s fucking scary.

Standing straight so she’s not leaning against the wall, I walk into the kitchen and place her on the island that separates the kitchen from the dining area. Pulling my softening cock out of her, I shrug off my cut and then my T-shirt. Putting my cut on over the ribbed tee I was wearing under my T-shirt, I pass it to her so she can clean up. While she’s doing that, I zip up my jeans and have a proper look at her.

My comment can be taken two ways. Her jutting collarbones look sharp enough to cut, the natural tone in her arms is gone and so is some of the fullness from her perky tits. The tattoo of St. Michael on a Harley on her hip and the rose tattoo that runs down her right side almost look too big for her now. I’m gonna smash Benji and Joel’s heads together for letting her get like this. They both promised me that they’d look after her.

Lainey’s cheeks flush, making me realize that she understood what I meant with my observation. She wraps her arms around herself, trying to hide her body from my prying eyes, and it’s then that I spy the white bandage on her right thigh. I’ve seen that before—a long time ago—and its presence makes my mouth run dry.

Heart pounding in my ears, I reach a suddenly shaky hand toward her leg. She sees me coming, reads my intentions in one glance, and scrambles backward on the countertop to get out of my reach. Her evasive tactics don’t stop me. I grab hold of her ankle and slide her in my direction.

“No. Mik. It’s not what you think, I promise.” The timid delivery of her protest, coupled with her continued fight to get away from me, confirm what I already suspect.

Holding her leg straight, I peel the edge of the bandage back. I find three thin cuts across the fleshiest part of her thigh. Across flesh that bears evidence that this isn’t the first fucking time. They’re not shallow because they’re done with a practised hand—a hand that belongs to the squirming woman in front of me. The bloody woman who swore on her little brothers’ life that she’d never do this to herself again.

“You promised.” She flinches, and I watch Lainey’s blue eyes become brighter as tears well. Pulling her into my arms, I pick her up with one arm behind her back and the other under her knees and hold her to my chest.

“I’m sorry, Mik. It won’t do it anymore. Not now I have you back—” She breaks off, sobbing softly as she snuggles into me. “You’re all I need. When I have you, I feel safe. In control.”

My heart fractures in my chest for my broken woman, although, anger rises within me at the same time. Not at Lainey; at the cunts who’ve caused her to get to the point where she feels like she needs to cut her own flesh with a fucking razor in order to feel some control over her life. My body’s vibrating with rage at the cockheads behind my incarceration. They’re the reason she’s back to square one. The shit she’d already been through nearly killed her, yet, they saw fit to bring more down on her head.

“Shhhh.” I try my best to soothe her, all the while the plans I made in prison go round and round in my mind. Tonight is about me and Lainey. Tomorrow, I’m taking the President’s patch from Timber and beginning to right the wrongs done to us. Starting with my fucking father-in-law-to-be. He’s gonna learn that the Black Shamrocks MC is now mine and anyone who disputes that will join him in Hell.

Looking around the bar of the Clubhouse, I search for Mik among the gyrating bodies that surround me. Now he’s free, my need for him seems to have intensified. It was bad when he was in jail and I couldn’t touch him, now it’s almost too much to bear if he’s not within arm’s length. The four hours since his release have been a sweet torture as I’ve tried to hide my increasing desperation to be near him while basking in the glow his return shines on us all.

I can’t see him. Panic takes hold. My heart starts racing and I begin sweating. A drop runs down my chest, between my breasts, and into my bra. The swirling in my stomach that’s become a constant symptom of my ongoing anxiety picks up, making me nauseous.

“Mik.” I stand on my tiptoes, attempting to look above the crowd while I call out to him. Bile rises in my throat. I press my hand against my breast bone in an attempt to calm my heart—it feels like it’s going to beat out of my chest. Swinging in a circle, dizziness overcomes me when I still can’t find him. My eyesight fades, dimming rapidly, making the faces of the people around me blurry.

“MIK,” I yell into the loud room full of people who’ve come to celebrate his freedom. Heads turn in my direction, mouths dropping open.

“Angel?” Mik’s voice comes from behind me. He puts his arms around my waist and pulls my back to his chest. It’s not close enough for me so I turn in his arms and bury my head in the crook of his neck. With strong hands on my hips, he pushes me away from him so he can look down at me.

