Chapter 7 #3
“The hierarchy?” he laughed. “He believes he is God, so there’s no real hierarchy to speak of.
But if you want the rundown on who is who, let me tell you.
Blunt, the VP, is an asshole who treats women like minions to be used for his own gain.
He’s someone you can’t have alive if you want to take down the Sons.
He will rule just as my father does. The Sergeant at Arms is my brother Riagan, he’d be next.
Then you have my other brothers, Ardal and Bran.
They are loyal to a fault. They will never allow any harm to come to him.
After that, there is Mac, Weasel and Pep.
They’re your first wall to get through, then my brothers, then Blunt.
But the whole club is evil, everyone will bear arms. You’d be better off to bomb the entire facility.
My suggestion? Make them think you have lost a major shipment, let them think they’ve won over you which could mean a loss to weapons or drugs for you, and they’ll celebrate. Everyone will be at the clubhouse.”
“Women and children?” Bear asked.
“Never at the celebrations,” Keefe said. “They’re never at the clubhouse, they’re to be there to raise the future generation, but never be seen.”
I hated this fucking club now more than ever.
“Do you think you boys can raid your warehouses and find what we need?” Ace asked Lorcan and Eamon.
They looked at each other and nodded after a beat.
“We need the men,” Eamon said.
“Men, we have.”
“They can’t be from here,” Lorcan said. “He’ll see the Kilkenny patch from a mile away.”
“Our Nomads will be able to head that way,” Bear said. “They are always floating around and going for long rides. It won’t be out of the ordinary. Wolf can lead the attack.”
Shit. This plan was sounding better and better the more we played with it. We’d get rid of the rival MC, and the threat to Shona would be over. The threat to our trade would be over.
I couldn’t remember a time when the Ghost Rebels weren’t at war with someone. Now, we’d have all the time in the world to conduct business and I’d see Shona every goddamn day.
Now that was something to go to one last war for.
“Tonight, we drink, we strategise. Tomorrow, we take down the fucking Sons.”
Shona
The vodka was sitting in my stomach like poison right now. I needed food and I needed it quickly, before I ended up hugging the toilet bowl all night. I came through the back of the clubhouse and saw everyone drinking and partying. How long had we been down there?
Kayleigh was passed out on one of the cots the Nomads used in the lodge. There was no way I could move her on my own. I passed by some of the club members and smiled politely as I made my way to…shit did I go to mine or Savage’s?
“Whoa,” I heard a familiar voice say in front of me. I looked up to see my brother Keefe standing there, smirking down at me. “Someone have a little too much potato juice?”
“Do not call it that!” I said, feeling the bile rise up in my throat. “Why are you here?”
“Darby’s safe,” he said, his tone turning more serious. “She’s being babysat by Rebel right now.”
“Poor Rebel,” I remarked. Keefe laughed, knowing just how precocious our little sister could be. “Where’s Savage?”
“He’s probably around here somewhere,” Keefe said, looking around. “Do you need help?”
“I just need food,” I said, feeling myself get a little dizzy. When was the last time I ate something substantial?
“Right…” Keefe replied. “Where’s the kitchen?”
“I got her,” I heard Savage’s amused tone from behind me. His arms wrapped around my waist, and he pulled me up against his body. “Kitchen?”’
I nodded, and he all but carried me down the hall to the kitchen. Once inside, he set me down at the table in the middle of the room.
“What do you want to eat?” he asked.
“You’re going to cook?” I queried.
He turned around, amusement on his face. “You think I can’t cook?”
“Well…I’ve never seen you do it, so…no.”
His chuckle was warm and affectionate as he set out potatoes, milk, broth and butter.
“What on earth are you making, Gordon Ramsay?”
His laugh was loud as he put the water on the stovetop to boil before cutting up potatoes. “I remember my ma used to make this for me when I was nauseous. Potatoes help to aid in not allowing you to throw up.”
“How do you know that?”
“My ma…I don’t remember much, but I do remember this.”
“I like hearing about you as a child.”
His smile was genuine when he looked up at me. He pushed the chopped potatoes into the boiling water and came over to me, leaning against the table. “I’ll tell you more about it after we win this war.”
I straightened. “What war?”
“We’re taking the Destructive Sons out, Shona. That’s why Keefe is here.”
My immediate thought was it’s too scary, too dangerous. I didn’t want him to get hurt, but I really didn’t want my father to run a MC that could wipe out the Ghost Rebels.
“Good.”
“You can be upset about it, Shona. He is your father.”
“That man was never a father,” I told him honestly. Savage moved over to the pot and continued to test the potatoes. He threw the broth into the pan and continued to boil the potatoes down.
“Are you making me soup?”
“No,” he laughed. “Just wait and see.”
I watched as he cooked me my meal, relishing the fact this was my man. No matter how much I pushed him away, he stayed.
He trusted me.
He wanted me.
Savage went about mashing the potato, adding a dash of milk and butter to the pan before he pushed it out into a bowl and put it in front of me.
“Go on,” he said, holding out a spoon for me. “Gordon Ramsay insists.”
Smirking, I did as he requested and immediately moaned at the flavour burst in my mouth.
“Jesus, Shona, you moan like that and you’ll be getting filled with something other than potato in a minute.”
I choked on my food as I looked over at him, his fingers holding a little too tight on the bench as he watched me enjoy the meal he cooked for me.
“This is amazing,” I said with a mouth full of mashed potato. The broth made it feel heartier, and soothed my aching stomach. Within minutes I felt the haze from the vodka lift, and I devoured the rest of the meal. “You can do all the cooking from now on.”
He laughed, the edge from moments before gone.
“I don’t know about that, baby, but I wouldn’t mind doing all of the eating from now on.”
I knew he wasn’t talking about food by the way his eyes travelled over me, and the way he bit his lower lip.
“You want to eat me even when I’m drunk like this?
” I laughed, pushing the empty bowl toward him.
He put it in the sink and moved back over to where I was now standing.
The proximity had me gasping for air as he grabbed my thighs and hauled me up onto the table.
I held onto his shoulders to stabilise myself, and chuckled when he planted my ass down on the tabletop.
Stepping between my legs, he ran his hands up under my top.
His tough skin along my smooth flesh had my arms becoming pebbled with gooseflesh.
“I’ll want my last breath to be in your pussy,” he whispered, his lips running along my jaw, nipping at my skin slightly.
I was lost to the sensations this man was causing me, so lost that I didn’t notice him pushing me onto my back and kicking the stool underneath him.
He took a seat, pulling my panties to the side to lick up my slit.
I moaned immediately, my back arching off the table and my hands holding onto the sides. “This brings back memories.”
His cheeky grin undid me as he pushed a finger into me at the same time that his tongue attacked my clit.
Every sensation overwhelmed my drunken mind, and I gasped for air.
The torrent of pleasure running through me as he held my thighs wide open and feasted on me like a man starved had my body pulsing with need, with pleasure, with everything all at once.
Savage slid another finger into me, and I felt my pussy clamp down around him as the release pushed me over the edge.
I bit down on my hand to stop myself from crying out until my release eased.
Savage slid his fingers out and pulled my panties back down into place.
“Come on,” he said, his voice tinged with urgency as he helped me down from the table.
“Where are we going?”
“Our room,” he said, taking my hand and leading me out of the kitchen. “I need to hear you screaming my name.”
I should have been shocked but when I heard him call it our room, I felt my panties simply melt away before he locked me in and pounced on me like a cheetah.