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Before the woman could say another word, Malice moved fast, slapping the gun out of her hand, before grabbing her and throwing her up against the car. “Wrong move, bitch,” Malice growled as he held her firmly in place. The woman struggled, trying to break free when security rushed out of the Stone Building along with the Retirement Rejects.
“Problems?” Popeye asked, looking me over from head to toe.
“Bitch pulled a gun on Largo,” Malice said roughly. He struggled to hold the irate woman, who was now screaming bloody murder and acting a fool.
“Well, that was a stupid move,” Snoopy chuckled. “Who is the girl?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Malice bit out, handing her over to Snoopy. “Take the bitch to the clubhouse. I’ll meet you there after I get Largo settled.”
Snoopy nodded and he forcefully escorted the fighting woman away.
“Virginia’s waiting for you,” Popeye said. “Best get inside.”
Once inside the building, Virginia gathered me in her arms, giving me a hug. “Who was that woman? Are you alright? We can reschedule this meeting. It’s no big deal.”
“Ha,” Popeye chuckled. “Wait till I tell George that you said the Stone Trust Gala was no big deal. Bossman might have something to say about that.”
“Shut up, Steven,” Virginia groaned, shaking her head.
“Hey!” Popeye scoffed suspiciously, looking around the lobby of the Stone Building before opening his suit jacket and pointing to his leather cut, whispering, “Look what I’m wearing, woman? I’m on official business for the club.”
“No, you are trying to instigate a fight between me and George, and I don’t give a damn what you are wearing, Steven. Don’t you ever take that damn thing off?”
The big man frowned, then muttered, “No.”
Refusing to listen to Virginia and Popeye play out their monthly diatribe of club solidarity, I turned to Malice. “Who was that woman and why did she say she was married to my brother?”
“Club business.”
“Don’t give me the company line, Malice. Landon was mine. My brother. I have a right to know.”
“Not this,” the stubborn man clipped, refusing to say anything more.
Looking up at the eternally angry man, I growled, “We’ll see about that.”
Chapter Twenty
Mercy
“And how did that make you feel?”
Sitting in the plush office of one of the city’s top psychologists, I tried to ignore the man sitting before me. When Montana ordered me to seek counseling for my anger issues, I thought he meant maybe a few visits to some second-rate hack who didn’t know me. Someone I could convince that I was fine and who’d cut me loose after a few sessions.
Instead, for the last two months, I’ve been sitting in front of a man who knew me all too well. A man I’ve fought next to, a man whose loyalty to the club was beyond reproach. A man I couldn’t hide from.
He saw everything.
Knew everything.
Was there for everything.
“You know fighting this will do you no good. Montana was clear on what he expected. Why not just give in and talk?”
“Because it’s my private life. It’s none of his business.”
“When your private life interferes with club business, it ceases to be private, Mercy. You, of all people, should know that. Stop fighting me and talk.”
“Got nothing to say, Torment.”
