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“Understood.”
“You’ve got to back off, Bodie.”
Pissed, I brought up the past, only slightly sorry to dredge up painful memories. “And if it was Trish in danger? What
then?”
Grim blew out a breath. “Fuck.” He stood up, flinging back his chair in a rush. “You think that’s not fucking with my head? I have a club to run. I can’t afford to be careless or let my emotions rule my fuckin’ choices.”
He was right.
Didn’t change the circumstances or how I felt.
I snatched my smokes from my cut and lit up, puffing away as I tried not to lose my temper. My Reaper was still far too near to making an appearance and I knew Grim sensed how close I was to the edge.
The nicotine did little to soothe my agitation. “I get what you’re sayin’, brother. I do.”
Grim paced the length of the chapel, clearly frustrated. “He’s got to make the first move. I know that doesn’t sit well but it’s how shit is gotta be.”
“Because of his connections,” I spat, bitter as fuck because it meant I was put on a fucking leash.
“You know he’s Salazar’s man. His club has connections to the Cartel.”
“So what if the Primal Rage MC is owned by Salazar? That’s their bullshit to sort out.”
“Not really, especially if Chamuco patches in completely with the Scorpions. Up until now he’s been more of a nomad with Primal. But he still has a tight connection with Razr and that means he’s also on Salazar’s radar.”
Fuck. He couldn’t be a member of two clubs at once which meant he was probably going to become a full patch with the Scorpions out of vengeance alone. “You think he’s gonna do it?”
“It’d be a smart move for Chamuco. A foot in both clubs and answering to more than Salazar alone.”
Scrubbing a hand down my face, all I wanted to do was end the threat against my woman and it wasn’t going to happen.
“Salazar doesn’t want anything to mess with his supply business. It’s Guerrero Cartel territory. We have an understanding, Bodie. Chamuco has to break that contract first. If he jeopardizes Salazar’s coke, hell will rein down upon him. Hell, they may take him out for you.”
I snorted. “I’m not that fuckin’ lucky.”
“If shit goes down, it can’t start with us.”
His final verdict issued, there was nothing I could say to change his mind.
“Fuck,” I roared, smashing my cigarette in one of the ashtrays on the table.
I was on my feet and hand punching through the wall before I realized my Reaper had surfaced and I’d damaged the whole area, plunging through the drywall and into the next room which happened to be where several of my brothers were shooting pool. Rael narrowed his eyes and Hannibal chuckled at the mess.
This wasn’t going to end well.
Turning the knob, I opened the door and let myself in, tugging on the key that often got stuck in the lock. Weeks had lapsed since I was back in the same apartment that I once shared with Trish, but nothing was out of place, just a little dustier than the last time I was here.
I dropped my keys and handbag on the rickety table where Trish and I always kept these items out of habit and headed into the kitchen for a drink. My shift at work was so goddamn uneventful it was prompting the urge for excitement and release – neither of which was happening without Bodie since he was busy with club stuff or whatever those bikers did all day long.
Hell if I knew.
That was one of the things I missed the most since all the shit that went down in recent months. My job at the bar with Trish was fun. We danced, laughed, drank, and had a good time together as well as with the customers. She was my best friend and with her gone, I had yet to find another girl that completed me the way she did. Trish and I were cut from the same cloth. Two slightly broken souls trying to find our way in the world who shared a love for bad boys, makeup, and hard rock music.
Sighing, I wished for the hundredth time that my bestie hadn’t taken off and left Tonopah. Couldn’t say that I blamed her. The situation had been shitty and being kidnapped had a way of screwing with your head. I was stupid enough to stick around and that had everything to do with a certain tattooed biker who stole my heart with his cocky smile and confident swagger.
Opening the fridge, I scanned the contents and found only bottles of booze. It was tempting to pop off the top of a beer or mix a quick cocktail, but it wasn’t what I really wanted. Alcohol only masked the real issue, the horrid memories of the things I’d been forced to see and endure. The worst was knowing that all the shit from my past wasn’t really my fault. The blame lay with my twin and I couldn’t even be mad at her because she wasn’t here anymore.