Shrewd eyes measure my state, recognising my terror, and he doesn’t hesitate to give me what I need. With strong hands under my armpits, he lifts me in the air, so I can wrap my legs around his waist. Seconds later he lowers his mouth to mine and subdues my panic with the connection I’m craving. Our audience rewards us with their enthusiastic approval; fist pumps and laughing demands to “get a fucking room” filling the bar.

Maintaining our positions, Mik makes his way to a vacant couch. Sitting down, he ends our kiss and rearranges me until I’m straddling him with my back to the crowd. Resting my forehead on his, I take in his worried expression, guilt at my discernible weakness eating away at me. Lips pressed together in a tight line, Mik’s arms tighten around me, and he lets out a drawn-out sigh. “You’re a mess, Mo Ghrá. We need to get you back into therapy.”

As much as it pains me to admit how much I struggle without him, I nod my agreement.

“Therapy with Dr. Louise—” My man pauses, looking at me with eyes that twinkle with mischief. Lifting his hips, he rubs his hardening bulge against my core as he says, “And plenty of therapy from my cock. He knows what you need.”

The first real burst of humour that I’ve felt in months leaves me in the form of loud giggles when Mik winks at me. Once I start snickering at his blatant come-on, I can’t stop. Lowering my head onto his left shoulder, laughter bubbles from me, shaking my body and filling me with some much-needed relief. My man joins me, his matching laughter rumbling in his chest.

“What’s so fucking funny?” Timber’s gruff voice cuts into our moment. Mik stiffens under me for a short second before he lifts me off his lap and onto the couch beside him. He stands to greet his—our—best friend.

“Timber.” He holds out his hand, and they perform their usual weird-ass handshake before Mik pulls Timber into him for a man-hug and a slap on the back. “Congratulations, Dad. How’s it feel? I hear he’s a fucking giant like his old man.”

Timber chuckles as they both sit down on the couch. Mik angles himself so his back is half facing me, hiding me from Timber’s sight. The big blond giant shoots me a quizzical glance over Mik’s shoulder before he answers the questions. I shrug in response, unsure what Mik’s doing.

“It’s fucking awesome, Mad Dog. Bloody magic holding your own flesh and blood in your arms, knowing that you created this little person.”

The unnatural straightness of Mik’s shoulders and his ramrod posture alerts me to his unease so I slide forward until I’m pressed against him. Putting my legs around his hips before winding my arms around his waist, I cling to him like a backpack. His chest expands and retracts when he takes in a deep breath. Some of the stiffness leaves his frame, reducing my worry a little. I don’t understand his behaviour. Only thing I can think of is that he’s uncomfortable because Timber’s still wearing the President’s patch. The patch that’s his now he’s out.

“Can’t fucking wait until it’s our time,” Mik pats my hands where they sit on his stomach. “One day soon. Very bloody soon.”

Shifting so he can look at me over his shoulder, he smiles and then looks back at Timber without waiting to see if I agree. “But before that we need a wedding.”

It’s my turn to stiffen. Wedding? Baby? Hell, we’re not even engaged anymore so he’s getting a bit ahead of himself. Granted, we were together for over four years and planning our wedding until Mik walked away from me after I killed Brendan. The thing is, we were back together for less than forty-eight hours when he was arrested. I might need this man more than I need my next breath, however, we have a long way to go until I’m in any state to get married and become a mother.

“What’s Princess think about all this?” Timber covers the seriousness of his question with a laugh. I’ve confided in him many times about my internal conflict over diving headfirst back into a relationship with my ex-fiancé. The small amount of common sense that I manage to hold onto when I’m in Mik’s vicinity shouts at me to guard my heart, in case he changes his mind about us in the future. I feel Mik’s shoulders straighten once more, his answer barked in a voice that leaves no room for argument. “She knows who she wants. Just like she knows who loves her the most. Who’ll do any-fucking-thing to keep her.”

His confusing answer makes my eyebrows knit together. I don’t have time to examine his strange behaviour because both men stand and face each other. A silent conversation takes place in front of me, narrowed eyes and strained expressions telecasting the gravity of the moment. This is not a friendly exchange; something’s going down between the life-long friends. Timber clears his throat, ceding to Mik in this instance. “I’ll leave you both to it. JJ’ll kick my ass if I don’t get back to the hospital tonight before visiting hours’ finish.”

