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“Sometimes, I wonder about you, dem?n. But I will always have your back. Even if you are a pain in my ass.” With an amused smile and a shake of his head, he returns to his drink.
My attention’s drawn to my beer-soaked shirt, sitting on the bar and bruised knuckle, shaking my head at how stupid this situation is. So fucking unnecessary. Exhale and let out a frustrated breath. “Probably should get out of here. I can almost guarantee Princess ran to Daddy using every bruise and tears to get what she wants, which is me… gone. That girl is going to do everything she can to manipulate him. Alpha men are predictably cousin and stupid. And the little bitch will play it up. She will cry foul about how the horrible Black girl who claims to be her sister attacked and embarrassed her. I’ll let it play out. Because then I will know. I will know if this is going to be worth it.” I sigh.
Rocket shifts in his eyes are contemplative. “Women like her have played the victim for millennia. It's what they do. They never admit to their mistakes, the damage they've done, the harm they’ve caused, or that they are the ones that started shit to begin with but were too pussy to follow through and own their shit. You aren’t wrong. She wants you gone. Her rant and the way she went about this shit make it obvious. Just remember, no matter the personal shit, she is an innocent bitch and doesn’t deserve what is coming for her. Even I know you are second-guessing that. You are better than this… her. Don’t let this spoiled MC Princess turn you into something you are not. You are better than that.” He chuckles because he sees the shocked look in my eyes. Rocket is not the one to calm me down. He isn’t the one to be logical. He is my blow-shit-up and asks questions later, cousin.
My brow furrowed. “What the fuck?” My eyes narrow on my typically brutish cousin. “When did you become the reasonable one?” I say in mock shock.
He smirks as he tips his beer to me. “I have my moments.”
We both chuckle. “If by moments you mean this one time, then sure.” He guffaws as I call a prospect over, handing him my card and telling him to give it to his VP and only his VP. On the back, I wrote a message he’d understand because this is business, and that’s all I have time for.
Not having the mental capacity to think about anything else, not his words, how he makes me feel, or what just went down between my sister and me. Is it a pussy move to run away with my tail between my legs? Yes, yes, it is. But I’m fucking done with this night. I’m done. With a last pull of my beer and a nod to Rocket, I stand without a word and walk out of the clubhouse. Knowing that shit is going to get damn interesting, I walk back into this building.
Fourteen
BELLAMY
?
It’s been a few days since the incident at the clubhouse. And it’s been busy. Blaze laid into my ass, and, of course, I had to appease him so he wouldn’t go squealing to mother mayhem about my epic fuck up. Sin is still pissed. Rocket watches me, knowing far more than I want or need him to. Pain works. He’s always working, occasionally playing referee between my siblings and me. A game plan is in place, and since things went so swimmingly with my accidental introduction to LSMC and our estranged family, it should all be copasetic from here on out. Right? Right.
During my morning workout, Bull texted, which wasn’t completely unexpected. The internal tantrum I had about it being Bull, who reached out and not him, has left me in a shitty mood. Why, you ask? Mr. Your Mine hasn’t reached out once. I haven’t received a text, call, snail mail, or carrier pigeon. Zero, zip, nada, nothing. He bet the fucker was counting on my reaction, even if he didn’t know for sure. Asshole.
And now, two nights later, we are sitting at the clubhouse bar drinking beer. That atmosphere isn’t as in your face as Friday night, but it isn't tame.
“So, VP, you gonna need a little stress relief after all the mess she caused?”
The man standing next to me I work overtime to ignore. I refuse to acknowledge the club girl slash bartender and the sneer that is undoubtedly on her face. My hand flexes around my bottleneck because keeping my temper in check is the name of the game. Yes, I could snatch her up and over this bar and beat the brakes off her ass, but I won’t. I shake my head and snort. No matter the club, club pussy is all the same. They are always big and bad until you beat that ass. I roll my eyes, which don’t go unnoticed. A feminine scoff has me lazily looking at her, and the sneers on her face has me smirking at her, pissing her off. She is clearly on a mission and undeterred. Fluttering her eyes and pursuing her nonexistent lips, she shifts her focus back to her target, plastering a look on her face that makes her look constipated. Whatever it is, I don’t think it will work out how she believes it will. I might be wrong.
“Naw, sweetheart. I got work to do. And a lady to watch over.” I feel his body shift closer to mine. I can feel his eyes on me, ultimately dismissing her. And boy, does that piss her off. The glare she sends me may work on other chicks. But, to me, it’s cute.
“Whelp, this was fun. Maybe next time. Try a more… subtle approach. Desperate is so unladylike.” I smile my biggest and brightest smile. She huffs, gives me her dirtiest glare, and stomps away.
Taz leans further into me, effectively speaking into my ear, which seems to be his favorite thing to do. Realizing quickly that he likes to cause turmoil between my body and brain. And, of course, my body, the dirty whore she, reacts greedily to his attention.
