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After they voted Dornan in, it was time to decide on a new VP. Not surprisingly, almost half the men voted for John. Perhaps that was their way of trying to make amends for essentially betraying their president by overthrowing him and installing a madman as leader. But despite the votes, one person got more – Dornan’s oldest son Chad, who was possibly the least intelligent person John had ever encountered. Jacked up on a daily cocktail of roids and speed, Chad was a surprising choice.
It just showed how far things had gone.
It was only when Dornan was passing his VP patch to Chad that John realised he needed to give his patches to Dornan. He’d lived in this jacket for years, ever since the last one had been shredded by knife slashes when he’d been in a fight with a rival cartel member. The patches were originals, having survived the past several decades unmarred. Stained with engine oil and probably blood, but always with him.
John slid off his jacket, realising for the first time how heavy the thick leather was. The thing weighed a ton. No wonder his shoulders always felt like they bore the weight of the world on them. Was this how it felt to be free? To be a normal person? Just a thin shirt on your back, no traces of a club patch that acted as a homing beacon for violence?
John turned the jacket over, but before he started to tug at the thread holding the club insignia to the beat-up leather, he stopped. He held the jacket out to Dornan, who didn’t move.
‘I’m not taking your jacket, John,’ he said, and for a moment John could have sworn he saw shame flicker in Dornan’s eyes.
Undeterred, John dropped the jacket onto the table in front of Dornan. ‘I want you to have it,’ he said, stepping back. ‘I’ll get a new one.’ I’ll trade you my fucking jacket for your wife.
Dornan regarded him gravely. ‘We gonna have trouble, brother?’
John smiled, reaching out and slapping Dornan on the shoulder. ‘No trouble, brother. My loyalty is to the club, whether I’m president or not.’
An awkward silence fell over the room. John let his eyes roam around once more, and then he turned and left the only friends he’d ever known.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
MARIANA
‘Are you okay?’ I asked Jason.
He nodded, looking jumpy as always. His eyes travelled around the large sitting room that had been dressed up and filled with party guests. I opened my mouth to ask him why he had a black eye and a cut on his lip when I felt a cold hand on the back of my neck. I jumped, expecting to see Dornan. Instead, when I turned around Emilio stared back at me with his beady black eyes, bringing one hand to my cheek.
‘You look so pretty, Mariana,’ he said, using a single finger to pull my scarf down enough to expose the bruises on my throat. The sight of them made him smile, a grotesque expression that made him look like he was about to eat me.
‘Thank you,’ I replied, swallowing my discomfort as best I could.
‘It looks like my son got a little excited,’ he said, dropping his eyes to my throat again. ‘He gets that from me, you know.’
‘I can only imagine,’ I said.
‘You ever pull a stunt like that again,’ he said quietly, tucking a stray hair behind my ear, ‘and I’ll take you down to Budget Funerals and put you in the oven myself. Alive. Do you understand?’
Budget Funerals. He’d mentioned the place by name. Had it been on the box of ashes that I’d dumped on his desk? I couldn’t remember. The hairs on the back of my neck started to prickle uncomfortably as my heart raced to a gallop.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that Jason and Juliette were taking this entire conversation in, their eyes like saucers, their mouths slack with shock. I moved ever so slightly, making sure they weren’t in Emilio’s line of sight, and nodded. ‘I understand.’
‘Nobody is irreplaceable, darling,’ he said with a grin. He still had his hand on the side of my head, just above my ear. I wanted him to stop touching me, but what was I going to do? I was in a room full of his family and his people. He could literally have murdered me where I stood and nobody would have dared to stop him. Well, except John, but he was MIA, along with Dornan and half the Gypsy Brothers.
‘You might think you’ve got power now that you’re married to my son, but he’s been married before. You replaced Celia. I won’t have a problem finding somebody to replace you.’
I nodded, trying to stay outwardly calm. I wanted to lean over and throw up all over Emilio’s expensive Italian loafers, but he’d probably make me lick them clean as punishment. Instead I stood there, frozen, until a warm hand snaked around my waist and squeezed. Jase flinched as he made eye contact with whoever it was hugging me to their side.
I smelled John, but that couldn’t be right. I whipped my head to the left, confused. Dornan was beside me, but he was wearing John’s jacket. My heart rate rose to fever pitch as I stepped back, almost ending up in Juliette’s lap as I tried to understand what was going on.
‘What are you wearing?’ I asked Dornan, frowning in confusion as I re-read the patch above his heart that clearly said PRESIDENT. ‘Why are you wearing John’s jacket?’ Did you kill John? I mean, why else would he have his jacket?
Dornan grinned. ‘We just voted. You’re looking at the new president of the Gypsy Brothers.’
I opened my mouth to ask where John was, but then I saw him in the corner, talking to Viper but casting glances our way. He was okay. He was not the president anymore, but he was okay. Thank God.
I looked back to Jason, and my heart broke. He’d flinched when he saw his father, I realised. He was that terrified of Dornan that he couldn’t even be near him. I heard Lindsay’s words replay in my mind. Soon. I’d get away sooner. Me and John and Juliette and Jason. I would insist, and John would do it because he loved me. Because it was the right thing to do.
I heard the sound of cutlery clinking on glass. Emilio had disappeared, making his way to the centre of the large room.
