Page 16 of Blackbeard
“She’s not staying here.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Dad replied. “She’s your wife. She’ll live under your roof with you, of course.”
“Shit,” Blackbeard hissed under his breath. He darted a glance at me.
Ever since we filed out of Church, Blackbeard hadn’t taken a seat. He remained on his feet, restlessly moving around behind the bar to pour drinks, or hovering near the television with a few other bikers, zoned out to a football game.
I made myself comfortable at the bar, nursing a glass of whiskey. The stool to my right was empty, but Blackbeard didn’t take it.
Cajun and Torch returned, dropping a duffle bag and two suitcases inside the door. Just the basics I’d need for the first few months of marriage. I’d had it packed and ready to go for this moment.
By the end of the year, I planned to be free of my husband, and the Blackjacks would be nothing more than a bad memory.
“What’s wrong, honey?” I teased lightly. “Don’t tell me that you want to back out of our agreement already. I promise, I’ll be quiet as a mouse. You won’t even notice I’m there.”
Blackbeard wrenched his gaze away from the bags and settled on me. I raised my glass in a silent toast, challenging him to argue. Or to find a loophole that didn’t seem like he would be shirking our marriage.
He blew out a heavy breath.
“Fine.”
Blackbeard tossed back the last of his whiskey, swallowing the amber liquid in one gulp. He set his glass on a nearby table and gestured at the door.
“I’m sure I have a spare mattress in the garage you can use,” he said.
I clucked my tongue with disapproval and turned to look at Dad. He shook his head.
“Remember the terms of our agreement, brother. If you don’t treat my daughter right and provide for her properly, the contract will be terminated.”
Blackbeard clenched his jaw.
“Is this how it’s going to be? Every time I say something you don’t like, you run off to Daddy and he bullies me into doing your bidding?”
I shrugged and smirked as I sipped my whiskey, watching him over the rim of my glass.
“Sounds about right."
He pressed his lips into a thin line of annoyance.
“That’s the perk of having a father-in-law, brother,” Dad quipped.
“Don’t call me that. You’re a Forsaken and I’m a Blackjack. We’re not brothers.”
“We share the same territory now,” Dad protested, spreading his arms wide.
“Still doesn’t make us brothers.”
Dad paused with a knowing smile, his eyes glittering with malice. I knew that look. He was about to hit where it hurt.
“Would you prefer I call yousoninstead? Since you are my son-in-law.”
Bingo.
Blackbeard’s nostrils flared and he marched past me to the door. Yanking it open, he hoisted my luggage into his arms and stormed out.
I drained the last of my whiskey and set my glass on the bar.
“Looks like my husband is ready to go,” I said, patting Dad’s hand. “I’ll see you later.”
