Chapter 18
King/Dante
I jumped up and grabbed my cut, sliding my phone out and answering it with a snarl when I saw Joker’s name flashing on the screen.
“Sorry, Prez, but your ex-wife is at the gate and causing one helluva scene.”
I turned away and stalked over toward the staircase, trying to put some distance between me and Ella, who was now busying herself in the kitchen.
“What the fuck does she want?” I hissed quietly.
“She’s demanding to speak with you. I’m pretty sure she’s high as a kite, too.”
My blood pressure shot up when his words registered. “Did she drive there?”
“Nah, man. She’s with some pasty lookin’ fucker in a rusted out, piece of shit Chevy Cavalier.”
“Tell her you’re gonna call the cops, then do it if she doesn’t leave in the next two minutes.”
“You got it, Prez.”
I disconnected the call and slipped my phone into my back pocket, just in case they needed to reach me again. I bracedmy hands on the stair railing, then turned around at the sound of Ella’s footsteps behind me.
She laid a gentle hand on my shoulder as she asked if everything was all right.
“Yeah,” I heaved a sigh. “My ex-wife is raising hell at the compound. That was one of my brothers, wanting to know how I wanted to deal with it.”
“Do you need to go?” Some of my frustration with Christy eased as I registered the disappointment in Ella’s voice.
“No, sugar. I told him to call the cops on her if she wouldn’t leave.”
I turned and grabbed her hand, pulling her back over to the couch with me. She sat down, pulling her legs up under herself so she could face me as I sat down on the other end.
“Wow. I take it you don’t get along with her?“ Her eyes were wide with surprise, but surprisingly, no judgement.
I barked a laugh. “That’s a fucking understatement, El.”
“Tell me about her?” Ella prompted.
My jaw clenched and I gritted my teeth, hating the idea of talking about Christy. I knew she needed to know though, if we were to have any kind of relationship.
“I went to high school with Christy. She got pregnant not long after graduation, and I married her because it seemed like the right thing to do. I didn’t love her, but I was determined to be a good husband and father. I had just started prospecting for the club, and it was hard, but I tried to make it work. I spent the next seven years living in a war zone and have the battle scars to prove it. Literally.” I pointed to a thin white line barely noticeable along my hairline. “I still have a small scar right herefrom the night she hit me with a beer bottle. She was drunk, and I made the mistake of trying to take it away from her.”
Ella gasped and shifted closer, reaching out to touch the small scar with her fingertip. When she lowered her hand, I reached for it, threading my fingers through hers before resting our clasped hands on my thigh. I tipped my head back and rested it on the back of the couch, losing myself in the memories of my fucking nightmare of a marriage.
“That night was the last straw. I had put up with her childish temper tantrums and her constant whining about being ‘stuck at home’while her friends were out partying. I’d ignored her non-stop bitching that I was never home – despite the fact that if I wasn’t home, it was because I was working my ass off at The Inferno to support her and our sons. I didn’t even bother calling her out when I suspected her of cheating, but I had to draw the line at exposing the boys to a drunken, physically abusive, piece-of-shit mother.”
“I am so sorry, Dante. I hate that you had to go through that.”
I shrugged. “It was hell at the time, but I got Rome and Jagger out of it, so it was worth it. I filed for divorce the next day. I tried to fight for full custody, but it was rare for a father to win that battle back then, especially since I ran a bar and was a member of the MC. Christy cleaned herself up for court and asked for full custody herself, partly to make sure she got plenty of child support, but also to fuck me over because she knew it would destroy me to lose my boys. Fear of losing them was the only reason I’d stayed with the bitch as long as I had, and she knew it.”
“Oh my God,” Ella looked stunned, and clasped my hand tighter, bringing her other hand down to cover mine. I loved howfucking soft her skin was and took a second to savor the feeling before I finished my story.
“I hired a damned shark for a lawyer – cost me an arm and a leg, but it was worth every fucking penny. He was able to convince the judge to grant me joint custody with liberal visitation. I got the boys three nights a week, and every other weekend, plus two months in the summer. Since we basically split custody and wasn’t raking in the child support like she’d assumed she would, it didn’t take long for her to decide it was more fun to party with her friends at all hours, so I had the boys more often than not. That was just fine with me.”
I stopped and took a deep breath, hating to even think about what that raging thundercunt had done next.
“Six months after the divorce was final, we had a huge fight when she dropped them off for the weekend. I’d known she was in one her moods – could see it on her face – so I’d sent the boys out to play in the back yard. Thank fuck I did, because it got ugly. It started off with pretty much the same bullshit she’d spewed over the years - having kids was the worst thing that had ever happened to her and that the boys were cramping her style and dragging her down. I was getting ready to offer her twenty-five grand to give me full custody and sign away her rights, when she told me that she her new man didn’t want ‘another man’s brats’hanging around, so I could have them. She took off, and we didn’t hear from her again for almost six months.”
