Biker-in-law's Death Kiss のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 221 - チャプター 230

It was a relief to be taking Dean to a home outside the US. It was best to be thorough if I chose to do something this wicked. My life would definitely turn on its head if one of those asylums back home decided to release Dean one random morning for ‘good behavior.’We arrived at the stone-built facility in Hungary that resembled a remodeled castle, quiet and calm with luscious lawns and high walls that assured me not even an army could break Dean out of this place.I saw Dean for the first time in over a month. One of Colt's guards pushed him out of a van in a wheelchair, and his eyes found me immediately.I squeezed my purse, images of our happy engagement days rolling through my mind like a carousel. Days when I thought he was the sweetest man alive, and that I was lucky to be his bride.“Are you OK?” Colt said beside me, and I nodded quickly, slipping my hand into his.“Dean looks different.”“Amnesia,” Colt responded. “He does not recognize anyone.”The guard stopped the wheelch

“Get me a bike.” I whispered to Chris as I guided Olivia towards the private jet. He nodded, and branched away to speak with his colleagues.He was the new head of security after Henry left. Although he was just as efficient, I had come to accept that the dogs were the best security I could have. But for propriety, I had to maintain a more conventional team of bodyguards in public places like these.“Did he ask about your boner?” Olivia leaned in to whisper, and I looked down at her, thinking how I would very much love to eat her. “No, baby.” I responded, and she pouted, dissatisfied that I wasn’t swallowing her bait. At the security screening, the man with the metal detector smiled at us as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.I grimaced, the gesture reminding me too much of Dean. My eyes did a quick sweep of my surroundings again, my neck prickling with awareness at how exposed we were. Hungary was supposed to be safe, but there was a slight chance someone could jump

Splash! I turned just in time to catch Olivia’s sculpted body hitting the water in perfect form.Straightening up to watch her from my seat, I absentmindedly nodded to the housekeeper as she set the table on the terrace overlooking the heated pool.“Would you like the meal served, sir?” The housekeeper asked. Her service came included with our rental.“Hmm.” I responded before realizing that wasn’t a response. But I didn’t want to look away from the pool, Olivia was still under, and the water looked mostly undisturbed above.Reluctantly, I pulled my eyes away from her, shutting my computer and deciding to respond to Axel’s question, if this was Olivia and I’s honeymoon, later.“You can. Make sure to maintain the temperature though. “ I stood up and walked away barefoot, my eyes pinned on the pool as the housekeeper echoed, “Yes, Mr Fletcher,” behind me.I shrugged my bathrobe off as Olivia finally came up. And with her back still turned to me, she floated towards the edge of the poo

“I’m not some out of control whore, Colt.” She said as the first tear slid down her cheek, and I grabbed her, cupping her face a little too tightly.“Listen to me.” My voice came out tight from the effort it took to hold back my emotions as I pushed her head back to stare into her eyes. “Even you don’t get to call yourself that.”“Why?” She asked, as incensed as that day she raged at me by the roadside wearing just her house clothes and admitted for the first time that she couldn’t resist me. “Why can I not say it when that's what you and everyone else thinks!”“Fuck what they think.” I spat hotly. “And no, I wasn’t thinking that, never do, and never will.”“Then what were you saying?” She breathed heavily. “Now that Dean is no longer here, you might just realize that you can do better than the biker who is always shirtless.”“Then wear a goddamn shirt.” She spat, all businesswoman again, “There’s no need to ruin what we have with your insecurity.”“Says the woman, who just cried ove

“That’s a strange cloud.” I looked up into the bruised gray sky as we joined the group of bikers roaring across the countryside towards the main camp for the week-long bikers' Soirée.“You think there will be a storm?” Colt pulled up his visor, even as I noticed some of the others pointing out the greenish tinge near the horizon where it seemed sunlight was fighting to break out through storm-thick clouds.“I guess. Those clouds look too low, too heavy,” I responded, and Colt slammed his helmet shut again, reversing immediately without signaling to his colleagues. I smiled into his jacket, even among a group of rebels, he was still a rebel. He did not wait for whoever was in charge here to suggest a place to wait out the storm. As he drove in the opposite direction, I stared at the bikers we flew past from behind my visor, their bandannas, neck scarfs and arm bands signifying what club they belonged to.This Hungarian club was different from anyone I had ever seen, ranging from boys