* * *
The next day, I stared at my paycheck in disbelief. It was just over half what I was owed. The last few paychecks, I’d had to fight for what I was owed, and I wasdone.
“Valerie,” I growled, finding her in the back room, likely strategizing how else she could make my life difficult. “I want the rest of my pay. Now.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “That is what you’re owed,” she sniffed.
“Honest to God? Do you even know who you’re fucking with?” I demanded. And in reality, she probably didn’t. She was still relatively new in town, and I’d kept my club life separate, wanting my independence. But suddenly, unleashing my family’s wrath on her didn’t sound so bad.
But first, she’d have mine.
“I will ask you once more before guaranteeing that if you don’t pay me what you owe me, you’ll regret it.”
“Or what?” she scoffed.
“Believe that’s the sound of your rent goin’ up.” My pop’s growl sounded behind me. Apparently, he’d volunteered for babysitting duty today.
She narrowed her eyes. “You don’t own the building.”
“Doesn’t matter.” He shrugged, his countenance casual, but I knew he was anything but. “Knights own this fucking town—or haven’t you noticed? We can move toward eviction, you keep talkin’.”
Now I was enjoying myself.
She blanched and appeared to consider her options.
“You got ten seconds to hand my daughter what you owe her, or I’ll stop being so generous.”
“Fine,” she huffed, digging through her desk and scribbling out a check.
“In case it wasn’t obvious, I quit,” I declared, whipping the check from her outstretched hand.
“Come on, baby, let’s get shot of this shit hole,” Pop declared, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.
“And you won’t… raise the rent?” Valerie stammered.
“With the way you’ve treated my daughter? Not to mention your shit stain of a son, you’re lucky that’s all I’m doin’,” he scoffed. “Figure you’re fucked anyway; you just lost the best thing you had.”
“Well, that was fun,” I exclaimed as we made our way to his truck.
“Long time comin’,” he grumbled, opening the passenger side door for me.
“You knew she was giving me trouble?” I asked as he climbed in and started the engine.
He shot me a look.
“Of course you did,” I mumbled. “I guess I should be impressed with your restraint.”
He snorted. “Not sure how restrained I’ve been. Had some of the brothers run that piece of shit son of hers out of town this morning. He may or may not have suffered a few licks in between. Think it’s fair to say he’ll be keepin’ his distance. Now, what do you say we go get something to eat?”
I looked over at him, knowing he was offering more than food—that he was offering to talk, and hopefully to listen. “Sounds good,” I agreed softly.
He turned the radio up, a familiar country song drifting through the speakers as I looked out the window, gathering my thoughts—my last paycheck clutched between my fingers.
I was still in much the same state as we hopped out of the truck with the sandwiches we’d picked up and headed for a picnic bench near the lake I’d spent so much of my youth freezing in. It was about as nature-y as I got and also one of my favorite places in Hawthorne.
“I’m sorry I kept things from you,” I began, figuring I should forge right in. “With work, I just wanted a chance to sort it out myself. My entire life, the club has been like a giant cushion for me, softening any fall. And I guess I just wanted to make sure I know how to land.”
He eyed me intently. “Honey, no doubt you can land on your feet. And no reason you have to do that alone.”
