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Demon called a short time ago. He’s on his way over to the clubhouse. He’s never been a man of many words, but when he does speak, we listen. Demon doesn’t talk much about his past and has set his eyes on the future. He was a young up-and-coming rock star when he and his best friend fell into the drug scene. Dean died, but in a way, Demon died that day too. He was so far gone that only the magic of Guard could bring him back to the real world. And that he did. As Demon says, he was existing, not living, until he met Sofia, his brilliant lawyer wife, who’s tough as nails in the courtroom and sweet as honey with Demon. Talk about opposites attracting: a tattooed and pierced biker man and a proper and elegant princess, yet they make it seem easy. They’ve had their fair share of trouble, but that’s over now, with a little help from the Pride brothers.
“Yo,” Demon says in a low voice as he crosses the room to Orion and me. “Guard here?”
“Office,” I tell him.
“He should be here for this,” he replies.
“I’ll get him,” Orion says, and takes off down the hall. I study Demon’s expression. Can’t say that he’s upset, but obviously, whatever he’s got to say must be important if he wants to call Guard in at the start.
Guard doesn’t keep us waiting and enters the room with Risk, Ghost, Priest, and Orion. He takes one took at Demon and reads him like he does the rest of us.
“Shit,” he says, shaking his head. I’m completely at a loss, as are the rest of the guys, as we glance from one man to the other.
I’m losing my patience. “Someone want to tell me what the fuck is going on?”
“He’s dead, Wildcard,” Demon declares. “Paul Venti’s dead. His body’s at the morgue. No one’s claimed it. We need to have Charlotte identify the body to be sure, but it’s him.”
“What? How?” I ask, confused.
“Can’t get ahold of the coroner’s report. Body seems intact, so my bet is a drug overdose, maybe heart attack,” he responds.
“Not likely,” Guard replies, stepping forward. He turns to Risk. “You think one of the guys he owes money to killed him?”
“Dead men can’t pay,” Risk responds. He’s not wrong. With the debt he was carrying, he was worth more alive so they could try to recoup their losses.
“Dead men can’t talk either,” Ghost says.
“I don’t know whether to be relieved or not,” I say.
“Sorry, man, but I’d go with not. If they’d readily get rid of Paul with that kind of money to pay back, then there’s more to this than debts owed,” Priest says. Priest and I are as close as real brothers, and he’s the kind of guy who views a situation from every possible angle before stating his opinion. He reviews every vantage point, mainly because he doesn’t like making mistakes. He’s made plenty in the past and swears he won’t repeat the pattern.
I’m inclined to agree, but hope like hell that this is the end of Charli’s nightmare.
“Charlotte and Noah have to be told,” Guard says.
“Can we give her one normal day before we spring this on her? Noah too?” I ask. Guard shakes his head, but before he speaks, I add, “One day. Swear to God, tomorrow’s her day off, and right after we have breakfast, I’ll bring her here and we’ll tell them both at the same time. Then we’ll head over to claim the body.”
* * *
Our plansfor the day have changed. With Paul in the morgue, our new mission is to make a statement that Charlotte and Noah are under Satan’s Pride’s protection and debts made by their father are not owed by his kin. Risk has a big part to play in that plan, through Reno, of course. Risk never wanted to be part of the Mafia, and after having reconnected Reno with his brothers, his meetings with Reno, Sebastian, and Dante are in secret and very infrequent. Mainly, they make phone calls through burner phones and secured lines.
At one time, Risk was all about what his name reflects, taking chances when he shouldn’t have. It got so bad that Orion had to separate himself for a short time, but as brothers of the soul, Risk always knew he could call on him if he needed to. Risk was reckless and didn’t give a shit if he lived or died. Not sure what pulled him through. He’s never told me, but now that he has Hanna and his son, Romeo, there’s no way he’ll put their lives in danger.
We live clean until someone fucks with one of our own. Guard started this club using a legit business plan. He started businesses, and the Pride has backed the brothers in starting their own means of making a living. Saint’s clinic is a prime example of how we help our own. Today, we’re solid, and from day one, we stand proud.
However, as we’ve proven in the past, you don’t fuck with the Pride. Many have tried and failed. And many have tried and died. There are very few exceptions to the rule where death is the final blow. Mariano and Iano are two, simply because you could see right through to their core that they weren’t made for the life they were in. Noah was another. To save his sister from suffering at the hands of the gang he was lured into, he wanted us to end him. Not only did the leader of this gang have it out for Roscoe and Willow, but he also had no problem screwing over one of his own.
It’s close to the end of Charlotte’s shift. Priest and Roscoe have been watching over the diner, while Thunder heads over to the school for Noah. I want to be the one to take Charlotte home. When I pull up to the diner, Charlotte’s just stepping outside, the sun creating a halo of light around her. Her smile beams across the lot, and that’s when it hits me. She’s my one. We’re new, we’re young, yet I have a need to keep her with me always. The day gets better when she’s nearby.
As she walks across the lot to meet me, giving me a little wave, Priest gives me a chin lift and says his goodbyes before he takes off for the community center, where he’ll volunteer for the night. A prickly feeling on the back of my neck makes me take note of a deep-blue vintage Firebird. Normally, it wouldn’t mean anything, but as it starts to drive by, the window rolls down and an arm comes out with a gun in hand.
Immediately, I push Priest to the ground and scream to Charlotte, “Run!”
Charlotte turns and sees what I see, and in her panic begins to run toward me. A series of shots go off, and she drops to the ground, sprawled across the pavement. Priest returns fire. I leap forward toward my girl, who’s crying out in pain, scrambling to get back up, but she can’t manage on her own. I scoop her up in my arms. Her legs are covered in blood. I see panic in her glassy eyes. Shock is setting in. This is getting dire. I duck behind a car and find Priest by my side.
“They took off,” he says, slamming his fist on the hood of the car.
“She’s hit. Get Saint,” I yell.