“You want to give me a little on the shit you were talking the other night to Princess?” When I say nothing, he sighs and brushes his nose against my ear, and I stiffen. When he gets no reaction from me, he leans away and continues, “I know you’re pissed. I get it. I do. But my job is to know shit coming for my club. Need to know what we are walking into here. Our Tech guy found a few things, but I want to hear what you have, compare notes.” He holds up a hand when I turn my head and look at him with narrowed eyes. Seriously? Why must you be so close to me? He doesn’t get the hint that I need his yummy-smelling goodness to back the fuck up. I only have so much willpower.
Leaning in again. “As VP, I have to know what's going on. I need to know if there are any immediate threats to my club or Prez. My job is to protect my club and all those we claim as family. And that includes you, my little tornado. Even if you feel it’s you here to protect us.” He leans closer and lowers his voice, “And don’t think we ain't talking about what this...” he points between the two of us, “…is. Because I sure as shit am. You ran off on me the other night, but don’t think that shit’s going to fly again.” I stare into his eyes, and he winks and steps back from me. His closeness wreaks havoc on me, even if I’m working damn hard not to show it outwardly.
Sigh, rubbing my hand over my forehead.
“Long story short, as I said the other night to Princess Peach. Beverly made shit choices in her attempt to get out of her marriage contract when she did what she did.” I give him a pointed look. I’m sure he can read between the lines. “Even though it was delayed, it was not broken. Only transferred.” Leaving the implication hanging in the air.
I watch in fascination as he realizes exactly what I mean. His face closes off. He is no longer a guy who wants to get in my panties but the VP of LSMC. Seeing the change in him doesn’t surprise or shock me. I sense he’s unsure how to proceed with this conversation because we’re out in the open. And this is not something that needs to be public knowledge.
His oh-so-sexy, gravelly voice breaks me out of my thoughts, “So, who sent you, andhow do you know about it? And why the fuck hasn’t Beverly said a damn thing to Prez?” A look of resignation and understanding crosses his face as he lets out a humorless chuckle. “I know she hates the club. Always has. But that's her kid. I didn’t think she’d be that fucked up to serve her kid up on a silver platter.” A look of pure disdain crosses his face. And there you have it, ladies and gents. He reads between the lines. And again, that blank look flickers and returns.
It's not me who answers. “When Beverly married Don Alessandro Ferrari, things with the mafia started changing. The contract was supposed to be the start of something bigger. Beverly’s game interrupted that. The mafia has long memories. So her game may have delayed shit, but it didn’t change a damn thing. Moves are being made, and the pawn is back on the table. The Ferrari family in Florida has joined the rat race because of Beverly. They stand to gain considerable connections with the fulfillment of the contract. The Berlusconi family is trying to right a two-decade-old wrong and gain a greater foothold out of Southern states, branching out of their Texas territory. The new contract is signed, sealed, and is awaiting delivery. They have no regard for the girl or her life. The Ferrari and Berlusconi families are hard-pressed to ensure this doesn’t go sideways again. Which is what we hope to make happen. Bell and Blazes Ma has been monitoring the situation since discovering what was happening behind the scenes.” he says all that without taking a breath.
Raising his eyes from his beer, Pain points between Taz and me with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “So, what’s going on between you two, hmm? I feel a little sexual tension. Maybe a little boot-knocking before the meeting with Papa Bear will calm your tits.” He chuckles as if he hasn’t just rocked Taz’s world with the information he shared. I narrow my eyes on my cousin, who acts like he isn’t stirring shit. Rocket did not keep his damn mouth shut.
The stool scrapes the ground, and Taz jumps to his feet. “Shit,” choosing to ignore Pain's questions, which I’m not upset by at all, I watch him as the information sinks in. His hands clench and unclench as he stares down at me. Thankfully, his sudden mood change hasn’t garnered anyone's attention outside our little group. He has a contemplative look on his face.
“She manipulated their system to benefit herself. Selfish fucking motherfucking sorry ass cunt.” He growls.
The fury in his eyes is palpable and not unwarranted. His jaw ticks. His club is about to be pulled into a war no one saw coming or was prepared for because, if this plays out the way, I think it will. If Gunner refuses to hand over his daughter, shit will get ugly. And the war he thought he was preventing by marrying Beverly is rearing its ugly head twenty years later.
Taz turns abruptly, heading to the hall that leads to the Prez's office. I stay seated with the rest of my team and watch him go. When he reaches the mouth of the hallway, he turns, and his eyes catch mine. “I need to talk to Prez. I know you have more to talk with him about, but we can get some shit started within the club while all of you hammer out whatever else you need to. Fair warning, Princess was in his ear, so he has been in a shit mood the last few days.” He sends me an apologetic look. I shrug in response. Princess did what I knew she would. Which guarantees that this meeting will turn into round two of this shit show we call a family reunion.
