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Ugly Beast doesn’t want an arranged marriage, but what his president says, he gets. Abriana Vigo is not beautiful. In fact, she’s bland and terrified, but she’s a virgin and a Capo’s daughter. Now she’s been thrown to the wolves at his president’s demands.
Abriana will do anything to get away from her father, just to avoid being hurt anymore. She only hopes this scarred man doesn’t turn his back on her. If he does, she knows her father will find some way to kill her.
But despite all her newfound freedom in the MC life, if Abriana doesn’t prove her loyalty to the club, her husband will kill her. When her father orders her to spy on the club and report back, she knows she cannot do it. She has to make a choice.
For Ugly Beast, he never thought he would commit to anyone or anything, but after finding out his wife is taken, he’s willing to put the club at risk for her.
Abriana isn’t the woman he wanted, but now, he can’t let her go, and anyone who tries to take her, will know what it’s like to deal with him.
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“You’re not supposed to be here,” Nico Garofalo said.
Ugly Beast tensed up at the insult. Here they stood in the fucking mansion of the Italian mafia, after standing by their side in a war that was created by the Mafiosi over a slight of one guy wanting a girl. Personally, he never saw a good reason to allow pussy to get in the way of business. Women were good for one thing and one thing only: fucking. It’s why he never got involved with problem pussy.
He didn’t understand the guys from all over the club, chapter to chapter, why the fuck they’d want to settle down with an old lady. Now, he didn’t mind a couple of the women that cooked. They were all right and didn’t make waves. They knew the lifestyle, and even if they hated it, kept their mouths shut. It was better that way.
Hell’s Bastards MC didn’t like a whole lot of things. First, they didn’t like any motherfucker who believed they could use them and discard them like trash the way this piece of shit was doing right now.
Nico had some dealings with the Americans, and rather than risk his own ranks, he’d reached out to them, the MC. Now, Smokey, the club president, was more than happy to help for a price.
They’d lived rather happily side by side. Nico’s men didn’t interfere with club business, and they stayed out of anything owned by the boss. Anything touched by Garofalo, they ignored. The city was big enough for all of them, and he didn’t see a reason to poach on their land.
Besides, most of the associates Garofalo and his mafia mob did business with, wouldn’t give their club the time of day anyway.
It always made Ugly Beast laugh that the wealthy were happy to rub hands with men that had a lot more blood on them than the MC, also a lot stricter rules as well. They were a little backward in their thinking as far as he was concerned.
“So, tonight’s celebrations do not include the very men who put you back on top?” Smokey asked.
Ugly Beast kept watch on the men in the room. He was aware of the soldiers who held their guns. No wonder they were having so many problems. They all looked like they couldn’t piss in a freezing cold wind, let alone fight them.
He wasn’t worried, but he had already assessed the dangers.
Returning his attention back to Garofalo, he made sure to make eye contact with his Capos as well. There were five here that he counted. He had heard their American friends had taken out three of them before the Hell’s Bastards took over.
“Tonight is a feast. A reuniting if you will.”
“It’s a damn soiree where you all pat each other on the fucking back for a job well done.” Smokey sat down on the edge of the desk, showing to the men in the room he wasn’t afraid of their boss. Their king.
To be honest, Nico Garofalo put fear into most men and women. The only difference was, the MC had seen far worse in their life than this man, and that was saying a lot.
Smokey whistled. “Check out that piece of ass.” He lifted a picture from the desk before tossing it out to his men. Hunter caught it first before handing it over to him. Ugly Beast glanced at the woman, passing it around, seeing the tic in Garofalo’s face. He didn’t like the disrespect. He’d already noticed the signal he’d given his men to stand down.
In both of his hands, Ugly Beast had the knives, waiting and ready to strike out. He didn’t do politics. That was Smokey’s job.
For him, all he did was make sure they got out alive. The scars on his back and face were a testament to that.
He’d gladly look death in the face and laugh. Until then, he was going to make sure each and every single person stayed out of the club’s way. Simple as. It’s why he was the Sergeant at Arms.
“She your wife? Your mistress? I bet a horny fucker like you would have a whole stash of sluts stashed around the country, huh? I bet he does.”
“It’ll be easy to find out,” Rock said.
“Hell, yeah, give them all a real good initiation with the club. We love ourselves some pussy, and we don’t have a preference, ugly, fat, nice, evil. We’ll take them all.”
“Please, leave us,” Nico said, finally speaking up, and looking at his men. Ugly Beast would bet money Nico had never begged or even asked someone to leave nicely. Most of the time, he guessed men and women who were not welcome left here in body bags. For the Hell’s Bastards, Nico had no control. He wasn’t the one in charge here; Smokey was.