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“Because I don’t trust you to keep a level head,” Montana flatly stated, glaring at me before turning to the board. “Bane, medically how is she?”
The doctor of the club, August ‘Bane’ Lansing, grew up with Montana. As one of Montana’s best friends, they did everything together until Montana chose to save his own brother, leaving Bane’s sister to die in a frozen river. Since then, Bane still did what the club required of him, but never forgave Montana for that one decision. When Bane’s sister, Amy, finally passed away last year, Montana didn’t give Bane the option. Prez locked his friend down, confining him to the club and work only. The good doctor was still frosty towards Montana, but he did his job well.
“Other than being malnourished, scared to death, and worn out, Largo’s fine. I couldn’t find anything wrong with her. She’s got some scrapes and old bruises, but physically she’s fine.”
“So, no medical issues we need to be concerned about?”
“None that I can see. I’m still waiting for the blood work and Tessa still needs to do the gynecologic testing, but I don’t think anything will show up.”
Sitting up, I demanded, “Why does Tess need to do that?”
“Because she’s been gone for three fucking years, Mercy. You know the damn drill. Regardless of her true identity, Largo Finn will undergo the same comprehensive assessment as anyone else connected to this board. I don’t give a fuck what you say. It’s happening, so get with the fucking program.”
“She is my wife!”
“Ex-wife!” Montana roared. “You seem to keep forgetting that pertinent fact. That bitch divorced your ass three fucking years ago. Do I need to have Fury pull the fucking papers so you can read over them again?”
“Call my wife a bitch one more time and you won’t like what happens next,” I sneered angrily.
Motherfucker was starting to piss me the fuck off, and if he knew what was good for him, he’d stop while he was ahead.
Montana’s temper may be legendary, but it is nothing compared to the explosive nature of mine. The level of fury that I contained and controlled was unmatched by even Malice.
I wasn’t like Montana. I didn’t grow up with a fucking silver spoon in my mouth. I grew up in the Bronx. I didn’t have a fancy education. Like most kids, I attended public school, where it was dog-eat-dog and only the strong survived. My parents didn’t give me a custom ride when I got my driver’s license. Fuck no, I was too busy boosting my rides for a little fun. My parents didn’t pay for my college education. I had to work two jobs while helping my father support my mom and sisters.
Life never came easy for me.
Everything I had, I fought tooth and nail for and that included my wife, Largo. If this spoiled fuck thought he could order me around where my wife was concerned, he had another thing coming.
“Mercy,” George Stone muttered, leaning forward in his chair. “You know I love Largo. Consider her my blood. Give you my word, son. I will be as gentle as I can.”
The Rejects next to him nodded in agreement.
Before I could utter another word, Montana added, “Until Storm verifies her identity, Largo Finn, or whatever her name is, will remain locked down in this club. She is fucking grounded.”
I smirked at that.
“You find this fucking funny, asshole?”
I shook my head. “No. No, I don’t, but you know Largo better than anyone else in this room besides me. You honestly think these fucking walls will contain her?”
“I do know her and that’s why I’m containing her in the mailroom.”
“Oh fuck,” I distinctly heard George Stone curse right before I jumped from my seat, punching Montana square in the jaw. If that motherfucker thought for one second, I was going to let him treat my wife like some fucking common criminal he had another thing coming. However, before the angry bastard could hit me back, the Rejects moved fast to contain him, and he spewed his venom.
“You fucking hit me!” the irate bastard bellowed, trying to break his father’s hold. “I’m the motherfucking president of this club. You do as I fucking say!”
“No.”
“What the fuck do you mean, no?! I just gave you an order, Mercy.”
“I will not put my wife in the mailroom.”
“SHE’S NOT YOUR WIFE!” Montana roared loudly.
And that was the crux of the matter.
She wasn’t my wife.
