Page 57 of Property of Shotgun

“Then I should tell you that I’m even more horny when I’m pregnant.” She licks her lips. “Once the second trimester hits, you won’t be able to leave the house. I’ll be on your dick morning, noon, and night.”

I bend my head, nipping at her lips. “I think I can deal with it.”

“Oh, shit, they’re back,” Taxi shouts. “Hide the cocaine and take the gun out of Legend’s hands. Did you get a long sleeve shirt to hide Killian’s tattoo?”

Jade’s eyes go wide, and she sheds my block. When I turn around I find all the brothers gathered around the common area.

Taxi winks at her, “Relax, Jade. The boys asleep in their room.”

Theirroom.

Not Irish’s room.

But theirs.

“All went well,” Biggie shares. “We may have hyped them up on sugar and fed them one too many slices of pizza. But they’re good. Killian needs a bath in the morning, though. We were only partially kidding about the tattoo thing. Jersey, here, gave him a sleeve with some washable markers.”

“Incoming,” Jersey says, pointing his beer toward the surveillance footage displayed on the flat screen televisions positioned over the bar. I don’t bother looking, my people are here. The boys are safe and sound in their room, and Jade is standing between my legs, her back against my chest, my arms wrapped tight around her waist as she sips her wine. Jesus Christ himself could walk through those doors, and I wouldn’t give a fuck.

Jade laughs as I nuzzle her neck. “You don’t want me to finish my wine, do you?”

“What would give you that idea?”

She turns her head slightly as she reaches behind her to wind her arm around my neck, lowering her voice so only I can hear her. “Your cock pressed against my back.”

“Can’t help it. I’ve been hard since our ride.” And even harder when we started talking about having a baby together. Now, it’s all I can think about.

“Isn’t that Bella’s car?” Jersey asks. Jade turns her head, her eyes darting to the screen over the bar. I’m convinced the woman loves torturing me. However, the movement gives me the perfect opportunity to nuzzle her neck.

“Yeah, that’s her car,” Jade confirms. “That’s not Bella, though.

My lips leave her neck, and I glance up at the screen. My eyes immediately narrow at the figure extraditing himself from the driver’s seat, but then I catch movement directly behind Bella’s car.

“That’s one of Mondestino’ guys,” I say, immediately turning to where Biggie sits at the other end of the bar. The woman he’s been fucking more regularly, a stripper from Lipstick & Lace, quickly becomes a forgotten thought as he pushes her away and vacates his stool. He comes closer, taking a better look at the surveillance footage, his eyes zeroing in on the black Suburban parked directly behind Bella’s car.

“And that’s fucking Mondestino,” Biggie growls. His gaze cuts to me, his eyes conveying what I’m thinking.

We should’ve fucking killed this motherfucker already. Wiped out his entire organization. That’s always been the plan. But just when we’re ready to strike, he pulls a wild card, making us believe it only benefits us to keep him breathing. First he delivered the fucking Albanians, then we started making money hand over fist with the expansion of Lipstick & Lace. All that aside, I’m mostly to blame for why he’s still alive. I got soft after Jade and I got together. The hunger in my veins had little to do with revenge, and everything to do with my woman.

Loving her.

Fucking her.

Building a goddamn life with her.

“Where’s Guido?” Biggie snarls.

“He went back to his room with Tatiana, and Christa,” Skid shares.

“Well, go get him. Tell him the fucking party is over.”

I turn my attention back to Jade, giving her lips a quick peck. “Go to my room. I’ll be there shortly.”

Searching my eyes, she purses her lips, hesitating only a fraction of a second before she lowers her glass to the bar. “Don’t keep me waiting too long, Shotgun.”

“I don’t intend too.”

Before she can untangle herself from between my legs, the front door to the clubhouse swings open, and Mondestino struts inside, donning a black, custom-tailored suit. The top few buttons of his crisp white dress shirt are undone, and usually perfectly combed hair is disheveled. A dark expression clouts his face as the man who was driving Bella’s car holds the door open behind him.

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