He holds out his fist to Mik, who regards it with suspicion for a second before he accepts the offer and meets his knuckles with his own. “Have fun. Tell JJ we said hi. We’ll come see her tomorrow.”

Nodding my agreement with Mik’s assertion, I speak up, determined to break the tension between them. “When do you get to bring Kaden home?”

Timber barely acknowledges me, answering me over his shoulder as he makes his way to the exit. “Tomorrow morning, hopefully.”

From my spot on the couch, I observe Mik watching Timber leave. His eyes are hard; his nose curled in a sneer. Hands on his hips, he nods at our giant-sized friend when he turns back to look at us before he goes through the door. I’m taken aback by the sadness in Timber’s expression as he regards first Mik and then me with a solemn air that I can feel all the way across the bar. He pulls the door shut behind him, disappearing from my sight but not from my worries.

“Like what you see?” Mik snaps at me, dragging me out of my vacant staring into the distance.

“Nothin’,” Mik mumbles. I peer up at him, trying to gauge his mood. He’s been in good spirits all night—even when he found the cuts on my thigh, he didn’t react like this—so his bad mood makes no sense to me. Especially since it seems to be directed toward Timber. The one person I’ve never seen him fight with. Without another word, Mik grabs me by the top of the arm closest to him and hauls me to my feet. Stunned at his actions, I gasp and pull from his grip. Our gazes lock together, my eyes widening with shock. Pure, unadulterated agony fills his hazel gaze.

Agony from what? He’s free, about to assume control of the Shamrocks, and he’s bought us a new house which allays some of my fears that he might leave me. We should be celebrating; not on the cusp of an argument. I was worried about what’s going down between him and Timber, but that falls by the wayside with the realization that the man in front of me bears little resemblance to the one they took away from me.

In the time it takes me to read his expression, Mik shakes off whatever it is that’s causing the pain in his gaze. Gripping the top of my arm again, he pulls me back to him. With one thick arm, he sweeps me off my feet and into his arms. Clasping me against his upper body in the classic bridal hold, he strides through the bar toward the bedrooms.

As is the Shamrocks way, everyone clears a path for us, patting Mik on the back and catcalling as we pass. After our tense moment minutes earlier, I’m certain that they’re barking up the wrong tree with their assumptions. Mik kicks the door to the room we call ours at the Clubhouse open, nudging it shut with his heel once we’re through it. Setting me back on my feet, I wait for him to speak—to commence the argument that we were on the tipping point of falling into back in the bar.

I was in the process of putting my hands on my hips to brace for our disagreement. My arms fall uselessly to my sides at his terse command. Surprise takes hold of me, followed quickly by confusion. Crossing my arms under my breasts, I stare at him with one eyebrow arched. The man who’s messing with my mind gazes back at me without blinking. Our silent standoff continues until Mik breaks it.

Closing the space between us, he pushes my arms down to my sides, taking hold of the bottom of my shirt and yanking it over my head. Then he pulls me toward him by the waistband of my jeans. “Next time I tell you to do something; fucking do it. Don’t stand there silently daring me to bend you over my knee and spank your ass.”

My heart jumps into my throat, anticipation heating my blood when I realize what he’s trying to do. Memories of the last time I let him dominate me circulate through my mind, giving me a highlight reel of one of the best nights of my life.

“Oh,” I say, taking a step back from him and unbuttoning my pants. Shimmying them down my hips along with my panties, I try my hardest to ignore the twinge of pain in my injured thigh as my pants move over the bandage. Mik’s way of resetting my psyche is much, much better than slicing my skin. As I step out of my clothes; I promise myself, the universe, and Mik that I won’t do it ever again. Once I’m standing naked before him, Mik twirls his index finger in a circle in the air. Understanding what he wants, I execute a full turn in front of him.

“Very nice. A little thinner than normal, but we can fix that now I’m home.” Trying not to let his honest appraisal upset me—he’s right, I have let myself get too skinny—I smile when he palms one of my naked breasts in each hand. Lifting them as if he’s testing their weight, he grins at me. “At least, I still have these bad boys to play with.”

Flicking a thumb over each of my nipples, they peak straightaway in response to his touch. I’ve missed him more than I can say, and so has my body. Every atom of my being, each nerve ending, and inch of skin yearns for his touch. It’s been too long; our quick session at the new house definitely wasn’t enough to satiate my unquenchable desire for him.

