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Kev called me out early, dragging me away from the beautiful woman that was snuggled contently into my side. Chelsea was a cuddler. I wasn’t big on displays of affection, but there was something about her that made me want to tuck her into my side and never let her leave. I’d grown accustomed to waking up with her at my side. It was something over the last few years that had become normal for us.
Sure, I’d been with other club girls on the odd occasion. Sometimes on the road the need for a warm body at night had become too much. But what I had come to hate, was the guilt that sat in my gut after every encounter. Chelsea had buried herself under my skin—her touch, her voice, and her smile were all at the forefront of my mind.
So eventually I just stopped. I no longer shared mine or any other bed with another woman. Yeah, it sounded fucking stupid. In my head, this woman was mine. I didn’t want another. But I wouldn’t claim her as my own.
I was a fucking idiot.
I didn’t know how else to explain it.
I tugged on my jeans and threw my cut on over my naked torso before I answered the door. I gave Kev a small lift of my chin. “What’s up?”
“Blizzard’s waiting in church. He’s got some shit to show you,” he explained as he walked next to me down the hallway.
“Is this shit urgent or do I have time to make coffee?” I grumbled.
Kev chuckled. “You might need something a little stronger than that.”
I scrubbed my face with my hand. “Coffee. Need fucking coffee.”
I took a quick detour to the kitchen where Sammy was prepping breakfast and got her to pour me a cup—black. I had the feeling it was just going to be one of those days.
I sat in my chair at the head of the table. Even after all these years it was still surreal to be sitting here in front of my men just like my father had before me. They looked to me for direction and support and I held my head high. The fact that I was lucky to have so many men ready to stand at my back at the drop of a hat was definitely not lost on me.
Unlike some MC Presidents, I never took for granted that I had the power to either raise my men or completely destroy them.
“So what’s the deal?” I grunted before taking a sip of my coffee.
Blizzard sat to my right, some papers strewn out over the table. Kev, Leo, and Wrench joined us too, all looking at Blizzard with varying expressions. Some concern, some anger.
“The first thing—”
I groaned. “There’s more than one thing?”
He hit me with a serious look that said shut the fuck up. I glared back at him, but he continued, “We found some shit in Target’s things that were a little...worrying.”
I frowned. “How worrying?”
He picked up a brown colored folder and pushed it across the table to me. I slapped my hand down on top of it, stopping it from sliding off the side and onto the floor. I stared at it for a minute, willing myself to open the front page, but the sickening feeling of dread in my stomach froze my body, afraid of what I would find.
I flipped it open.
There were pages of documents, documents that I had seen before and were of no real big surprise. I flicked through them. “Are these from Chelsea’s background check?”
He nodded. “I’m not sure if he was looking for something, or if he found what he wanted in that pile of papers, but they’re copies of the ones we hold in the office safe.”
“How the fuck did that bastard get in the safe?” I snapped.
Blizzard was unaffected by my sharpness and continued to flick through the papers before him. “I wouldn’t have a clue. But that’s not the only thing that we found.”
Blizzard and I were the only ones who had the combination to the safe that was located inside my office. Not only that, but it was a combination that we changed monthly and never written down. It never had any importance to either of us—birthdays, ages, addresses—it was always randomly chosen. How that fucker had figured it out, I had no damn idea.
The information that was kept in the safe was private, but not incriminating. We had other ways to store that kind of thing. In the safe, we mainly held personal documents for members of the club. It was all types of information like background checks for when a new member prospects—family names and addresses, account information for club payments, and any legal information.
“What’s all the rest of this shit?” I asked, gesturing to the other papers scattered over the table.
“Chelsea’s paperwork was the same as the original. Target had just taken a copy and put it back. But all this stuff, it’s been altered,” Wrench explained, picking up one of the loose pieces. “This shit says I did time when I was twenty-three. I didn’t get locked up that year.”
“Same with mine,” Leo said pointing to the pile of papers. “It says I was in prison that year, but not only is it wrong, it’s also named with a prison out of state.”
