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“She’s your wife,” he says. “I’d expect nothing less.”
She’s your wife.
For almost every other person recently married, you’d think there would be a plan in place. There would’ve been conversations about the future and what each person is expecting from their partner as well as goals.
Beth and I have none of that. It should be scary and nerve-racking, but it isn’t. It feels like the beginning of an adventure, the thrill of the unknown making my pulse speed up.
“As you might’ve guessed, I had Max run a check on her.”
My jaw flexes with his statement. I understand the reasoning behind it. Her coming to the clubhouse is a big deal. Kincaid’s very protective of his family and he has grandkids that live right across the street and have access to the clubhouse. Others have children as well. I wouldn’t want anyone else to show up that hadn’t been checked, so I don’t know why it bothers me that he dug into her life.
“I understand,” I tell him, my voice flat, although I’m trying not to sound annoyed. The man is my boss, and it’s his clubhouse after all.
“She has no criminal offenses, but she does have a history of erratic behavior.”
Silence fills the line between us.
I don’t know what he expects me to say.
“I don’t feel like she’s a threat to anyone, however,” he continues. “I will ask that you keep an eye on her though.”
“I will,” I promise.
The call ends, and I feel a little guilty for not telling him exactly what the plan is. Beth is worried about being embarrassed in front of the people in Lindell who she’s known all her life. I don’t want that discomfort to extend to Farmington as well.
We’ll have a little fun, play house for a while, and then when we grow bored with all of it, we’ll head to the courthouse and get a divorce. She can find a little house in town, or if she wants to move elsewhere, I can help her get situated. If leaving Lindell and never looking back is her goal, then that’s something I can easily help her with.
I shove my phone in the back pocket of my jeans, stepping back inside the house. I make sure to lock her front door because despite what Max told me last night, I still think her landlord is a freaking creep.
“That was my boss on the phone,” I explain as I join her back in the bedroom.
She’s out of the bed, dressed in a loose t-shirt and another pair of blue denim shorts, and I take a deep breath, in an effort to shove down the disappointment. We aren’t heading out of town for a couple hours yet, and, honestly, I was hoping to find her still in the bed, naked and waiting.
“Do you work twenty-four-seven?” she asks as she shuffles some clothes in her dresser.
“No, but he needed to speak with me about my status change.”
She turns to face me. “He has an opinion about us getting married?”
She swallows as she watches me, and I can tell the woman is already getting pre-mad. It should probably be a red flag, and my first instinct should probably be to call this whole thing off, but it’s sort of cute the way her eyes narrow as she waits for my response.
“I realize we just met. I also realize that you have no working knowledge of how Cerberus works. Although I won’t go into details about the business side of things, let me explain the clubhouse.”
She takes my hand when I offer one to her. Despite the annoyed look on her face a second ago, she easily conforms to my body when I pull her to my chest and angle her face up so I can look into her eyes.
“Cerberus property is like a little village. There are many houses circling the clubhouse. The partnered folks, those who are married or are planning a life with their soulmate—” I do my best not to make a sour face with the last word, but, honestly, do they even exist? “Those people live in the houses.”
“How many houses?”
“Over twenty I guess. I’ve never sat down and calculated it out. There are some that are under construction. Kincaid is running out of room and land, but that’s not the point. I live in the clubhouse. There’s a massive living room where a lot of events and gatherings are held. There are two hallways with rooms. There’s a nursery for the kids and additional space for those old enough for school.”
“The kids don’t go to public school?”
I shake my head. “It’s too dangerous for them.”
“Public school isn’t dangerous.”
“Do you watch the news?” I ask, doing my best not to sound defensive. “Just the risk of violence alone is too high. Add in the fact that they’re connected to the club and that greatly increases those kids’ risks of being a target of violence.”