Although, I know that I should wait for him to tell me what to do next, my hands have a mind of their own. I’ve pushed his cut off his shoulders and grasped the hem of his T-shirt with both hands before he can protest. As I begin to lift it, Mik stops me with firm fingers around my wrists, before picking me up in one smooth motion and tossing me onto the bed.

Sprawled on my back, I prop myself upright with my elbows and wait for him to strip off. My eyes are dying to drink in the sight of his muscled, tattooed body. It’s been months since I was able to run my fingers down the ridges of his six-pack, free to dig my nails into his wide shoulders while he’s driving himself into me. God, just thinking about it has me pressing my thighs together. The throbbing in my core is a delicious prelude to what’s coming. I’m left disappointed when Mik kicks his jeans off and crawls onto the bed, covering me with his large frame.

“Shhhh.” He places a finger over my lips. I eye him through a narrowed gaze, not able to let my protest go without making my unhappiness known. The feral glint in his eyes as they roam my face is saying loud and clear that he’s not going to stand for any further insubordination from me. Knocking my arms out of the way, he chuckles when I let out a small squeal of surprise. My head and shoulders land on the mattress and I bounce slightly. I’m still swaying when big hands pull my thighs apart and I feel his hot breath blowing over my pussy. Tensing, I wait for his next move.

Please, lick me. Please, lick me. Please, lick me. I chant this over and over in my head. So far tonight hasn’t gone the way I expected so I’m not holding out hope that my man’s next move is going to be the one I’m anticipating.

His question hangs in the air. Challenging me. It’s time to choose which way tonight is heading—rough fucking or sweet lovemaking. The agony I glimpsed in his expression back in the bar, his strange behaviour toward Timber, and my own need to let go of the cast-iron control I require to function without him, settles the decision in a split second.

With a curt nod of his head, Mik acknowledges my acquiescence. All I can see is the top of his head, the copper-brown hair shorter than usual due to prison regulations, as he buries his face between my legs. I close my eyes and lay back, determined to enjoy every delicious morsel of attention he’s about to shower on me. In my mind, this is my reward for making it through the past five months.

Warm, soft lips clamp around my clit and suck, then his tongue flicks the sensitive nub. A finger prods at my entrance, sliding into my aching pussy, then back out again. With infinite patience, Mik works me over using his talented tongue and his finger. Adding a second and then a third digit, he has me on the verge of climaxing in a matter of minutes. A continuous moan that builds into low-pitched cries of pleasure leaves my mouth. They bounce off the walls, ringing in my ears as I near the precipice, teetering on the edge of what promises to be an earth-shaking orgasm.

His teeth nip at my clit and I scream from the unexpected pain. I claw at the sheets on either side of me and arch my back when he curls his fingers upward and hits that spot inside of me that sends me spiralling into a new stratosphere of pleasure and then straight into a soul-defining climax. I’m riding the crest; relishing the lava-like ecstasy that flows through my body, turning every limb languid, and wiping the anxiety I’ve been crumbling under from my mind. The epicentre of my world is Mik—his tongue, his teeth, his fingers—as he uses his many talents to soothe all of the damage rained down on me due to the treachery of the one person I should be able to trust above everyone else.

Just when I think I can’t stand anymore, Mik slows his ministrations and my climax begins to lessen to a more manageable level. I become aware of the sweat that’s dampening my body, my tight hold on the sheets, and my trembling thighs. Only God knows how I managed to survive without this man and his ability to wipe away all that’s wrong with my world with his tongue.

Except Mik’s not done. He quickens the pace of his fingers, draws my clit back into his mouth and sucking it again. My desire returns full force; building to a peak once more. I’m petrified of edging over the ledge. Afraid that I’ll pass out if I have another orgasm this soon.

A finger prods at my back entrance, before sliding into my backside. I’m left in two minds—call off the climax that’s stalking me by using my safe word or see if this feels as good as it did the first time he touched me back there many, many months ago. The decision’s taken out of my hands when Mik pumps his fingers in unison into both of my entrances, pushing me closer to another dose of ecstasy. My blood pounds in my ears, my entire body quivering around him as I reach the pinnacle for the second time mere minutes after my first climb.

