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“I’ll walk you to your car and tell you.” He’s cryptic, which only makes shit worse. I put all of my work away, wave at Maisy to let her know I’m leaving, and go with Razor.
“At least tell me if Hunter’s hurt,” I plead once I’m standing beside him. Razor’s hand is on my elbow guiding me towards the elevator.
“He’s okay. I’ll tell you everything once we’re outside the building and by your car. I’m shocked as shit Cannon hasn’t upgraded your ride yet. That two-door coupe was good while you were in high school and living in town, but what happens when you travel from here to his house? Not too safe, girly.” If I could roll my eyes any harder, I would.
“He’s probably letting me adjust to all the current changes and knows I’m trying to pay off a few student loans I took out to pay for nursing school.” My father gave me a place to live rent free and not pay a dime when it came to food, car insurance, cell phone bill, and gas, but other stuff like what my scholarships didn’t pay, I had to pick up the slack. Shit, I’m still living that way, minus the gas and food situation. That’s because my dad still hasn’t kicked me off his plans yet, something about it being cheaper to have multiple, so it is what it is.
“Keep thinking that, Monroe.” He shuts up, thankfully, until we’re down on the first floor and walking out the building. It only takes us a few more minutes of silence until we’re by my car, which his bike is parked right next to.
“Got a text from Cannon tellin’ me about a flower delivery. Hell, he texted Shovel and Doc too when he listened to your voicemail. After he called and texted you. See, Cannon’s nine hours away doin’ club shit, which I know you get, so don’t go gettin’ your panties in a twist and callin’ Raven. I’m not sleeping on a couch, and she’ll be ‘All women stand together’, so I’m not bein’ a dick. What I will say is Cannon’s worried enough he reaches out to his brothers. Doc is out of town at some shit for work, so that leaves me and Shovel trying to decipher this shit over flowers that were sent to you, and they didn’t come from Cannon,” he finally states.
“Then who would send them? It’s not like I talk to a whole lot of people outside of the staff, and Dad knows everyone. You don’t think this is left over from before?” My gut clenches. I’ve tried to leave that horrible frightening day in the past, and for the most part I have, but if this is the Cartel coming back with a vengeance, I don’t know that I’m strong enough to deal with it again.
“No, and if it were, you’d be in lockdown already. Ruger’s workin’ an angle, but for the time being, with Cannon and Doc being out of town, we need you to stay at the club.” Razor’s word is law, but I wouldn’t fight him on this anyways.
“Okay, I already have bags in my car, so I’ll just follow you to the clubhouse.” He eases my mind although I could really use Cannon right now, just for a bit of reassurance.
“Sounds good. I promise you’re okay. We’re all just being cautious.” My hand dives back into my purse, searching for my keys. “Monroe, thinkin’ you and Raven are gonna have a talk about you being on the ready without taking years to look for a phone or your car keys.”
“Oh, please, she carries more shit than Sadie has in a diaper bag and purse combined,” I reply.
“Not anymore.” He arches his eyebrow in that way you know not to question him again. Ugh, men.
“I know, I know. I’m not usually this unorganized, but I was talking to Hunter this morning and threw everything inside my bag when I realized the time. I didn’t want to be late. You’re right though. I’ll organize my crap.” Finally hearing the jingle, I grab the keys and show them to Razor.
“Fuckin’ finally.” He walks off, shaking his head, chuckling. I roll my eyes, open my car door, and follow Razor to my home away from home.
Fifteen
Cannon
“Pleasure doing business with you, Cannon, Bennett,” Nikolai tells me. He’s the Capo to Vladmir Volkov, the Russian Mafia we’ve been dealing with. I’d like to say I got some shuteye last night and that my plans with Monroe came to fruition. Sadly, they fuckin’ didn’t. Instead, the few minutes we got to talk was her apologizing like she did something wrong. As fuckin’ if. My call waitin’ interrupted those minutes, and I had to get off the phone without hearing her get off, to talk to Shovel, Razor, and Ruger. Talk about a boner killer. Ruger still couldn’t figure out who sent those flowers, even with the florist’s name. The owner was no help saying a gentleman walked in, paid cash, and she didn’t have shit for security cameras.
