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Lorenzo was obsessed with her. No doubt. But Pops was referring to something much more sinister. He solemnly shook his head. “Precious, those who’ve witnessed the crimes of my club are either deeply part of the Stallions or goin’ to ground anyways.” Legend cautioned, “Elle… you’re not just Lorenzo’s infatuation. He’s also coming for ya because… you’re a threat.”
This awareness was chilling. And we hadn’t even touched on the possibility that she technically was kin to an Irish MC.
I expected Elle to be shocked and afraid, but she instead calmly asked, “What does this have to do with magazines?”
Pops continued, “Were your clothes or belongings in his closet or dressers?”
Her brows bunched as her head tilted. “All my items were kept in a locked closet.”
Pops lifted a brow at me. “Son, in your room, where will your Old Lady’s shit go?”
Determined, I answered truthfully, “Wherever the fuck she wants it to go.”
His grey eyes challenged her. “And there it is.”
She blinked in confusion. “What is?”
He asked her, “Could your belongings be strung about as you pleased?”
The word ‘strung’ made me think of her telling me how Lorenzo strung her.
As if the mere suggestion was absurd, Elle’s little nose scrunched. “Legend, I wasn’t permitted to walk from one room to another without guards. I wasn’t a guest. I was tied up or locked up.” Her frustration was building. “Even when I was wearing clothing and shoes that cost more than this truck and trailer.” She growled, “As if those items could make up for years of past suffering and future rapes.”
Dagger rolled down his window. “Fresh air can be a wonderful thing.”
We all stared at him…
He shrugged. “What? It’s getting a little intense in here.”
Again, her shoulders caved. “I’m sorry. One minute I want to cry again and the next I want Lorenzo’s head in a pit of fire.” Her hands gripping the magazines, she inhaled deeply. “Legend, to answer your question, no. I was not to leave any belongings strung about. He likes things neat and tidy.”
I thought of her throwing her clothes away before storming out of the room the morning after surgery.
“Tidy.” Pops rolled his eyes. “How convenient.”
Thinking now wasn’t the time to push Elle’s buttons, I intervened, “Meaning?”
“Isn’t it odd that there was to be no trail of Elle on the boat for the past nine years?”
I was still struggling to understand. “Pops, I see smoke comin’ out of them ears.”
“That’s because I’m figuring out the puzzle. Think about it. Old Ladies don’t live at the club. Elle will be the first.” When none of us said anything, Pops added, “Do I need to spell it out for you?”
Dagger shook his head but stopped when he saw the rest of us utterly bewildered. “Oh.” He told his Prez, “Yes, do explain.”
I guess Pops wanted us to use our brains because he was back to asking questions. “Why no Old Ladies at our parties? Who would be in that yacht bedroom that he didn’t want to see Elle?”
I hissed, “A fucking wife.”
Pops nodded. “I’d bet a diamond on it.” Which was saying a lot, since we took those stones very seriously.
“What?” Elle was flabbergasted. “How? He was forcing me to marry him.”
A scarred finger lifted into the air. “Forcing you to marry Lorenzo Marchetti.”
Vice hit the steering wheel. “Holy shit! You think he’s got another name?”
Excited to be figuring this out, our President leaned forward in his seat. “The way he sent those goons to interrupt our breakfast? This bastard is cocky as fuck. That kind of ego can get a man in some deep shit. I bet he’s literally living two lives.”