“Oh, my God. I can’t. I can’t.” My screams are piercing as I attempt to survive my second orgasm. My eyes roll back in my head as I mount a final protest. “Mik. Stop. STOP.”

As I’m battling to withstand the onslaught of pleasure he’s wringing from me, Mik removes his fingers and makes his way up my body. He mashes his lips on mine, pushing his tongue into my mouth and his cock into my pussy without preamble. I gasp against his mouth as he drives his erection into me with savage force. Placing his arm under my hips, he lifts them so that he can push as far as possible into my body.

I try to meet him stroke for stroke in an effort to control the pace, but it’s impossible. His rhythm is manic. Wild. When I look up at his face, I’m met with eyes that are glazed, his expression fierce and dominating. I can taste cigarettes, the beer he drank in the bar, and myself on his tongue. He explores my mouth; his tongue tangling with mine in a similar cadence to the frantic pumping of his cock. It’s almost too much. The riot of sensations bordering on unbearable.

My hands push on his shoulders. Feeling the fabric of his T-shirt under my hands, I grip it and try to pull it over his head. I want skin on skin. My breasts rubbing against the sparse hair of his chest. My fingernails leaving long, red scratches along his back. I have the material halfway over his head when my hands are seized in an iron grip and lifted above my head. With one hand, Mik pins me. I strain against him, unhappy with his decision. He simply tightens his hold and fucks me harder. With pleading eyes, I beg him to let me undress him. I want to reacquaint myself with his body like he has mine. Mik’s answering glare has me submitting to his wishes this time. I let my arms relax and concentrate on the feeling of his shaft sliding within my channel. It’s euphoric. This perfect joining of our bodies melding our damaged souls together. Solidifying us as a unit again. God, I’ve missed him.

Tilting my lower body so his cock rubs over my G-spot, Mik slows to a more rhythmical tempo. He pumps into me with methodical intent, each upward stroke pushing me up the bed, leaving me a trembling mess beneath him. My inner walls grip him tightly as my third climax approaches without warning. It takes me by surprise, throwing me into a vortex that leaves my universe centred on the spot where our bodies are united and the agonizingly painful bliss it brings. I’m done. Absolutely spent. Unable to stand another second of his delectable torment.

“Angel. Angel. Angel,” I scream. I fight his hold on my wrists, squirming beneath him when he doesn’t stop. Mik ignores me. Instead, he continues to thrust himself into me, still chasing his release. He drops his forehead on mine. Staring deep into my eyes, unheeding of my repeated attempts to safe word, he fucks me with abandon until I feel him spasm within me as he comes.

“My Angel. Mine,” he groans as he fills me with his hot ejaculation. “Always mine.”

Tears I didn’t realize were coming, run down my cheeks at the naked need in his voice. His obvious pain forces me to let go of the fear tinged anger that had started building inside me when he ignored my use of my safe word. My heart is aching for him as I nod as much as I can with his head on mine and whisper, “Always.”

Fighting with all I have against the hands that are holding me down, my desperation kicks up a notch when I see the blade of a knife heading toward me. It’s a last-ditch effort, and in the back of my mind I know it’s fucking futile, but I use my free arm to pat the hard floor next to me. Laying as I am, pinned on my stomach by four heavy fuckers, my disadvantage is obvious. I need a weapon—anything; big or fucking small—to put the odds more in my favour. I touch a warm body, not the cold concrete I was expecting. Skin that’s smooth as silk glides under my fingertips and I grab hold of it in a firm grip. The body moves and then murmurs my name. “Mik?”

What the fuck? Mik? Nobody calls me that except Lainey. With that thought, I force my eyes open. The wood panelled ceiling of my room in the Compound greets me. I’m not pinned face down on the floor of the prison infirmary. I’m in my bed with my woman. Free. Exonerated. Safe.

Try telling that to my bloody racing heart and shaking hands, though. I feel like a pussy—a weak as fucking piss mamma’s boy. Who the fuck suffers from nightmares at the age of thirty-two? Lainey shifts in the bed beside me, reminding me of what dragged me out of my latest episode. I glance at her, my hand still on the curve of her hip, holding onto it like it’s my lifeline. Her blue eyes stare at me, her worry clear as day.

