Page 30 of Cuckoo
“Cuckoo.” I turned to Hawk. “Are you asking for the club’s protection for your mate?”
“I am.”
More than a few began talking strategy while others grew agitated. They understood what this meant. The club was risking exposure and vulnerability with an unknown enemy.
“I know this is a big ask,” I began.
Talon shot to his feet. “No. It’s not. Katrina is your mate. She’s an ol’ lady now. We protect our own.”
Crow lost control of the room as men agreed with Talon, and the noise level rose. He whistled, piercing the air with a shrill blast as we all shut the fuck up. “That’s better.”
I smirked.
“We take this to vote. Needs a majority to pass.”
We knew how it went down.
“We protect Katrina, Cuckoo’s mate. Yes or no?”
The vote was unanimous.
My angel was now as protected as one of the club’s members. No matter what happened, she wouldn’t be alone.
I left four hours later, a bit inebriated and feeling good. Every one of my brothers had my back, and that was a fucking beautiful thing.
KATRINA WASN’T HOME.
I sat on my bike, my headlight facing her garage door, and checked my phone. “Fuck.”
Goose had texted that she had left over an hour earlier. He followed her across town, where she parked her car and entered a private residence. I met him at the end of the street, demanding answers.
“She’s safe. I only saw an older couple and guy inside.”
“What guy?”
“Don’t know.” He shrugged. “He was here when she arrived.”
“Stick around,” I grumbled. “I don’t want any more surprises.”
“I will.”
I didn’t hide my arrival. In fact, I made a show of revving the engine, rolling up the long driveway, and shutting my bike down. I’d been so busy today that I actually wasn’t wearing a costume. I showered after church and shaved, making myself pretty as fuck for my woman.
So, when I stood at the front door, wearing my desert camo tank, cut, jeans, and boots, I knew I looked fucking good. Hopefully, I’ll be intimidating, too, with all my ink. I needed this motherfucker in the house to recognize I would squash him like a fucking bug if he tried anything with my angel.
My fist pounded the door as I stood, unwilling to move until someone let me in. When the door swung open, I glared at the guy in a white polo and khakis, who shot me a disapproving look. “I’m here to see my woman.”
Yeah, I growled the words.
He smirked. “Who? Sabrina? She’s been happily married for three decades, or so I heard.”
This prick.I didn’t bother answering him; I just forced my way in, shoulder-checking him as I moved forward. He slammed into the wall and grunted.Pussy.
I heard voices and turned left, immediately settling my gaze on Katrina. She stood with a couple I assumed were her fosterparents who adopted her. They seemed nice. Clean. Polished. Proper.
Shit.
Katrina smiled as she saw me. “Rain. I’m so glad you could make it.”
