Kings of Anarchy (Brutal Boys of Everlake Prep #3) - Caroline Peckham Page 0,149

Kyan, I know he helped us out with the wedding and all, but he also turned up at Christmas dinner with two severed heads in a Santa sack..."

"You people come from fucked up families," I muttered, shaking my head as I tried to figure out if the guy being a psychopath was a good or a bad thing from the point of view of this plan.

"Just them, not me," Blake protested, pointing between Saint and Kyan and I nodded vaguely to placate him.

"If you think we can trust him then I say reach out," Saint decided for all of us and I had to say that just pissed me off more, but I didn't argue. "I have dirt on him anyway so if he becomes a problem, I can easily neutralise him."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked and Saint smirked like a smug bastard.

"I’ve spent years gathering intelligence on every notable member of the O'Brien family and I have more than enough evidence filed away on each of them to send them to prison indefinitely if I so choose. One email to my contact in the FBI would remove them from our lives if needs be. But it wouldn't entirely remove the threat of retribution as their empire is so large, which is why I haven't pulled the trigger on the whole lot of them to free Kyan from his Grandfather's bonds."

"Who the fuck are you?" I muttered and not for the first time since I'd set myself on this mission to destroy Saint's family, I had to wonder if I wasn't way in over my head. What kind of high school kid just casually mentioned the fact that he owned all the information necessary to take down an entire criminal organisation as well as having FBI contacts?

"He's Saint Memphis," Blake said with a cocky grin like he'd just revealed that he was Batman and Saint just kept smirking. Asshole.

"Done," Kyan agreed, making his decision while I was distracted by the megalomaniac in the room. "I'll get Niall in on it and we'll go to the fucking club. Whatever it takes to bring them down and get justice for my girl."

"Our girl," Blake corrected.

"Sorry," Kyan said, not sounding sorry at all as he dragged Tatum closer to him and pressed a heated kiss to her lips. "I meant to say my wife."

"I'm already sick of that shit and it’s only been twenty-four hours," Blake snapped and I wholeheartedly agreed with him on that even if I had to bite my tongue on saying it.

"Yeah," Kyan said as he pushed himself up to his feet, keeping his grip on Tatum's ass as he lifted her and she was forced to wrap her arms and legs around him so that she didn't fall. A laugh fell from her lips but she didn’t try to escape him. "Well it sucks to suck but the truth is the truth. See that ring on her finger?"

"As if anyone in their right mind could miss that monstrosity," Saint hissed.

Kyan laughed loudly as he started to walk away from us in the direction of his room with Tatum still in his arms. She was protesting but it was a pretty weak attempt on her part if she really wanted him to let her go.

"I'm glad you like it. Now I need to go consummate my marriage some more, so I'll see you assholes in the morning,” Kyan called over her laughter.

"It's not your fucking night with her!" Blake shouted as he got to his feet and tried to follow them, but Kyan's door slammed in his face before he could stop him.

My skin prickled as the sound of Tatum arguing carried through the door followed by more of Kyan's laughter and then a shriek of laughter from her too. She certainly wasn't protesting all that hard to him claiming ownership over her. In fact, it seemed like she was quite happy with the turn of events.

"What the fuck are we going to do about this?" Blake demanded as he strode back into the room and Saint turned up the music so the three of us wouldn't have to sit here listening when the two of them inevitably started fucking again.

I stayed quiet because I was so consumed with jealousy and anger that I knew if I spoke there wouldn't be any hiding it and I needed to calm the fuck down before I gave myself away.

"We give them this week," Saint said thoughtfully, his own face