Forcing myself to let go of her, I sit up, stretching my neck and rolling my shoulders to release some of the tension still gripping me. My fucking body is still in fight or flight mode. I need to calm the fuck down before Lainey cottons on to my shit.

Flipping back the covers, I stand next to the bed and look down at her. With the small beams of moonlight that are streaming through the gaps in the curtains illuminating her blonde hair, she looks like the angel she always has been to me. The adoration that fills her gaze when she runs it over what she can see of my body fills me with contentment. As long as I’ve got her, I can make it through anything. My fuck-up after she killed Brendan isn’t gonna be repeated. There’s no walking away this time—or letting her go. We’re forever. I don’t care who tries to tear us apart. They’re not gonna win.

My hands curl into fists when I think about what’s been done to us already. My shoulders shake as my rage builds. I’m lost in thoughts of retribution—visuals of Beast and Thomas Taylor’s heads permanently detached from their treacherous bodies—until Lainey’s soft voice breaks through. “What’s with the T-shirt and boxers?”

When I came out of the ensuite bathroom after fucking her brains earlier, dressed in a T-shirt and boxers, she’d lifted one delicate eyebrow but hadn’t said anything. We usually sleep in the nude, entwined like a pair of serpents, so Lainey was in bed naked as the day she was born, waiting for me, just like she would before I was locked up. I’d pretended I hadn’t seen her questioning look or felt the way my cock had hardened at the sight of her bare breasts swaying, before she’d pulled up the covers to shield herself.

“Well, get un-used to it. I want to feel your skin touching mine.” Her cheeky smile warms the hole that’s been in my chest since I was jailed. Until I realize that there’s no way I can give her what she wants. Not tonight. Not ever.

“I’m going for a smoke,” I change the subject and head for the bedroom door without waiting for her answer. I’m pulling the door shut behind me when I hear her mutter with a giant serve of snark. “I guess smoking’s another thing you’ve gotten used to.”

Picturing the eye roll that would’ve accompanied her bitchy comment, I enter the dark and empty bar with a smile on my face. My woman’s returning to her normal self already. Grabbing a smoke out of the communal pack that sits on top of the bar, I light it up and inhale a steadying drag. Taking a seat at the bar, I prop my head on my hands and blow the smoke out my mouth, wishing it was as easy to clear my issues from my head as it is to empty my lungs.

Turning in my seat, I reach over and flick on the light to find Timber sitting on one of the bar stools about three feet away from me with a half-drunk beer in front of him.

“She’s already on my ass about it.” He chuckles, knowing as I do that she’s not gonna stop until she’s got her way. “What ya doing sitting in here in the dark?”

He drains the remainder of his beer and makes his way around to the other side of the bar. Pulling two beers out of the fridge, he pops the top off them both, sliding one toward me. I nod my thanks before taking a long drink. Timber does the same. We put our beers on the bar and face each other. I wait for him to speak, but he doesn’t. The silence that falls between us quickly becomes uncomfortable. A moment before I’m about to walk out, Timber lets out a long sigh, and throws himself onto the stool in front of me. “How many times do I have to tell you that nothing happened? That nothing’s ever gonna happen. I’m in love with JJ. Fuck, we’ve just had a kid. What more do you want from me?”

Standing, I reach over the bar and grab him by the front of his shirt with my free hand. He doesn’t fight me as I pull him closer. The colour drains from his face when I answer him with naked rage in my voice. “I want my President’s patch and I want you away from my woman. It’s pretty fucking simple. Do that and I’ll refrain from kicking your ass for being a fucking snake.” Yanking him until our noses are almost touching, I continue. “Any part of that you don’t understand, brother?”

I make what used to be a term of endearment—a way to show him that he meant more to me than almost anyone else—sound like an insult. He’s no longer my brother. That relationship died the moment Beast let the cat out of the bag. My best friend—the fucker I’ve trusted with my life more than once—is in love with my woman. Apparently, my blind loyalty to him had hidden what was clear for everyone else to see. He wanted me out of the way, so he had a shot with Lainey.

Thinking back over their secret little conversations, his sickeningly cute nickname for her, the way he opened his house up to her after we broke up, makes my fucking blood boil. He didn’t just cross the line—he danced over the bloody thing, pissed all over our brotherhood, and fucked up any chance of us ever getting back to the way we once were. If he’d been honest, I could’ve swallowed it. Hiding it—letting Beast use it as ammo against me—was a pussy move. There’s no coming back from that.

