Page 60 of Forsaking All Others

“Been cleaning up your fucking messes for years while you chase that woman,” King sneers, roughly cutting through the stitching. “I’m done, now.” He pulls himself up and his eyes find mine. “You’re gonna get us all fucking killed for that gash.” He tosses his patch at me. “Rather take my bullet from you,” he spats.

Gash.

Molten anger rushes through my veins and before I can think better of what I’m about to do, I reach behind me and pull the gun from the waistband of my pants. He wants my bullet, well calling Holly a piece of easy pussy just secured him one. I don’t get the chance to pull the safety back because Ghost cracks him upside the head with the butt of his gun, knocking him out. King drops to the floor, but Ghost ain’t done with him. He wedges the sole of his worn boot against King’s throat and diverts his eyes back to me.

“Some things you just don’t ask permission for,” he growls.

I lower my gun and nod.

Defending our queen’s honor is one of those things.

Chapter Sixteen

Maverick Burnside

I don’t rememberthe last time I watched Holly sleep in my bed, but I’m pretty sure the woman was naked and recovering from being thoroughly fucked until the wee hours of the morning. Her legs probably ached, her sweet pussy throbbed, and her skin bore the markings of my scruff.

Unfortunately, that’s not the case this time.

Gripping the arms of the chair, I pull myself to my feet and reach for my kutte that she haphazardly left dangling from one of the knobs on the dresser drawer. I’m guessing that’s where she found the shirt she’s wearing too.

Sighing, I shrug the leather on and make my way toward the bed. Taking a seat on the edge, I bring my hand to her face and gently brush the hair from her face.

Out cold.

No surprise there. When her head hit the sheets, she had been going on close to forty-eight hours with no fucking sleep. Add all the emotional baggage she was forced to carry over that time and I’m sure the woman could sleep for three days straight and it still wouldn’t be enough.

I’d let her be if I could, but a lot happened after her show last night.

“Holly, baby, wake up,” I call, gently running my fingers up and down her arm. Don’t remember the last time I woke her up either but trailing my fingertips down her arms sure as fuck ain’t the way I did it. If memory serves me correctly Holly liked her wakeup calls best with my tongue lapping at her pussy and my thumb stroking her clit.

She stirs slightly and murmurs something intelligible.

“Holly,” I call again. “Need you to wake up, baby.”

Her eyes flutter open. It takes a second for her to focus and when she does, she blinks at me.

“Mav…” she whispers, swallowing.

“Mornin’ baby,” I murmur.

Don’t remember the last time I said those words either.

She sits up and my hand falls away from her arm as she leans her back against the wrought iron headboard. Pushing her hair away from her face, her eyes dart around the room and then settle on me.

“It wasn’t a nightmare,” she whispers.

Woman knows how to punch a man in the throat.

“No, it wasn’t,” I confirm.

“Right.” Then her still sleepy eyes get as big as saucers and her back goes rod straight. “The kids.”

“They’re out in the common room with Leftie. I gave them breakfast and had words with Tara and Shep…made them understand what happens now.”

She narrows her eyes.

“What exactly happens now?”

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