Chapter 19

CHAPTER

NINETEEN

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Nash stares at King, then flicks his attention between us. He doesn’t speak right away. He is staring, and he even shifts in his seat as if he doesn’t want to tell us who the fuck is in charge of the Southern Mafia. I open my mouth to demand that he speak, but before I can say a word, he begins to talk.

Sucking in a breath, I wait for his words. “The Southern Mafia isn’t just a Shreveport thing, you’re right. The man who was running the one in Shreveport and his grandson were nothing but a blip to the whole organization.”

“Like the Dark Horse?” I ask.

“Just like that,” Nash murmurs.

“What happens now that everyone is gone?” Atomic asks. “We killed them all, no fucks given.”

Nash nods his head once, then hums. “I’ve been thinking about that,” he says. “I don’t know if the main club is going to care,” he murmurs.

“Where are they?” I ask.

“Richmond.”

Blinking, I try to gather my thoughts. Richmond. I wasn’t expecting that. I thought maybe they were in New Orleans or something, but Richmond? Didn’t cross my fucking mind in the slightest.

“As in Virginia?” King asks.

Nash chuckles. “As in Virginia. They’re called the Southern Mafia for a reason. They’re all over the South.”

“Fuck,” Atomic hisses. “How did we not know this?” he demands. “Why didn’t you tell us when all of it started?”

Nash leans back in his seat, his gaze focused on Atomic now. “It’s not my job to tell you dick,” he states. “You’re the president of an MC and have been for a while. Why the fuck didn’t you know who your enemies were?”

Atomic stands, slamming his palms on the table as he leans forward, his face just a few inches from Nash’s.

“Don’t pull that shit with me. You knew that we were walking into this shit with them blind. They weren’t on our radar at all. Fuck, you even connected us with the goddamn ex-leader.”

Nash doesn’t even flinch at his move. He isn’t intimidated by a damn thing, but when I flick my gaze over to King, I can tell he’s upset, and it’s not aimed at his father. Instead, he’s staring at Atomic like he’s ready to pounce on him and tear his ass up.

Atomic needs to understand that while he’s the president, it’s Nash who relinquished that title to him, and King is his actual son. Blood runs fucking thick, and King isn’t going to stand for Atomic fucking over his dad in any way whatsoever.

“I connected you with someone who could rein in those idiots who were running that chapter. I connected you with someone who would agree to and adhere to a treaty. I can’t control that Loner was a fucking piece of shit and his grandfather couldn’t keep him in line.”

Atomic shakes his head, his expression nothing short of exasperated. “Nash,” he growls, “what the fuck is going on here? We need to know everything. All of it.”

Atomic is insistent, and I don’t blame him, but I have a feeling that Nash didn’t give us all the information for a reason. And I’m ready to hear that reason. Crossing my arms over my chest, I stare at him.

When Nash doesn’t respond, I watch as Atomic sinks back down in the chair. He lets out a heavy sigh and jerks his chin toward Nash in an effort to tell him to continue without actually saying the words.

“The Southern Mafia has never been an issue. They operate like us, on the fringe of society. But unlike us, they deal in skin. Prostitution, trafficking. It’s not something I ever wanted to dabble in.”

“So, what the fuck?” Atomic grunts.

Nash runs his fingers through his short hair. He looks tired and right now is looking more his age than his usual, twenty years younger. I hate this shit. All of it. What the fuck is wrong with them doing their shit and us doing ours? Why the hell did it have to go like this?

“What do you think the main club in Virginia knows or wants from us?” Atomic asks.

Nash shrugs a shoulder before he speaks. “I don’t know what they have going on or what their priorities are. I also wouldn’t be making a phone call. I would go over there myself.”

“And what? Ask to be killed?” I ask. “Fuck that.”

Nash chuckles, but I can tell he is not finding any of this funny. This is fucking with his good time, with the focus of his club. And it’s also clear that the Southern Mafia was not on his radar, at least not the way that Atomic thinks it was.

“They won’t kill you. That club is, without a doubt, not worried about us.”

“Then how did we get where we are?” I ask. “What you’re saying and what actually happened are two totally different things.”

Clearing his throat, Nash places his palms on the table, though he doesn’t slam them down the way Atomic did just a few moments ago. Nash leans forward slightly, bending his elbows as he does.

“I’m going to tell you something about the club, the way we began. You won’t like it, and you’re going to look at me differently, at your fathers differently.”

King reaches out and places his hand over Nash’s. “Dad,” he rasps, “we know that the club was far from clean back in the day. It’s still not.”

Nash dips his chin once, then he inhales a deep breath, holding it for a moment before he lets it out slowly. He has something heavy to say to us. I can tell by the way his hands tremble slightly.

