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We knew this job was going to be messy. What a shit show of a day it’s been. But we live for the excitement of the job, so we weren’t entirely unprepared for it to get ugly. We knew the possibility of spilling blood was inevitable. We’ve been puttering around surveilling the club for months. Blaze and Bell have had their eyes on communication–things were good until they weren’t.
Blaze and Bell said that the uncoordinated attack showed the Italians' desperation, and they weren’t wrong. Marco and Beverly scraped the bottom of the barrel with the ide?ts they hired. Although I don’t think Rossi, Berlusconi, or Ferrari realize the Churches have the Organization on their side, which is good. That puts us uniquely positioned to protect the club from the shadows. But they’ll know soon enough.
The man everyone fears will not be getting his grubby hands on Presley. But I fear he isn’t as far away as they may think. I don’t know for sure–it is just a feeling. And my feelings are never wrong.
Sitting in the passenger seat, my mind goes to my sister. I’m trying not to think about what is happening between her and Taz. I had my suspicions. Okay, that’s not the complete truth. I saw it coming from a mile away, even if my sister had tried denying it for the last few weeks. I’d asked her more than once. She refused to talk about it, or she would change the subject, but I knew it was game over for them both. Watching how he grabbed her that first night, the possessiveness behind his eyes. Even if she refused to admit it, that was the beginning of them. Honestly, I’m happy for her. I'm not sure how it will all work out because the guy’s intense and very much an alpha hole. And my sister, well, she’s hell on wheels on the best of days.
But that is their story, and I’m staying out of it.
I’ve got my own story, which I’m hell-bent on keeping to myself. Bell isn’t the only one who has caught a case of feeling shit. For me, that shit can’t happen. I won’t let it happen. I’m not a girl who roams this world with hope in her heart and stars in her eyes. Letting out a harsh breath, I push further into the headrest, trying to think about anyone but him. I stare straight ahead, trying not to think of anything but the job. The job is all I have, all I will ever have.
I recognize that trying to talk to my brother is pointless; Blaze will be in his head for a while. One thing I know is that he takes every mistake and mishap personally. He’ll beat himself up for not finding the information sooner. And he will analyze every move he’s made until now–to death. And sometimes, we have to let him have his process.
The problem with his processing is that we are being followed, and Blaze has yet to see it, but he has me. He may not realize it, but Bell isn’t the only one not seeing and thinking clearly. When Mom told them everything, I knew that as much as they wanted to, they wouldn’t be able to keep their emotions out of it. They are still them. They are still badass motherfuckers who will get the job done. But they are human. They fall in love and break like everyone else. Which I’m sure is another thing Blaze will beat himself up about. Pain, Rocket, and I have his back and have been watching the car that’s not so discreetly following us.
I get it, though. Everything for them just imploded with the knowledge and truths of their beginning. There is this pressure for them to fix a problem that has scarred our mother all of their lives. Knowing everything has dealt them a significant blow, finding out about their parents and how their story ended. Mom had always been honest with them about who their dad was. They knew about him; they didn’t know him. I never understood why they never wanted to learn more about the guy and his life. But I never pushed. They held back their questions when we were younger. But when that door opened, they needed to know more. Mom looked so sad days after explaining, and whenever she talked about him–the man who broke her. She has always had this look in her eyes. There was a pain there that couldn’t be put into words. And seeing her like that, I think, affected them in more ways than they even know.
I shake my head and look at my rearview mirror, my eyes narrowing. Pain shifts, he knows, and when his eyes meet mine, I nod.
Now, back to the ide?ts following us. We love this part of the job. We want whoever it is alive and breathing to find out who they are, and if they are a part of the same group that tried to take Gunner and his club out earlier or a new set of problems.
This is going to be fun. I smirk, adjusting in my seat.
Thirty-Three
TAZ
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After church.
Walking into the main room, it’s packed to the gills with old ladies and kids. It’s organized chaos. Our ol’ ladies are some of the best and most respected among LSMC's ol’ ladies. Being the mother chapter, we hold women to a higher standard, which shows in how they come together to get shit done. Rarely do we have a rotten apple in the bunch, and thank fuck for that. The last one reeked fucking havoc on the club, and it’s clear her daughter has picked up where she left off.