“You think Princess is gonna let you get away with that? She’s my best friend—like you are. She’ll know you’re up to something. The last thing you’d call that woman is stupid.”

I let go of his shirt and drop my cigarette in his unfinished beer. “You let me worry about Lainey.”

Walking to the archway that leads back to the bedrooms, I turn and spit a final threat at him. “You tell her what’s going on, you won’t make it to your son’s first birthday.”

“She already knows, you fucking cockhead. I told her and she shut me down because she’s in love with you. I fucked up. I admit that. But you, you’re taking this too far. Try to pin her down and control who she’s friends with and she’ll fucking cut you loose.”

“That’s it, dickhead. I’d promised myself I wasn’t gonna lay a fucking hand on you outta respect for the years you’ve had my back but I’m not letting you get away with this anymore. New father or not, you deserve to have your fucking head knocked off your shoulders.”

Pounding a fist on the doorframe after I yell my threat at him, I start back in his direction. A growl of frustration leaves me when I’m pulled to a stop by strong arms around my waist. My annoyance increases when Joel slides past me in the doorway and I discover that Benji’s the asshole who’s trying to prevent me from getting my hands on fucking Timber. Joel holds his hands in front of my face. “Whoa. Calm down, Mad Dog.”

The obvious effort that it takes him to confront me and the sight of his mangled hands are the only things that make me come to a halt. “Joel. Brother. Get the fuck outta my way. I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Just listen, you headstrong cunt. You start smashing his fucking face in and you’re gonna wake Maddi. Then, she’s gonna kick your ass.” Benji’s stern words are growled in my ear. Letting out a frustrated breath, I bounce my right leg up and down in an attempt to calm myself. Waking up Lainey is the last thing I need.

Gripping Benji by his wrist, I pull him from behind me with one arm until he’s facing me. Little fucker might be strong, but he’s never been a match for me. “Grab me like that again and I’m gonna rip your arm off and beat you to death with it.”

His face is a carbon copy of his twin sisters and so is his reaction to my threat. He rolls his eyes at me and shrugs. “Yeah. Yeah. Heard it all before. Just take a seat and listen.”

Joel pats me on the back and limps beside me to one of the barstools. Once my ass is planted, I look at the three amigos who seem to be hell bent on pissing me off tonight and wait for them to begin. They look between each other, their uncertainty filling the atmosphere. Joel looks at Benji, Benji shakes his head at him and turns to Timber. My former best friend grimaces, pulling his hair from its elastic, shaking it down around his shoulders before gathering it up and retying it in exactly the same place as before. I snicker at him, knowing his fiddling means that he’s inwardly shitting himself. It’s on the tip of my tongue to pay him out about his obvious tell but the memory of his deceit stops me at the last moment. The distance between us is gonna take some getting used to; considering we’ve had each other’s back since before we started school.

Shifting on my stool, I prop my right heel on the footstep and jiggle my leg once more. The silence continues, my temper increasing the longer it lasts. My leg bounces faster until I can’t stand it anymore. “Either you fuckers tell me why you stopped me from knocking this asshole’s head of his shoulders or you get the fuck outta my way and leave us—”

“You know, once upon a time, you were much easier to get on with.” Joel cuts in.

“That was before Lainey was hurt, you were crippled, Benji turned into a full-blown addict, and your fucking father had me locked up.” Fuck. When I list it like that, the amount of shit we’ve been through blows my fucking mind. And, that’s only scratching the surface. “Then to top it all off I find out my best friend wants my woman.” Pointing a finger at Joel, then Benji, my tone dares them to argue with me. “You know, the woman who’s been to hell and back already? The one I asked you two pricks to look after for me. The poor bitch who’s tucked up in my bed right now looking like a shadow of herself.”

Standing, I decide I’m done with their attempted intervention. It’s obvious that they only pulled this shit to save Timber’s ass. They have nothing useful to say.

“We get it. We’re the screw-ups and you’re Saint Michael. It’s not like you’ve ever messed up, hey? Dropped the ball and, I don’t know, run away from the woman you’re criticising us about.” Joel goes right for my jugular. Benji nods his agreement while Timber has enough sense not to make his feelings known. “My point is, we’ve all let her down. Hell, she’s let herself down.”

