Page 58 of Duke

My breath hisses out through my teeth. She’s never gonna be safe until Zach is dealt with and even then, she’s always gonna have a target on her back if she’s with me.

My throat burns. I always knew a man who’s damned doesn’t deserve an angel. But I thought… maybe God had forgiven me for what I did.

For what I carry.

I thought I loved Trev’s wife. When we served together, he invited me home every holidayand like an idiot—I went.

I should’ve stopped going when my feelings for his wife became more than friendly. I was young. A fool. Looking back, I know I didn’t love her. It was the idea of what she represented that I craved for myself.

But Heather’s touch was a balm on my war-weary soul and fatigued body. My eyes lingered on her longer than necessary.And ifmy hand brushed against hers when passing dishes at the table, I told myself it was innocent.

When she dropped a cup and bent down to retrieve it—giving me a view of her plunging neckline where her satin bra cupped breasts peeked at me; I knew she was just as hot for me.

The first time I bent her over the couch and jerked her panties to one side, plunging in deep—I knew I was going to hell.

Trev had drunk a case of beer and passed out in their bedroom. I knew he was twenty feet away, but she felt too good to stop. I took her bare in the middle of the damn living room on Thanksgiving Day, only pausing to reach down to grab the remote. The football game in surround sound covered her cries every time my dick hit a touchdown against her G-spot.

Feeling my best friend’s wife’s sweet pussy clench around my cock like she was made for me—made my eyes roll back in my head.

But she wasn’t made for me.

I was fucked up back then and looking for love.

She panted my name telling me she didn’t love him anymore; that they were high school sweethearts whose relationship had passed its due date. But she couldn’t end it while he was on tour.

She was gonna do it as soon as he got out.

But he didn’t.

He died instead.

Guilt over what I did kept me from going back.

I’ll never know if Trev knew I was doing his wife.

I drank for days after I got released from the hospital in Germany I was airlifted to, hurt in the same blast that killed him.

“Fuck. I’m sorry Trev. So sorry. I wish it were me—not you,” I utter to the moon and stars streaking overhead as Smith barrels down the PCH towards San Diego.

The only thing that’s important to me now is protecting Shanna Flynn from the club life. I need to get her out; not force her in. As God and Trev as my witness, I will do this. Maybe, saving her from this life is my penance. To let her go, help her pursue a dream that doesn’t include me—will cut what’s left of my heart out. But it’s what I need to do. It’s the only sacrifice worth making now.

Before the sun rises—I’m going to be in the middle of a civil war. The fight for the club is on my shoulders and before the sun sets tomorrow, I’ll either be dead or attending my coronation as King of Creed.

A man who has seen less evil than I would be shitting his pants right now. Esteban Cortez saunters towards me across the desert terrain. Half his face is in shadow, the other half illuminated by the moonlight. He’s as built as I am, but a few inches shorter. His arms covered in ink, eyes pitch black as hell, he ignores me speaking directly to Carmen, “You all right?”

She nods.

“Come to me.”

On a sob, she runs, and he holds his arms out wide.

“She’s his sister.” Smith grunts, taking out a pack of cigarettes offering me one.

“Let’s ride. I have a gringo to kill. His pack’s gonna need a new leader.”

“Zach is gonna be hard to find. He knows that his ranks are split, and half is out for his blood.”

“S?. With my crew. We’ll have the numbers. There’s only so many places a rat like him can hide. After what he did to my sister and my VP’s woman… he’s as good as dead.”

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