Chapter 15

CHAPTER

FIFTEEN

CLINK

“Nash?” I call out as the man on the other end of the phone greets me.

“What’s up, Clink?”

He sounds so damn nonchalant, and I do not get it. He is always so fucking cool, calm, and collected. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him anxious or even pissed off. I mean, he’s been mad, but seeing-red angry? Never seen it.

This is a guy who has been the president of the original chapter and is now the president of the old man’s club but couldn’t just enjoy retirement. He had to fucking go and open up a high-end strip club.

“We need your help,” I confess.

Atomic put me in charge of calling some of the other clubs to organize reinforcements. It’s busywork. I know it is. He could rally the troops in a single group text message, but he wants me to keep from climbing the walls, and I don’t blame him.

I’m on fucking edge, to say the goddamn least. I’m ready to go hunting, stitched-up side and all. Because I’ll be fucking damned if I’m going to be made to not only feel but look like a weak and stupid asshole again.

But as I attempt to stretch, a grunt rumbles from my chest. I’m sore as fuck, my wound being too goddamn painful to do much else besides make these phone calls. I have to know my limits, and right now, I’m conserving my energy because the time will come when I will be taking care of shit.

It’s now beyond Vixen being held hostage. It’s about my pride. And I’m prideful as fuck. They knew what they were doing and what they were initiating when they did what they did to us. They also knew that we were officers of the MC.

King’s voice is in the background. He’s calling his woman and talking to her and the kids. Then he’s calling our clubhouse to talk to the brothers there and update them on what happened. He’s getting tabs on everyone to see what else these assholes had in motion without us knowing.

Again, busy fucking work. But it keeps us from sitting around being pissed the fuck off that we were fucking stabbed and are stuck in this goddamn hotel room, unable to go home. Keeps us from completely losing our shit.

“Gonna need more than that, Clink,” Nash murmurs.

I laugh, although there is zero humor inside of me. “We got some serious shit going down…” I begin. Then I tell him the story. And when I’m finished, and he’s heard that his kid has been stabbed, I hear a growl crawl up his throat.

“Elvis has been stabbed?” he barks.

Flicking my gaze over to King, I’m surprised that he called him by his given name. I can’t even remember if I’ve ever heard Atomic call King that before. I stare at King for a moment, then clear my throat.

“He was stabbed, but he’s already out of the hospital. Atomic is in still. He’s supposed to be released tomorrow sometime, and hopefully, we’ll be home in a few days.”

“What the fuck do you need?” he says, but I can tell he’s got his teeth gnashed together. His words come out strained and as if he’s grinding his teeth. I don’t blame him. Even though he’s in his forties, King is still his kid.

“They won’t get away with this,” I state. “But we need you to do an extraction.”

“Extraction?” he asks, his voice rising slightly.

I can tell he’s intrigued, and honestly, I would rather do that than sit here healing and feeling like absolute dog shit. Not just feeling like shit but feeling like a pile of useless shit, too.

“We got a girl. Vixen’s sister. Need her taken from the Southern Mafia trade before she’s dropped off and sold.”

There is a moment of silence. “And you can’t do it?” he asks, knowing that we do the transporting of these women.

Taking them to their brokers.

Their sellers.

Because that’s what they’re doing—they’re selling their bodies into a lifetime of sexual servitude. It’s not something I agree with, but they claim that all the women know what they’re getting into and that they have agreed to the terms.

“We were planning on it. But then this shit went down with Vixen, with being stabbed, with the Demon Guns initiating war. We have too much on our plates.”

Nash chuckles. “All at once or nothing at all, right?”

“Exactly. Can you keep her there, away from us, to keep the heat off us? We already asked if we could take her as our allotted one-woman deal, and they said she wasn’t an option.”

More silence follows. I’m sure as fuck certain he’s going to tell me to fuck off, and I’ll have to think of a different plan to put in place. But I have nothing, not a goddamn thing, as a backup. This is all I have right now.

“I’ll do it, but she works for me. Nothing’s for free in this life.”

“She works for you. Vixen will be good with it.”

He laughs, snorting before he continues. “She’ll have to be. Don’t have much of a choice. But she won’t be sold to the highest bidder, and Vixen can see and talk to her any time she wants.”

“Then I’m good with it. She will be, too. When shit cools off here, we’ll discuss the future.”

“Got my own place in Corpus. She can stay there. I’ll be with her. Keep her safe.”

