Page 47 of Holley Jolly Biker

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

I closed the door and then led him bodily to Nuke’s office, who opened the door with a smile on his face.

Once I had the fucker in the chair, I tagged the papers Nuke handed to me, then I slapped them down atop the desk and said, “I’d rather break every bone in my body before I allow any harm to come to her. I know you can’t say the fuckin’ same. So, sign the fuckin’ papers, or else you’ll spend time with me in that cellar.”

Fucker didn’t argue.

Didn’t complain.

Nothing.

But he signed the papers.

That was when Merlin opened the door and handed me a folder with a smile on his face.

I took it from him, then handed it to the rat bastard.

He took it, his hands shaking, then he opened it, and his face paled.

I grinned evilly. “You ever try to come after them, you ever breath a word about this MC to anyone? And I mean fuckin’ anyone. All that shit gets sent to the feds. You were afraid of what might happen to you in that cellar. Oh, son, that ain’t nothin’ compared to what happens to rapists in prison.”

After he was escorted out with the folder in his hand, I placed a call to a father who wanted to get his hands on him after he hurt his daughter. That was his right.

Then I looked at Nuke and said, “Might wanna burn that chair.”

He lifted a brow and asked, “Come again?”

“Fucker pissed himself when he saw the shed,” I said with laughter in my tone.

Nuke froze for a split second, then said, “Fuck you. Take care of it. Fuckin’ bastard. I liked that chair.”

***

Not once did Ophelia or Soraya ask me about Peter.

Not once.

Not while we ate.

Not while Secret Santa presents were open.

And not when they curled up against me on the couch and fell asleep.

Their bellies full.

Hearts full of love.

And safety.

Right there in my arms.

“You want help moving them?” Nuke asked.

I shook my head, “Nah. But grab a couple of blankets so they don’t get cold, yeah?”

He jerked up his chin, and within a few minutes, he was returning with two blankets.

Once he covered them up, stepped away, then stopped, looked down at me and said, “Proud as fuck to know you, Saint.”