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“I didn’t say sheblamedme for it; I said she was pissed about it,” Ozzy said, as if that shit was some sort of explanation.
Maybe it was.
Just some shit I didn’t understand.
“Should I be worried about that? Her being pissed at me for a reason I don’t understand?”
He smirked. “That’s why I said it’s best to stay out of her way. You’re inked, so you’re good with everybody. But she ain’t everybody, so you ain’t good.”
“Meaning?” I insisted, just wanting a clear answer, but he shook his head.
“Meaning, stay out her damn face as much as you can.”
I sighed, knowing it was pointless to press the man for any further answers on that front. “Okay… so what do I do instead?”
“Go see Retta, a couple doors down. Get her to put your package together.”
“Bet.”
I didn’t linger, waiting for more cryptic advice from Ozzy; he was an old head, and clearly set in his methods. It made the most sense to me that I should be reporting straight to Blue. He was the damn president of the club, and he was the one who’d brought me on. He was the one who’d sanctioned my ink, without me going through whatever their usual process was.
But, with him handling business over the last few days, it had been troublesome getting in front of him.
I was patient, though.
Mostly, things were going as I’d anticipated. I’d gotten their attention and had already been invited into the fold. So far, the only kink in my plans was the mistrust from Tatiana, which I hadn’t really accounted for.
I’d expected Blue to be the one with the trust issues, not her.
Not that it really mattered.
Her faith – or lack thereof – didn’t really factor into my plans.
This shit wasn’t about her.
Wasn’tsupposedto be, at least.
For unknown reasons, her skepticism actually…botheredme.
Had I lost my touch?
The fall ofThe Gardenhad meant the end of any missions, no continued trainings, but damn… was she not buying into my role?
Or was it that for the first time… I wasn’t really playing a role at all?
There was no dossier to hide behind, no alias to get lost in, I was just… a nobody, at least by their standards. Some lonely outsider seeking a place in the world to belong. A drifter searching for a motive to stick around.
I was all of those things.
But also, none of them.
I’d gladly fulfill my personal mission and move on, with no thoughts of these people in my rear view.
That was the objective when this place had first landed in my sights.
When I’d closed my eyes last night though, my thoughts had been less about the release I’d feel when my objective was complete, and more about the angry vice president of thePredators.
She sure was comfortable with that damn gun.
