“The photographer better have been a woman,” Saint growls, his gaze skimming across all four photographs.
I roll my eyes. He’s utterly predictable, but it’s reassuring in a way. “I didn’t want you up on a murder charge, so, yes, it was a woman.”
“These are beautiful, Lo.” Theo pulls me under his arm, pressing a kiss to my temple.
“They’re perfect,” Saint agrees. “You look like a fucking queen.”
Warmth blooms on my cheeks. “Well, I couldn’t look at those Godawful tacky posters with their airbrushed bodies and plastic tits any longer.”
“Massive improvement,” Caz says, pecking my lips. “Thanks, queenie. I love mine.” His eyes glint mischievously. “Now I have something to jerk off to when you’re not around.”
“That’s an added bonus,” I agree, smirking. “Just try not to get cum on the glass.”
“We’ll have to cover them if Granddad is dropping by,” Saint says. “Unless you’re happy for me to slice his head off his shoulders.”
I’m tempted to argue, just to push his buttons, but I think better of it. These photos remind me of the best day of my life, and they are for my guys’ eyes only.
It doesn’t matter that Diesel has seen me naked.
These are not for his viewing.
“I’ll get something we can throw over them for when he visits,” I agree.
We shower and get changed, preparing to leave for the meeting at Sainthood HQ. The guys are wearing their leather cuts over black shirts and black jeans. I dress in black skinny jeans and my scuffed boots with a tight black and red T-shirt on top. I zip up my black hoodie and tie my hair into a high ponytail. We all tuck our guns in our jeans, and I strap my knife to the outside of my thigh.
“Don’t forget this,” Theo says, approaching me with the necklace Diesel gave me. He fastens it around my neck.
“Thanks. You still have the recording of my initiation meeting safe and close at hand, right?”
He nods. “I’ve backed it up to a couple places, and I have a password-protected file on my phone. When we need it, I can pull it up in seconds.”
“Good.” I exhale heavily. Sinner will lose his mind when he realizes we have incriminating evidence on him and the board. Especially when the commissioner gets “taken down.” That recording proves they set it for me as a task and that the motive behind his assassination came from them. We’re holding this in reserve to pull out when we need it.
“Okay.” Saint stands in front of us, folding his arms. “These meetings are usually a shitshow,” he explains. “An opportunity for Sinner to lord his power over us. I’m not going to tell you what to do, only stay sharp and be smart. Let’s not antagonize him in front of other junior chapter members because he won’t take kindly to that.”
“We need to pick our battles.” I tug the zipper of my hoodie up under my chin. “I got it.”
Theo distributes our wedding bands, and we put them on, agreeing to keep our hands under the table during the meeting so we don’t tip him off early.
I let Galen take shotgun, and I jump in the back, sitting in between Theo and Caz. Galen blasts rock music, and we don’t talk as Saint drives us to Prestwick for the meeting.
He pulls into the parking lot, gliding into a vacant parking space, alongside a truck and a couple of motorcycles.
“Watch your backs,” Saint warns as we get out. He rounds the hood, taking my hand, and we walk into the devil’s lair.
CHAPTER 22
THE LOWER LEVEL of the building is a lot like The Bulls warehouse we torched. A narrow hallway opens out into a large space. Stools are lined up under the counter of a bar that resides on one side with a myriad of couches, tables, and chairs on the other.
Several men in leather cuts are dispersed across the room, many with scantily clad young girls sprawled across their lap.
Club paraphernalia lines the walls alongside the entrance to the small kitchen. Facing the bar are two pool tables, and a bunch of older members lifts their heads from their game, nodding at Saint and the guys. A couple eye me with blatant interest, and Saint gnashes his teeth at them.
“This one’s possessive,” a guy with a shock of thick red hair says. “But not for long, according to my intel.” He licks his lips, letting his gaze freely roam my body.
Saint tilts his head to the side, and Caz grabs the man, shoving him into the wall before thrusting his fist in his face. The guy slumps to the ground, out cold, and an icy chill infiltrates the room. Eyeballs are glued to my back, and nervous adrenaline prickles underneath the surface of my skin.
The guy’s friends simmer and seethe, but they say nothing.
The dynamics within The Sainthood are fascinating to me. That the guys get away with this, purely because Saint and Galen are in positions of leadership within the junior chapter, and they are related to the current president, is unbelievable.
“The bedrooms are back there,” Saint explains, pulling me away from the pool tables and pointing to the corridor on the left. “And these are the stairs to the upper levels that house the office and meeting rooms.”
We trek up the stairs after a couple of younger members, and Saint leads me along the hallway, past a few closed wooden doors, and through the double doors at the very end. I press on the necklace to automate the recording software as we walk across the worn hardwood floor.
All conversation mutes, and every person in the room looks at us. About fifteen guys are sitting around the rectangular wooden table in the center of the room, and they nod their heads in acknowledgment.
“Gentlemen.” Saint steers me to the end of the table, pulling out the chair on the left side for me. “This is Harlow Westbrook.”
I jerk my head up, offering a tight smile as I glance at the guys around the table. “Sup.”
A chorus of greetings whips around the table from all but a couple of guys, who sit near the end, eyeing me warily. And I get it. Most probably don’t want women in the organization; however, they’ve no choice but to suck it up, because it’s the president’s order.
A few more bodies filter into the room as Saint sits down beside me, at the end of the table, and Galen takes the seat across from me. Theo slides in next to me with Caz claiming the seat beside Galen.
Footsteps thud across the room, claiming my attention, and I smile as Bry walks toward us.
“Hey.” He nods at the guys. “Lo.”
“Bry.”
He sits in the empty chair beside Theo, surreptitiously handing him a folded note. Theo passes it to me, and I slip it into Saint’s waiting palm. Saint dips his head, reading the details of The Arrows next shipment. He jerks his head at Bry, in a barely there acknowledgment, and I kick him in the shin. Saint narrows his eyes at me, and I pin him with a look that tells him not to fuck around. Bry has come through for us, and this hostile shit ends now. He needs to start treating him with more respect.
“Thanks, man,” Saint says, and he almost sounds sincere.
I’m about to kick him again when the doors burst open, heralding Satan’s arrival.
“Welcome, my little cherubs,” Sinner says, stalking into the room with the bald creep I hate. He’s rubbing at his shoulder, and it gives me immense pleasure to know I inflicted pain. Sinner occupies the seat at the head of the table, and the creep sits on his right-hand side. “I see we have our new female initiate with us today,” Sinner adds, smiling like the cat that got the cream when his eyes land on me.