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“Maybe,” I muse aloud, helpless.

“Look, bro. With everything going on, I understand waiting to tell her you’re her husband, even if I don’t agree with it. You know Candy best. I’ll keep my mouth shut as long as you promise to come clean to her after the mission is done. She deserves to know she’s attached to you—for better or worse.”

Weighing my options, I raise my face to the late fall sky, a pink and purple sunset disappears into the earth. Ziggy isn’t wrong. Transparency is vital in a happy and healthy relationship. Under any other circumstance, I would’ve told Candy already. At least, I’d like to believe I’d have told her by now.

The more I think about the reasons I shouldn’t tell Candy yet, the more convinced I am I should wait.

Confronting a past abuser is serious shit. I’m not willing to clear my conscience and possibly risk upsetting Candy prior to going undercover.

I close my eyes for a moment, committing to my decision before opening them again and looking at my friend with conviction. “I promise to tell her when this is all behind us.”

Ziggy pats me on the shoulder before standing to walk back to our bikes. “It’s your funeral, bro. I’ll make sure we bury you wearing your cut for the occasion.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CANDY

We’re four days away from the mission, and it’s more of the same: Piero giving updates if there are any, more scenarios to work through for the undercover portion of the operation, therapy with Brandon to check in with my mental well-being, and finishing with the crew handing me my ass in the gym.

It’s exhausting work—physically and mentally.

Butch has been at my side through it all, as he will be when we go to the auction, too. He sits with me when we’re being debriefed in the mornings. When I have questions about the investigation, he answers them, not censoring any of the material—something I appreciate. With roleplaying, he guides me through the scenarios like a director in a movie. And while I’m getting tossed around on the mats, he does his workouts in the gym to monitor my self-defense training.

He’s a true partner, an equal, outside the bedroom.

Behind closed doors, he’s on his knees, worshipping my body and letting me fuck him as I please.

In the beginning, I worried the power dynamic between us wouldn’t be long-term and Butch would eventually want to take the power back. The longer I’m with him, the more my concern dissipates. Butch shows no sign of growing bored with his sub role. If anything, he’s being more vocal about me trying certain sexual things on him.

And the delayed gratification is becoming our favorite kink. Bondage and mild spanking are fun, but the real pleasure comes from watching Butch fight his climax until I’m more than satisfied. Got to give the man credit—most men would fall apart fast with the toying.

As I’m daydreaming about the fun we had the night before, a throw pillow beans me in the head, bringing me right back to the present.

“Earth to Candy! You sure you don’t want any?” Ebony asks me, holding up the nearly empty wine bottle.

The MC ladies are all gathered around the living room at Jo’s house, watching some trashy reality TV show while eating pizza. Wine is a staple of these social events. But three out of our six-lady crew aren’t drinking due to being pregnant or suspected pregnancy. This leaves Ebony and Red splitting a bottle of Pinot Grigio, giggling as they get tipsy.

“No, thanks,” I say, taking a swig from my water bottle. With the mission on the horizon, I’m opting to stay hydrated.

“You’re taking this job pretty seriously,” Red says. She hiccups, reaching for the wine bottle in Ebony’s hand.

Ebony dumps the rest of the wine in her own empty glass before Red can steal it. “No more for you, missy. Hiccups lead to upchucks.”

Simone groans, looking a little green. She cups her hand over her mouth. “Don’t talk about it. Gosh. I think I’m going to be sick.”

She rushes for the bathroom, with Jo chasing after her as fast as her pregnant body can waddle. A moment later, we hear Simone get sick, with her sister soothing her with calming words.

“Another one bites the dust,” Ebony says, swirling her wine in her glass, completely unaffected by Simone’s more-than-likely pregnancy vomiting.

Red bites her lip, looking down at the area rug at her feet, but not before I see her eyes fill with tears. Pregnancy topics always make her sad. Normally, she hides it well. The alcohol has made her more vulnerable. I asked her once if she wanted to talk about it. She shook her head, and I didn’t press the issue, sensing it was something too painful for her to share.

Opal gives me a warm smile, patting the giant black beast lying across her lap. Hades adores Opal, always staying close to her when he’s not with Jo. He’s not a fan of me as much. But Runt, the smaller Cane Corso with the silver fur, likes me enough. She lies at my feet, waiting for me to drop her some pizza crumbs.

“It’s good that you’re taking your position on the team seriously,” Opal says. “I can see being part of this assignment—whatever it entails—is important to you. And I’m happy seeing you happy.”

“Aww. Thanks, hun. I am happy. For the first time in my life, I feel like I have meaning.”

“And a hot man,” Ebony adds, raising her glass to me in a toast before taking a big sip.

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