He thought about asking them to leave, fearing they might awaken and ask Victory to join them. While highly unlikely, a man had a right to protect what was his, and Victory was, in every way he found to explain things, his woman. Soon, he’d put things into perspective and publicly claim her as his old lady. Maybe then he’d tell the world—he’d loved her since he’d first held her in his arms. Then everyone would know why he’d been so concerned with Damsel Road, why Devon had given up trafficking drugs and women. Why he—much to the majority of the club members’ dismay—had begun to operate legitimate businesses within the local chapter of the Heroes and Rogues. He’d cleaned up his act for a reason. He’d stayed committed to his cause for a purpose. He’d known this day would come. He just hadn’t known the precise day, the approximate hour. Meeting Logan in the conference room, Devon handed him a disc secured in a plastic case. “You look freshly fucked,” Logan said, tucking the flat square inside his leather jacket.
