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Grabbing my keys, I headed back into town.
Chapter Four
King
The sun had finally set, and the moon had risen as night took over the mountains. Thousands of stars shined brightly overhead as a crisp cool air blew around me. Any reason to ride my bike was a good reason, even if I had no intention of apologizing to the bitch who owned the tattoo shop. I was heading back into town for one thing only. I wanted to gather as much information as I could about the woman. I needed to know what I was dealing with and what trouble she was in. I didn’t doubt Dog and refused to ignore his plea for help, but before I set my club on whatever was threatening this bitch, I needed to know what the score was.
As it was right now, I was ready to wash my hands of the woman. She was trouble with a capitol ‘T’, and I wanted no part of it. My club already had enough shit to deal with. We were still recovering from the last special project we took on.
Fuck. I shouldn’t have thought about that.
Now she was in my head again.
The one woman I could never have.
The perfect, unattainable woman.
The only reason she was alive today was because me and my boys showed up right before some mafia fucker named Bianchi had a hit on her. As it was, that fucker destroyed her dad’s house, a former Colonel I once served under. Though we got her and her daughter to safety, Bianchi got his hands on her, which still bothered me in ways it shouldn’t. In the end, she walked away unharmed with her fucking attorney husband, and was probably popping out more babies.
That Italian motherfucker didn’t deserve her, and I said as much before he took her and his kid and left. There was no love lost between me and Antonio Valentinetti.
Motherfucker didn’t know how lucky he was.
The only reason I didn’t kill the bastard was because I felt guilty for killing his father. Yeah, that wasn’t one of my better moments. But making sure that motherfucker who hired me for the hit was dead and buried made up for some of the guilt I had. Still wished it was me that put a bullet in Bianchi’s head, but dead was dead.
My life wasn’t always about club loyalty.
There was a time when I lived outside the club and, for a brief minute, I thought about never returning. That was until I got word that my father had died. That’s when everything changed for me. I knew I couldn’t leave my brothers and club without some leadership. When I arrived home to take over, no one stopped me. The second I put on the Sons of Hell cut on my back, my old life was gone. Though the memories of those days still haunted me like when the Colonel called and asked for a favor.
I wasn’t able to bring back Valentinetti’s father, but I could protect his wife and kid. And though I wasn’t proud of what I did, I manned up and came clean with the Italian fucker. Thought for sure the attorney was going to put a bullet in my head when he found out. He had every right, but he was a better man than I was. Which was a hard pill to swallow. In the end, the right man got the girl and there was nothing I could do about it.
Pulling into town, I wasn’t surprised to find it mostly empty. Minus a few shops that stayed open late to cater to the teens and young adults who wanted a little fun before turning in for the night. The town was relatively dead. Now that school was out, the teens would run ramped looking for any fun or stupid thing they could get into. I never denied a kid from having fun, but I expected them to own it when shit went sideways. As a teen once, I knew shit always went downhill at least once.
Parking my bike in the alley behind the tattoo shop, I looked up and grinned just as a curtain fell back in place.
Good. She knew I was here.
Getting off my bike, I headed up the stairs that led to her apartment. Like most of the buildings in Rosewood, these old buildings had apartments over them, so the owners could live close to their livelihood.
I didn’t bother knocking as the door was flung open.
I blinked and took a step back as I found myself looking down the holes of a double-barreled shotgun pointed directly at me. Seeing the angry look on her face, I was damn certain she loaded it, too. My mom always warned me this would happen to me someday. Just never thought she was telling me the truth.
“Put the gun down,” I growled.
“Why should I?”
“Put the fucking gun down.”
The second the gun moved a smidge, I grabbed the barrel, yanking it from her hands. Pushing her back into her apartment with my other hand, I kicked her door close. “Woman, you have a lot of fucking nerve pulling a gun on me,” I said, throwing the shotgun on the couch next to her. Looking about the small apartment, I noticed she had sparsely decorated her place. The place was small and desperately needed an update. Hell, I could see wires hanging from the damn ceiling. There was no kitchen to speak of and the only furniture in the apartment was the old, outdated couch that had seen better days.
This was not the home of a high priced, creative artist whose designs were in high demand. I read everything I could about the woman. She was making bank. I knew she was. She could afford to live in luxury, not squalor.
I was missing something.
“Please leave,” she whispered, taking several step backs until her back was against the peeling and dilapidated wall. Facing her, I saw complete unadulterated fear in her silver eyes. “I’ve kept quiet. I swear.”
She feared me.