Watching brothers interact with their families has me searching for my woman. At thirty-six, I’m ready. I’ll probably become a lunatic if I find out my little swimmers did their job. Finding my woman at the bar talking to a few of the brothers, I squeeze her to me and look down at her. I’m such a fucking pussy for this girl. It’s damn ridiculous. Thinking about her body changing and swelling with my kid. Fuck, that shit has me hard as shit.
Bell leans into my side as she talks to Pike and Whistler, our Road Captain and Secretary. Something prickles in the back of my neck. Turning my head, my eyes connect with Princess, who is staring daggers at me. Holding her stare with a glare of my own that’s filled with warning, she realizes this and turns away.
The night continues, and I shuffle my woman around the main room, introducing her to brothers, their old ladies, and kids.
Prez catches my eye. The glare he sends me makes it clear he isn’t happy with me. When he gives me a chin lift, I know what’s coming. And I’m ready for it. Walking away from my girl, she doesn't know her father is about to beat my ass. With a sigh, I make my way to Prez and follow him to his office. Neither of us speaks. Closing the door behind me the second I turned to face him, he was on my ass. Fuck.
“You fucked her? You claimed her. And said not a fucking word? Didn’t have enough fucking respect for me to come to me, you motherfucker?” He bellows, glaring down at me as I work my jaw, not from a hit but to keep my cool and not retaliate.
“When you fucked around with Princess, I understood the circumstances. I didn’t like it. But I respected you for coming to me about it. I know that girl and how she has been sniffing after you for years, But I let that shit go because I knew the type of man you were. You have had my trust and respect for nearly two decades. But then… My daughter, whom I’ve never met, shows up, and what? Your priority was to see if you could fuck over BOTH MY DAUGHTERS.” He seethes.
Now hold all the way the fuck up. I’m up and off the ground and in his face so fucking faster than he could blink. I don’t give a fuck that he is my president. He will not diminish what Bellamy and I have, relegating it to some petty shit. Fuck that.
“Prez, you want to ream my ass for claiming your girl? I'll take that shit. I knew it was coming. But what you are not fixing to fucking do is diminish what is between Bellamy and me. Not in this motherfucking lifetime or the next. That girl knocked me on my ass the second I saw her. She will be nothing less than fucking everything to me, my fucking queen.” I band my fist over my heart as I glare at my friend and Prez. “I never, and I mean fucking never, saw Princess as anything but your daughter, and that is it. The night that shit went down with her, I was fucked up, things were shit for me, and I was fucked off about it and drank my ass into oblivion. But I knew Princess was not who I needed and stopped it before shit went too far. Yeah, she tried with me a few times, and I shut that down every time. But never, not fucking ever, did I want Princess, and I never fucking will. So don’t you fucking dare diminish who my fucking woman is to me! DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE! PREZ OR NOT, I WON’T FUCKING HAVE IT.” My breaths are choppy. My hands clenched at my side. I will go to fucking war for my woman. I’m dead ass serious, he can be pissed about me claiming Bellamy, but he will not compare my relationship with her with the shit that went down with Princess. No fucking way, no fucking how.
We stood glaring at one another, breathing hard like fucking bulls, ready to charge. I refuse to fucking back down. I know my mind, and I know what I want and what the fuck I deserve. And that is Bellamy. Prez stares at me for a little longer before his face breaks into a smile. Fucking Christ.
“Well, shit. All right then, just wanted to make sure.” he says with amusement in his eyes. This motherfucker. Shit, my ribs goddamned hurt. He chuckles. “I stayed away from your pretty face for my benefit. Don’t need another reason for my daughter to hate my ass.” His eyes soften, and a sadness shines in their depths. “If I leave any bruising on your pretty little face, it would put me back at the top of her shit list. As your Prez, I know you are a good man and will treat any woman you claim with respect and be devoted. But as her father, I’m telling you.” He steps closer to me, his voice lowers, and his eyes are clear and full of fatherly determination to get his point across. “I will bury you if you hurt my girl. Bellamy may hide the hurt I caused her. But I see it, and I don’t want her hurting any fucking more. You got me, VP?” he says, expression showing me he means every fucking word. He may not have been her father for long, but Prez is her father and will protect her, even if she doesn’t want or need him to.
I give him a nod, and once I can calm my ass the fuck down. I answer.
“I got you, Prez, and I would die before I’d ever hurt my woman. Hell, she and Blaze would take me out long before you could.” I say in all seriousness but with amusement lacing my voice.
