Page 50 of Blackbeard
Instead, she looked…lost.
God, this was so fucking complicated.
Signing that contract with the Forsaken was supposed to bring peace. Things should have settled down. But now, the Blackjacks were straining at the seams, threatening to fly apart.
To put it mildly, my club didn’t trust the woman I was married to. They resented her, and maybe even downright hated her because of her connection to the Forsaken.
Crash felt abandoned. Desperate to be heard, he had acted out against Leigh. Under normal circumstances, he was lucky to be alive. Attempting to kill your brother’s wife was an unforgivable offense.
Was it a mistake to marry her? Should we void the contract and endure the war that would ensue, knowing it might decimate us completely? Was it better to fight against the Forsaken instead of fighting amongst ourselves?
I didn’t have an answer either way.
Leigh was my wife. My signature was on that contract next to hers.
And I was the Vice President—second in command, a leader who was supposed to have his shit together in order to keep the club running smoothly.
But at this rate, it felt like I was watching the Blackjacks fall apart in slow motion. Piece by piece.
Chapter twelve
Leigh
I swayed on my feet as the clock ticked closer to midnight, but I didn’t dare breathe a word. Blackbeard had made it clear we were only supposed to be at the clubhouse for a few hours, even though that timeframe had flown by ages ago.
Exhaustion blurred the edges of my vision, and I gripped the edge of the bar counter to stay upright. After working so hard to convince the Blackjacks that I could be their bartender, I didn’t want to call it a night just because I was a little tired.
At last, Blackbeard waded through the crowded room and stepped behind the bar. He leaned close, resting his palm on my lower back.
“It’s late.” He practically had to shout to be heard over the jukebox and the buzz of conversation that filled the room. “Time to head home, princess.”
I was too relieved to protest, letting him guide me out of the clubhouse and into the cool night air.
“You did good,” Blackbeard said, passing my helmet to me.
I managed a fatigued smile at the crumb of praise.
“It’s kind of you to say that. Your club still hates me though. I doubt I’ll be hired for the job.”
He hummed as he tugged his own helmet on and clipped the straps together.
“Just give them time to get used to you. It’s been…what? A month since we signed that marriage agreement? The Forsaken did a lot of damage—years of it. That won’t disappear overnight.”
If only you knew how much more damage is coming your way,I thought.
As soon as Blackbeard pulled onto the road, the rumble of his motorcycle coupled with the blur of the landscape passing by quickly lulled me into a doze. My head bobbed forward, resting against the back of Blackbeard’s neck. When my arms began to droop from around his waist, he grabbed my hands, holding me in place.
By the time Blackbeard turned into the driveway, I was on the verge of descending into dreamland. When he shut off the engine, I lifted my head, bleary and fighting the fuzziness of impending sleep that clouded my senses. Stars glittered overhead, and a silvery crescent moon hung low over the shadowy mountains in the distance.
“Come on, let’s go,” he said. “Get inside before you’re snoring on my driveway.”
“I don’t snore,” I mumbled in protest.
Blackbeard hooked an arm around my waist, leading me up the sidewalk to the front door. I yawned wide enough to make my jaw crack and tucked my face into the curve of his neck.
Fuck, it was criminal that he smelled so damn good after hanging out in a biker bar for the past few hours. He should have reeked of cigar smoke, stale beer, and sweat. I kissed the juncture of his jawline, nuzzling at his ear.
“Behave yourself, princess,” Blackbeard warned, sternly. “There will be no sex tonight. You can barely stay awake.”
