Chapter Six
Crown and Smoky had done too many hits together not to move like second nature.
In broad daylight, Crown’s Ducati roared down the block, Smoky’s right behind him, different color.
Both wore their leather Knights vests over black hoodies and dark jeans, the club patches proudly displayed on their backs.
They were on a mission, gloved hands ready.
Effortlessly, Crown rode through the city with a gun tucked at his side, prepared to make another example.
It never took him long to gather intel; he had his ear to the streets and learned that Rell’s son, Poe, had a habit.
Every day around the same time, he hung outside a smoke shop on the east side with a couple of friends, smoking, laughing, and bragging about shit he hadn’t earned honestly.
Well, the jig was up. Crown vowed that day would be the last time Poe stood in that spot.
By now, his conscience had faded on the matter.
Whether Poe knew it was the Knights he was stealing from or not, he had stolen.
And in Crown's eyes, those who fucked over blood shouldn’t get to live peacefully. That was law.
Crown spotted Poe half a block away, wearing a red hoodie and heavy chain, standing too comfortably for his liking…as if he hadn’t touched money that didn’t belong to him.
Crown and Smoky didn’t slow down as they drew their weapons from their vests. Everyone outside the smoke shop seemed to notice, except Poe. The small crowd scattered, diving behind cars and sprinting for cover.
At the sound of his crew's sudden movement, Poe finally glanced up from his phone.
However, it was too late. Crown lifted his gun, Smoky mirroring him perfectly.
As they flew by, gunfire erupted. Bullets tore through Poe back-to-back, lifting him off his feet before he collapsed hard onto the pavement, right beside the shattered storefront window.
By the time the screams filled the air from bystanders, Crown and Smoky had already turned the corner, not giving a fuck about the aftermath.
Most problems, Crown handled quietly and lowkey, but some shit he felt had to be loud for the world to see.
‘Cause when you got too quiet, niggas began underestimating you, thinking you were getting weak. He needed to remind them just in case…had to wake those who had fallen asleep. The message left was loud and clear: you didn’t fuck with the Knights and live to tell the tale.
An hour later, Crown returned to the clubhouse and got the shock of his life.
His wife was there waiting for him with lunch, seated at the bar.
She looked good as hell, too. Nivéa’s hair was swept up and pinned into a soft, voluminous bun.
A dramatic side bang curved across one eye, cascading into a flawless, face-framing curl that brushed her jawline.
She wore a burnt orange knot cropped long-sleeved top and a matching skirt, perfect for the fall season.
“Sup, beautiful? You didn’t tell me you were coming through.” He cleared his throat, tucking his helmet under his arm and hugging her with the other.
Shock was an understatement. Crown never expected to see Nivéa show up at the clubhouse on her own; he knew it made her uneasy. And that ring he had put on her finger hadn’t changed shit about it…or at least that’s what he assumed.
“I wanted to surprise you. My customer Julie loved the samples I emailed over that you drew. She wants us to partner together for some other projects she has in the works. I’m so happy, baby. I brought you lunch to show my appreciation.” Nivéa told him.
“Congratulations, ma. I’m glad she loves it.”
Pulling back from their hug, Crown took in the covered plates in her hands, then studied her face. She was happy, but he could see the disappointment behind her smile.
Shit, he thought, nodding for her to follow him to his office.
On the way to the back, everyone Nivéa hadn’t seen when she first arrived greeted her, and she responded warmly.
The Knights treated her like royalty… like the First Lady.
After all the hellos, she eyed the markings and picture frames on the walls.
There were thousands of them, it felt like.
She swallowed hard at the stories they all told.
It was funny how love could change your entire perspective, making you do things you promised you wouldn’t.
All Nivéa wanted was a safe place to land after dealing with Boe and all his chaos.
And while Crown provided her with the softest life a woman could have, his world—this clubhouse—was far from safe.
She felt the danger radiating off him as she followed closely, and even sensed the violence that echoed off the walls.
Little did she know, he was far worse than she thought.
He’d just dropped a nigga in broad daylight.
But she loved Crown… every inch of him. At this point, it didn’t matter what came along with him. He had earned her loyalty and devotion. This was her husband now.