I open my mouth to tell him to fuck off, but I stop myself. The little asshole has a point. What does the bible say? Let he who is without sin, cast the first stone. Well, I’m a sinner through and through, there’s no denying that, so I should probably shut up. I sit back down and wait for Joel to continue.

“The thing is, we can’t change the past, so let’s work out how we’re going to deal with the shit that’s going down now instead of wasting time fighting over shit we can’t undo.”

“You know; I really don’t like you sometimes.” Benji pipes up. “This whole wise old man shit you have going on is really fucking annoying.”

“You’re just jealous that I can string more than three words together without needing to say fuck.”

Benji spins on a full circle on his stool, then shrugs in his little brother’s direction and grins. “Nah, I think it’s because whenever you speak, I get the urge to turn myself into a pretzel and chant kumbaya.”

He pinches his fingertips together, closes his eyes, and pretends he’s meditating. A smile twitches at the edge of my lips but I refuse to let it break free. Not content with mocking Joel once, he then holds his hand to his mouth and gasps. “Oh dear, lordy me. Did little old me just manage a whole sentence without cursing? Wonders will never cease. Hell is beginning to cool as we speak. It’s the end of the world as we know it.”

I can’t hold my smile this time. He’s always had to be the one to break the tension, petrified as he is by anything remotely emotional. It’s what made him turn to drugs in the first place.

“All right. That’s enough.” I need to break this up before it turns into a punch-up. Benji shoots Joel a look that says he’s not going to let what he just said slide.

“Fuck me.” Running my fingers through my hair, I close my eyes and draw in a deep breath. Letting it out, I grab another smoke and light it, sticking it between my lips and inhaling the addictive poison. “What shit’s going down now? I was told that everything’s sorted.”

Timber finally finds his balls and speaks. “I was gonna wait until we had church tomorrow but, I guess, there’s no time like the present.”

I eye the President’s patch sewn on the lapel of his cut. Here’s hoping he hasn’t got too attached to wearing it. It’s mine. Has been since birth. As the eldest of the third-generation sons, I’ve been groomed to assume the position. Despite, Beast’s machinations to change that fact.

“You think?” If the sarcasm in my tone could be bottled and sold, I’d be a fucking millionaire. Wisely—who ever thought I’d accuse him of being wise—he doesn’t take my bait.

“Thomas Taylor.” I grind my teeth at the mere mention of the cunt behind everything. Timber lifts his eyebrows, acknowledging my anger. “He’s after Benji. We knew that was gonna happen when he blackmailed him for the T-shirt, only problem is we didn’t expect him to use the law to do it.”

I nod; we did know that we were strapping a gigantic target on Benji’s back by having him work as a double agent. The strategy was to turn Beast’s plot on its head, so they had nothing to use to hold me in prison with all possible avenues for repercussions mapped out and planned for. “How?”

Benji speaks up, “By using my habit to put me away. Word on the street is that he’s got some of the Mavericks to turn witness to my buying and selling. An arrest is imminent.”

“So? Get a message to him reminding him that we won’t hesitate to drop the baby bombshell on his head.” I shrug. “Why is this a problem? I know he’s reacted quicker than we expected but he’s got nothing. Fuck me dead. This could’ve waited until morning.”

Benji clears his throat. Red spots appear on his cheeks and he ducks his head before he answers me. “Thomas has made amends with his father-in-law. He’s working to bury it so that it doesn’t come out and embarrass his daughter. We’ve lost our leverage.”

My gut starts to churn like a fucking washing machine. There’s no way I’m going back inside. “No, we haven’t lost a thing yet. Burying shit takes time. We need to find the kid first then it’ll be fucking impossible for them to hide a fucking thing.”

Sneering, I turn my lips up in a sly smile. “I’ll get Kid on it. You’ll be handing that patch over tomorrow at church, let’s not forget.”

Pushing to my feet, I salute Joel and ignore my ex-best friend. Facing my woman’s twin, I keep my voice strong, even as my own uneasiness at what they’ve just laid on me tries to drag me back into the nightmare I just left. “Benji, go to rehab. I promise that we’ll make sure nothing happens to you. You have my fucking word. I’ll kill the cunt with my own hands before I let him put any of us behind bars again.”