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Dog shrugged. “She’s your old lady, no?”

“Yeah, but this kind of shit isn’t something I share with the club.”

“It’s just me,” said Dog.

He’d been through a lot with his VP. The old bastard had stuck with him through heaven and hell over the years. Forge trusted him more than any other, but his trust was never unconditional. He’d experienced too much shit growing up to believe otherwise. Deep down, even the most upstanding man had hidden demons. Anyone could be bought for the right price and used to betray those closest to them.

It was smart to keep his armor tight, to trust no one but himself. Weakness wasn’t tolerated in his world. He wouldn’t have been prez if he had a weak stomach or wore his heart on his sleeve. Being a cold motherfucker was part of the job. He got shit done. Protected the Hell’s Slaves MC with his life every day. It was the only life he knew.

Now his world was thrown off its axis because of one little girl. He briefly closed his eyes. Forge swore he could smell her sweet scent and see the blue of her eyes.

“Boss?”

He snapped back to the present. “You want something?”

“Tomorrow’s the day. We haven’t made a move for weeks. It’s not too late to negotiate.”

A rival club wanted to share some connections. They claimed it was a give and take, a mutually beneficial relationship. Forge was no fool. They wanted to move in on his turf and eventually wipe them off the face of the earth. Only Forge didn’t plan to negotiate. He planned to color the ground red and light them up tonight. They’d meet up with so much fucking firepower strapped to their backs that any peace talks would end before they started.

“No, I’m not handing over what’s mine. You think that’s a good plan, don’t you, Dog? Since when do you bend over for our rivals?”

“They had some good points. They have connections we need to expand in the east. Can’t hurt to hear

them out.”

Forge scowled. He grabbed his hammer and slammed it down on the anvil. “No negotiating.” He tossed the tool and stormed out the forge. What he needed right now was Beth’s sweet innocence. She was the only thing that made him happy. Before her, he’d been existing, coasting through life with nothing left to make him human. His reputation was earned, and every single man in his club knew that firsthand.

“Forge, come on. Don’t be an asshole.”

He ignored Dog and bound up the steps to his room. She’d probably be hiding away again, if he knew her at all. He’d been pushing her to become more independent around the clubhouse, and she’d been trying, but it always felt forced.

His control was wavering lately. When he’d come upstairs, she’d often be sprawled out on his bed, reading or daydreaming. She was so fucking tempting, all those soft curves to squeeze, huge tits to suck, and he could live between her legs. What he wanted was to claim her, to breed her, to fuck her so long and hard that she’d never doubt who owned her.

But she was innocent. Precious. The complete opposite of the women he’d lived around all his life. For the first time, ever, he wanted to do things right, and taking her virginity before she loved him would make him worse than a bastard. She was only twenty-four. And it was bad enough he was never letting her go free.

He pushed open the door.

“It’s your call. I was only giving you another perspective.” Dog was behind him in the doorway.

Beth wasn’t in the bedroom.

He pushed past his brother, not in the mood to discuss business. Forge preferred his men to follow him without question, to do what needed to be done to keep them on top. It was a dog-eat-dog world, and he didn’t plan to become Mother-fucking-Teresa now because they wanted ties in the eastern cities. He’d get new turf like he always had—without selling out.

“Beth?” he called out when he reached the yard.

Dog kept shadowing him when he entered the kitchen. Some of the women were peeling vegetables in the dim light. “Any of you seen Beth?”

One shook her head.

“I asked you a damn question,” he shouted.

“No, Forge. I haven’t seen her today.”

“I saw her earlier walking in the yard,” said another one.

“When? What time?”

“Hours ago. When she never came back, we started prepping for dinner.”


Tags: Sam Crescent, Stacey Espino Breeding Season Erotic