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I nodded, accepting his words as the warning and reminder they were meant to be. “If they find out.”
“When they find out, Charlie. Because they will. The Jacks made a shit ton of money off her.” He shook his head in disgust as he pulled out his lighter and sparked a joint instead of a cigarette. “You know how many people lined up and paid damn good money to sully Ronan Rhymer’s precious little princess? Plenty.”
I blinked at his words. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what she’d been through, but to hear it laid out like that was disgusting. And terrifying for her. “How do you know?”
Jasper shrugged. “Chatter. Word’s gotten out she escaped. The Jacks are on a rampage looking for her, reaching out to every Rhymer enemy in the area. Reckless Bastards can’t be too far down on that list.”
“Thanks for the heads up.”
Jasper stared at me for a long time and then ducked his head so no one would overhear. “I’m willing to take her off your hands if you want.”
“I’ll let you know.” My life would be a fuck of a lot easier if I just gave Savannah over to Jasper and let the Ashby family handle her. I couldn’t though, and I didn’t know why.
“Suit yourself.” He clapped me on the back and made his way toward the bar where Maureen sat on a stool, laughing it up with the bartender.
The hours went on and the reception kept going because no matter what Virgil and the Ashby’s thought was going to happen, bikers knew how to start a party, but they didn’t know how to end a party.
Cross, Gunnar, Max and Holden sat with Cruz and Stitch, drinking and playing cards at a table near the back.
Vivi and Peaches, on the other hand, shook their booties on the dance floor like they were still twenty-year-old hackers. Mom, Moon, and Aunt Teddy sat with Golden Boy and the doctor chick from Texas, Annabelle, probably talking about chakras or menopause.
Everyone was having a good time and suddenly, I understood why Cross had kept himself at a distance, just a little, for so many years. It was a heavy burden to know you were responsible for so many lives. Moments like these, when everyone was happy and having a good time, made you think of keeping them this way. Forever.
After too many drinks to count, I took one of the wedding shuttles back to Mayhem and fell into my bed, into a deep sleep.
I’d get my bike tomorrow.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Savannah
This was bullshit. Complete and total bullshit. I didn’t know exactly how much time had passed since Charlie dropped me off at this fucking clubhouse, but the sun was rising on another goddamn day, so it was longer than it took a person to get married and celebrate.
The sonofabitch forgot about me. Totally. Fucking. Forgot.
Motherfucker left me here, sick and hurting, just to get ambushed by the club fuck holes. They were probably no better than the bitches who hung out with the Black Jacks. Fuck.
I knew nothing about Charlie personally. He could be a goddamn pimp for all I knew. And me, Miss Stupid Savannah, got on the back of that bike faster than a whore could drop her fucking drawers.
“FUCK!” How could I be so stupid?
Yeah, that made me really mad. I tore into a pack of cigarettes and lit one up.
I paced the floor, smoking that cigarette like it would give me answers. The cold sweats and stomach cramps kept me from eating anything, so I just walked around the room like the dumb shit I was.
I stomped, paced and smoked. Lighting another one off of the butt of the previous one. The irritability, the shits, and the muscle cramps all hit at once, and I ran to the restroom and plopped down on the toilet.
My stomach was cramping so badly that I wanted to die. I sat on that cold seat and cried. And sobbed. And then I cried and sobbed some more.
I didn’t know how long I sat there, but I felt better. Not perfect, but better than I had in days. So what if Charlie forgot me? I’d been through worse. And I’d get through this.
There were sandwiches and soda in the small fridge. If I could bring myself to get some sustenance in my body, I could get away from this place too.
Free from Ronan, the Crusaders, the Black Jacks, and my former life.
And free from fucking forget-me-like-yesterday’s-trash, Charlie.
I yanked open the small fridge and pulled out a sandwich, tearing it out of the package. Ham and cheese. It would do.
I took a small bite and then another without gagging. It hit me how famished I was. I slid down the door and sat on the floor, finishing off my sandwich and sipping on a bottle of cheap whiskey Charlie had on the nightstand.