“Appreciate you bringing me food, baby. What you got for me to eat?” Crown asked.
Nivéa couldn’t help but blush as he placed his helmet on the desk, then lifted her onto it, hiking up her skirt. He wasn’t slick; she’d peeped him lock the door and knew it was for a reason.
“Oxtails, rice, mac n’ cheese, greens, yams… mmm.” Nivéa's words were cut short as he kissed her neck.
“Sound good as hell, but I want dessert first. I been a good nigga. I deserve that.”
“Have you?”
With her legs wrapped around his waist, Nivéa stared up at him, studying his eyes. Her mama used to say, “the eyes are the window to the soul.”
“What you mean have I? Why would you ask me that? What’s wrong?” Crown asked, though he already had a feeling.
“Do not play with me. I just texted you, and you said you were here, going over some stuff with Smoky and Danger. But Smoky isn’t here. Neither were you and Danger.”
Crown tilted his head, staring into her eyes.
He understood the disappointment there, but he didn’t know what to say.
She was right; they had just texted before his hit on Poe, and he’d told her he was at the clubhouse.
He hadn’t lied. He was there at first, most of the day, until he had to go handle Poe.
And that… he didn’t want to share with her.
“I was here, then I had some business to handle real quick. Now I’m back, baby.
Smoky headed home to take his aunt to the doctor right after we finished.
D didn’t go with us. I wouldn’t let him go for this, so I don’t know where the fuck that nigga ran off to.
He was still here when I left, though.” Crown assured her, and he was telling the truth, but he could tell how that sounded.
“You would never lie and mess around on me, right, baby?” Nivéa questioned, her heart racing.
Crown locked eyes with her, so she knew his words were real.
“Never. I worship the ground you walk on. This ain’t that. I ain’t him. I’d never cheat on you. Only thang I’m playin’ wit’ is this pearl.”
She snickered, her nerves slowly calming as he rubbed on her clit. “Mm, okay.”
“You believe me?”
“Every word.”
Nivéa swallowed hard, lifting her hands to his vest and squeezing. She was insecure, but was trying not to let her past dictate her present and future. Still, she couldn’t help feeling anxious when Crown said one thing and she discovered another.
Crown gripped the back of her hair, whispering against her forehead,
“You the only woman for me. The only one I need. The only one I see. That’s why I married you.”
“I believe you.”
Nivéa clung to him, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within her.
Was it her past haunting her, or the weight of her pregnancy?
Either way, she was undeniably in her feelings.
She pulled Crown’s bottom lip into her mouth, suckling gently as his fingers slid her g-string to the side, then entered her.
Sparks flew between them. It amazed her how, despite living together and having just seen him that morning, she felt an overwhelming longing for him.
“What I told you about wearing these when I’m not around?” He mumbled.
“Honestly, it slipped my mind, baby. I was running late this morning and had to rush, remember?”
“Nah, I don’t recall that, but I definitely remember what the fuck I told you.” Crown faked a scowl as he added another finger inside her; he could never truly be mad at her.
Nivéa gasped, arching her back as she began to move her hips in rhythm with his.
Crown leaned in, whispering sweet things in her ear…
how much he loved her pretty ass, adored her, and how sorry he was for any misunderstandings.
He had a gift for calming her mind while igniting her body.
As he found her g-spot, he pressed just right, driving her crazy.
Then, without missing a beat, Crown dropped to his knees, sliding her thong off and zeroing in on her clit. He was determined to make shit up to her, no matter what. If his words couldn’t do the trick, his tongue would. And he could bet everything on that.
With a hunger that spoke volumes, Crown devoured Nivéa’s pussy, licking and sucking until her legs trembled and she came hard. His skills were out of this world; the kind of man who ate for his own pleasure. He ate the hidden attitude and disappointment right out of her on that desk.
“Since the shit slipped your mind, I’ma slip inside you and remind you of what the fuck happens when you don’t listen.”
Crown pulled his pistol from his waist, aiming to set it on the desk.
But Nivéa caught his hand, lifting it to her mouth.
She planted soft kisses along his tattooed fingers, teasingly trailing down to the gun.
With deliberate slowness, she slid the tip into her mouth, sucking on it as if it were his dick, enticing him.