Bred By the MC Prez by Sam Crescent Page 0,26

“You won’t even look at her. You don’t get to fucking speak to my woman.” He walked back toward her. “Come on.”

This was all too much for her to handle right now. Beth didn’t know how she was able to keep on walking but she did. She walked all the way up to Forge’s bedroom. He pulled her into his arms.

“I’m going to get a doctor, okay? I want you to stay here.”

She nodded. There was no need for words. She pressed her lips together and he reached out, putting a finger beneath her chin.

“Don’t be scared. I promise you, I won’t let anything happen to you again.”

“You can’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“Believe me, Beth, I will keep this one.”

She didn’t want to anger him.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she put her hands on her knees. They were dirty. All of her was dirty.

“Did they touch you?” Forge asked.

“No, not like that. They wouldn’t touch a person like me. I’m too fat.” She stared at the door, waiting. She hadn’t felt this way since she’d before she’d been with Forge.

No matter what, her father had always been right, and she was always going to leave Forge wanting.

****

It didn’t take a genius to know Blade and Romy had fucked with Beth’s mind. The doctor had given her the all-clear. Checked her nose, which wasn’t broken, and there weren’t any other signs of problems.

Nothing.

Beth had stayed in her room. She didn’t eat. She didn’t talk. She didn’t even read, or lay on the bed, daydreaming.

He often found her near the window, looking out, doing absolutely nothing. When he got to bed, she’d be curled so far against the edge, he knew it was uncomfortable. He always waited for her to fall asleep before pulling her into his arms.

He’d saved her three days ago. The clubhouse was still on lockdown. Any of the boys with family had brought them to keep them safe. It was a stupid plan, to let Blade live, but he needed to get him away from Beth. When the time was right, he’d kill Blade and mount his head on the fucking wall for safekeeping. Until then, he had to keep his shit together and his club safe. The only way to do that was to have them all in one place.

He watched as Dog brought down yet another full plate of food. She’d drank the juice and some water, but ate no food.

“Did she say anything to you?” he asked.

“Nothing. She stood still at the window. You sure they didn’t rape her?”

“Yes, she would have told me. Romy even said they didn’t touch her.” Forge ran a hand down his face, trying to clear the fog from his mind. This was all fucking shit. Bigger than shit.

“She’s hurting, Forge.”

“I can see that.”

“We’ve got Romy chained up, and the boys are watching the perimeter. You’re not needed here, but any more of this, she’s going to die. Starving herself is not the answer. Go and talk to her,” Dog said.

“Since when have you been the voice of fucking reason?”

“Look, I don’t get why she has this hold on you, I don’t. I don’t think any pussy is worth risking the club, but she’s under your skin, whether you like it or not.” Dog shrugged. “If something happens to her, I know you won’t be able to stand it. Now rather than us fight and shoot the shit, go and talk to her. Find out what’s wrong because I know the boys and girls are worried. Most of them liked her, and she certainly put you in a better mood.”

Dog walked back into the kitchen.

He was right, Forge wasn’t needed here.

Romy was a piece of work. She was a conniving little bitch, and he should never have allowed her into his club. Her two kids were taken from her by CAS a decade ago when she tried to sell them for drugs. She’d kept that to herself, but he knew all about her fucked-up past. He’d barely touched Romy and she’d told him everything about Blade and fighting for turf, wanting more land. He couldn’t trust her, and apparently, neither could Blade.

Forge didn’t give nothing to no one. He took, plain and simple. The fact Beth’s dad was still alive was a fucking miracle, but it wasn’t going to last much longer. He already intended to take care of him so he never caused Beth or him any more trouble.

Walking toward the back of the club, he