Page 39 of Sinister Red

“So you’re saying Tank, Gunner, and Breaker are all going to retire for no solid reason, and I’m the asshole that should step into Tavish MacAllister’s big ass shitkickers?”

“Think about it, Snipe.” Spider nods. “The club was your very first concern when the possibility of sailing without a captain came up. You started spouting shit about the positions that haven’t been filled in years, immediately looking at the big picture and how to keep things afloat. And I know you well enough to know that while we were talking about the deal with the O’Malleys, you were looking at that situation from all angles and thinking about everything that would factor into making it work.”

Damn that guy for always being right.

I totally was weighing all options and figuring out how we could make it happen. That’s just how my brain works though, it always has been. It had to be when there were nights I had to scavenge for my next meal or find a place to stay. Big picture for small goals because if you miss one minor detail, you’re fucked.

But still…

“So you’re telling me, neither you nor Jackal want the position?”

They both shake their heads.

“You’d be happier as VP?”

“Fuck no,” Jackal barks as Spider just grunts, “No thanks, man.”

“This is fucking ridiculous.” I start to pace and feel around my jacket for my smokes. “I literally just got out of prison a month ago, and I come back to the club falling apart and you asshats nominating me to put it back together.”

Brick smirks as he lifts one hand in the air. “All in favor of Snipe as the Wulven Kings MC president when Tank steps down.”

Every last one of these bastards agrees with him, but the second I spin to face the eight of them with both middle fingers raised, our current president, VP, and SAA all come walking down the hall.

“Aye, Snipe. Seems we need ta have a chat.” Tank smiles wide as he claps a hand on my shoulder and gives it a firm squeeze. “‘Specially since ye boys have beaten me to da punch.”

Well, fuck me.

CHAPTEREIGHT

SOFIE

“That’sthe whole point of a surprise, Harlow.” I press my phone between my shoulder and ear as I reach for a bottle of white wine. “If I told Lewis about my plan, then he wouldn’t be surprised and it would be—”

“Another super boring night with that schmuck, without any conversation or toe-curling sex.”

I roll my eyes as I set the bottle in my basket. “He’s notsuper boring, and our sex life is… it’s fine.” Not really, but I don’t need to elaborate on that. Harlow already hates my fiancé for about a dozen reasons, and divulging details about how cobwebs are collecting on my lady bits will only fuel that hatred. Especially since she loves to tell me all about the various ways her and Marblesbang like bunnies.

My best friend huffs. “That was very convincing, Sof. Your sex life with the man you intend to marry isfineand he’s only mildly boring. I’m positively thrilled for you.”

Here we go again.

Harlow is and always will be my ride or die bitch and I love her like a sister, but this passive aggressive argument is getting old, even more so when it circles back to the conversation I still refuse to have with her. Almost seven years and I won’t say a word about what happened back then, not to Harlow, my dad, or anyone else that tries to pry it out of me.

Did it completely derail the course of my future? Absolutely.

Was it what I wanted to happen, what I intended to do or play out in a way that makes me feel anything other than totally heartbroken and full of regret? Not in the slightest, but it couldn’t be helped. I had a lot to consider at that point in time and none of it included making my biggest fears a reality. I love my dad, but I wasn’t going to end up like him, not after watching him break and stay broken for such a long time.

And yeah, I’m well aware of how shitty I handled the situation, but I can’t go back and change that. No matter how much I wish I could because despite my fear, I didn’t do right by the one person I should have, and that’s a regret I’m going to live with for the rest of my life.

“Lewis isn’t that bad.” I move slowly down the aisle of the only grocery store in Sabine Woods, my eyes bouncing around the shelves for everything I’m going to need. “We do things. Just last weekend he took me to that new art show in Denver, and we stayed overnight at a really nice hotel. And last night we watched our show then sat up late playing cards and talking.”

“Oh good. You’re already settling into your eighties at the ripe old age of twenty-eight. What’s next, Sofie? Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune before you hit the sack at eight o’clock sharp? Maybe you can sit by the fireplace and knit while Lewis reads the newspaper with a magnifying glass. Oh, I know, then you can get up the next morning at four, eat your half a grapefruit and bran flakes in total silence before your man goes to the office forhoursand hours, then he’ll come home too tired for anything but a pureed dinner and absolutely no sex. Not even the boring kind.”

If I confirmed that we aren’t currently having sex, I’d never hear the end of it. And explaining to her why that is—which is partially on me, but mostly on Lewis—would have Harlow wigging out on me for more reasons than I’d care to entertain. All of which makes it even harder to have this argument with her because according to my best friend, Inever give her any supporting evidence to the contrary.

“Look, Harlow, just because my life isn’t anything like yours—“

“Fulfilling, fun, and loaded with mind-blowing sex with a man who actually loves me.”

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