Page 33 of Beast

“Since the fuck when?”

“Since she and I discussed it last night.” I swing my leg over my bike.

“You haven’t so much glanced at a woman since Jennifer. What’s special about this woman that I’ve never met? She got a magic pussy or something?”

I narrow my eyes at him. It’s a warning to back off. He shakes his head and climbs on his bike.

“Her uncle owes a debt to the club and has no way of paying it off. I need a wife. She’s single. See where I’m going with this?”

The comprehension registers on his face. “This is the girl Gaston attacked. So not a love match then.”

I slide on my sunglasses. “Far from it.”

He actually looks disappointed.

“Do you think this getting married is a good idea, right now?”

“It’s now or fucking never.” I don’t tell him I’d prefer fucking never.

“Then can I suggest you do it immediately.” He glances over his shoulder to where the girl sits lifelessly on the cobblestones. “You and I know shit is about to hit the fan. The club needs you focused. Marry the girl now, before the bloodshed begins.”

He's right. I need to deal with the Belle situation swiftly so I can focus on dealing with the Unhinged Psychos. Because right now Belle is a distraction, and I can’t afford to be distracted.

Hitting the ignition, my Harley rumbles to life. Lars does the same, and we both ride off into the afternoon sun.

When we arrive backat the clubhouse, Gambit is waiting in the underground garage for us.

“Beast, you’re needed in the security room, there’s something you need to see.”

He must’ve seen us approach on the security cameras.

“It will have to wait.”

I want to get the sample to Opie so he can take a look at it immediately. In charge of overseeing the phantasia operation, he’s an experienced chemist and will be able to pull this fake shit apart so we have a better understanding of what we are dealing with.

Gambit looks uneasy. “Yeah, this particular situation can’t wait. It’s about your guest…”

Of course it is. Five minutes in the clubhouse and she’s already a thorn in my side. Even last night when she backed down, I knew the fight hadn’t left her.

“What has she done now?”

“It’s not what she’s done but what’s she’s doing,” Gambit replies.

“Fine. Show me.”

Lars and I follow Gambit out of the garage and through the clubhouse and into the security room.

Because of who we are and what we do—not to mention the people we piss off—our security is state of the art. Everything is monitored in the security room near the front of the castle.

It’s where I find Bram sitting in front of a bank of surveillance monitors, each one of them live streaming from the many cameras installed around the property. He’s focused on one in particular where Belle is attempting to climb out the second-story window of her bedroom. There is no balcony. No conveniently placed lattice. No pergola roof to jump onto. Just a frail drainpipe that should have been replaced decades ago.

Christ, is she really going to shimmy down the drainpipe?

“She’s been sitting on the edge for the past ten or fifteen minutes,” Gambit explains. “I didn’t think she would attempt the climb, but clearly I underestimated her.”

Lars sits down in a chair and puts his boots on the table. “So this is the screamer,” he says and I throw him a warning look which he ignores. “I like her, she has spunk. Not to mention balls, how high is that window?”

“Thirty feet,” says Bram, shaking his head. “She’s going to break her neck.”

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