I almost ask him why he doesn’t live at the clubhouse, but I decide against it. I’m too exhausted to give much of a fuck about anything right now. My eyelids grow heavy, and the pain in my side is a little too much.

I promise to text Nash with the rest of the information on when and where to pick up his new package. I also agree to tell King to call him and check in. But I don’t tell King. When I end the call, I lie down and the moment I close my eyes, the darkness consumes me, and I pass out.

It’s not sleep.

I pass out.

DILLION

The Demon Gun–vest-wearing asshole leaves me alone, but it doesn’t matter. I’m not alone. My thoughts fill whatever quietness and void are in this room. They are running through my head as if they are on a treadmill’s never-ending cycle.

What do I do with the information he’s given me?

What can I do?

The short answer is absolutely nothing. I can do absolutely nothing. I’m literally tied down with no way to help myself out of this situation. And the idea that this man I’ve fallen for so quickly is not only my secret lover but also was involved with my brother and owns me sends my mind reeling.

Well, he thinks he owns me, but I don’t accept that. Not in the slightest. Nobody owns me anymore. I walked away from that life, which means I walked away from every aspect of it, including being used as any kind of bargaining chip.

It seems as though I can’t get away from it, though. That fucking family owned me. Which is why I never want that again. They owned every goddamn part of me, and I hated it. I hated everything about it.

I just want to run.

I want to get out of here and disappear.

I should have left when I had the urge. My gut was telling me to, and I didn’t listen because my vagina was screaming louder. I close my eyes and a single tear slides down my temple. It’s all the moisture I have left inside of my body. I’m thirsty, hungry, and tired.

So damn tired.

My body gives out, and my eyes close.

I pass out.

What feels like just seconds later, I’m awoken again. I’m not sure why immediately, and I try to lift my arms and sit up again, forgetting that I’m tied to the bed. My body doesn’t move. Sucking in my lips, I try not to cry out as the hard metal of the handcuffs around my wrists bites into my skin to the point of pain.

“You’re awake again,” that same rough voice calls out before I see his body standing in front of me.

He lets out a husky laugh, then clears his throat. “The men of your little group are busy, although I have to admit that it’s partially my fault. I would have thought they’d have at least sent a prospect out looking for you. That place has been quiet.”

I don’t respond to his words. He wants me to lose hope, but he doesn’t realize that hope is already lost for me. It was lost a long time ago when I was a little girl. I know I’m nothing more than a chess piece to trade around.

I realize it wholly now. And as much as I wanted to feel a sense of freedom by leaving my childhood behind me, it’ll never be behind me. It’s always front and center. It’s always part of me, and pieces of it can never be shaken off.

This is just a piece that will never be shaken.

I am the Southern Mafia.

The Southern Mafia is me.

I will never be anything more. Never anything less. I will be part of them because I was born into them. Fighting it has done zero good. It’s time that I embrace it as who I am as my identity. I’m Albert’s granddaughter. I’m my father’s daughter, even though he’s dead. And I am my brother’s sister.

My brother, who fucked over a bad group of people but left me a house.

A house that I’ll probably never see again.

Then I think about the dishes in the sink and wonder if one of the girls is going to go inside and notice that I’m not the best housekeeper on earth. Are they going to judge me? I mean, I’ll be dead, so it won’t matter, but my spirit is going to be embarrassed as hell.

“We’ll be moving you, but only because we want to play. I’ll be back.”

He marches away, his words having struck not only panic but also fear in my heart.

Play.

Play.

Play.

The word is on a constant loop in my head. I can only imagine a million different bad scenarios, which is why he said what he did and walked away. To torture me. I can’t help but wonder what will happen when Humble finds me. Is he going to get vengeance for this, or will he shrug it off?

I’m just a thing he owns. He doesn’t have any feelings for me, not really. I’m sure he’ll react because his toy has been damaged. But otherwise, I wonder if he’ll care much past that.

And that causes my heart to squeeze. Because I was falling for him. Stupid quick. But I was still falling. And I know it wasn’t real, at least on his end. I feel really dumb. I wanted him, wanted what could have been.

I knew I couldn’t keep him. I wasn’t planning on it, but I was enjoying myself. I was going to take those memories of him with me and keep them tucked away forever. It was a plan, a dumb one, apparently. But it was mine.

Just when I think that everything is as bad as it can be, the door opens again. Turning my head, I suck in a gasp. Oh, I know who is here, and I know it’s going to be bad. So damn bad.

“Conrad,” I whisper.

“So you remember me.”