“When we were trying to start the club, drugs just didn’t make enough money. We didn’t have capital for loans. There were only a few things that we could do to get the ball rolling. We were young and starting families.”

“Dad,” King warns. “Stop dancing around.”

“We did transports, but it wasn’t of guns and drugs.”

“Nash,” Atomic growls.

Nash lifts one of his hands, scrubbing it down his face before he continues. “We lured and kidnapped girls and took them to different drop-off locations.”

Silence.

I don’t know what to say, what to think. But thankfully, Atomic speaks so that I don’t have to. “As much as I want to judge all of you, I can’t. That wouldn’t be fair.”

“We were disgusting. And doing that shit wears on you. You’re never the same after that. None of us were,” he says, as he gets this faraway expression on his face. Then he shakes his head once, his expression dark and full of guilt. I hate that shit. We’ve all done things we aren’t proud of, and this is no different.

“But if you want to talk to the Richmond club, I can make that happen for you,” Nash murmurs.

“Only if you come with us,” King says. “I think we’re going to need you.”

King is right. We do need Nash, and whatever the fuck he has guilt over, maybe this will assuage that. Though, I doubt it. Kidnapping girls and delivering them into a lifetime of selling their bodies is probably not something that you ever truly get over .

“I’ll set it up, but I’m not going. They won’t do anything to you. I have a feeling that whatever Albert and Loner did was solely on them and nobody else.”

I hope Nash is right. I want him to be right. Going to war doesn’t feel like something I want to do right now. We just finished all that shit with Albert and Loner, with the Shreveport Southern Mafia.

“Now, let’s fuckin drink,” Nash announces.

SPENCER

A professional chef, I am not. But I can’t deny that the baked chicken sitting on top of baby tomatoes and garlic, smothered in mozzarella and marinara, served over a plate of pasta, is delicious.

“I didn’t know you could cook,” Guts grunts.

I shrug a shoulder, swinging my legs beneath me. We’re sitting on the edge of the porch, our legs dangling in the air, or at least mine are. Guts’ are firmly on the ground because he’s probably six inches taller than me.

These men are all giants, and instead of that being intimidating, it makes me feel safe. Supersafe. I’m not sure why. They are not the good guys, never have been. I’ve known that my entire life, but good or bad, they are comfortable.

“I had to learn a lot when I went out on my own,” I say with a shrug of my shoulder.

He hums but thankfully doesn’t say anything. That is, until he clears his throat and I know he’s about to get serious. I can feel his eyes on my profile as he watches me. I don’t look at him. I focus on my food. In fact, it has become the most important thing in my life at the moment.

“How come you came back home all pissed off, ready to kick ass first and take names later, and now…”

His words trail off, and I wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t. He watches and waits for me to respond somehow. I’m not quite sure what I’m supposed to say to him. I continue to focus on my plate, swirling my spaghetti noodles around on my fork before I let out a heavy sigh and finally turn to look at him.

He’s smiling as he watches me, a smirk firmly planted on his lips. “Do I really need to say it?” I ask.

Guts laughs, his voice echoing in the emptiness of the dark land around us. I don’t know why this place is my favorite, but it is. I think I love everything about this cabin and the property around it.

I’ve never felt peaceful in the city. As much as I love Austin and the whole, healthy hippie lifestyle that I really have fallen in love with, there’s just something about Pineville. You can’t feel anything other than at peace.

“You do,” he says.

Letting out a grunt, I lift my fork to my lips and take a bite of my pasta, chewing it thoroughly to waste some time. I’m not sure how I’m going to answer this. What I truly feel, I can’t say. I can’t admit it to myself, let alone another person… not yet at least.

“Brew,” I whisper.

“Always been him, babe.”

“Always,” I agree.

He chuckles, his voice low, almost so low that I don’t hear him, but I do. “Yeah,” I rasp.

“He was never the same after you left,” he announces after a few moments of silence. I open my mouth to ask him who, but he continues, so I snap my lips closed. “Neither of them were. Not Clink and not Brew. They love you, Spencer.”

I’m not sure how I feel about that information. Clink always told me that he was proud of me and that he was happy I left and was living my life. Although I know he wanted me to at least come home more often to visit.

Brew… I can’t even dig into that right now.

Because if I do, I’m going to feel like I lost out on ten years with this man, and I don’t want to believe that things could have worked out, that we could have been together this whole time.

But would we be? I know without a doubt that I was not ready for a relationship when I left here. I don’t think Evan was, either. He is not the same person he was ten years ago. Granted, he was a grown-ass man then, just as he is now, but it’s a different world, and he would have expected me to accept things that would have completely destroyed me.

Even with as much hesitation as I have about this right now, I know myself as a woman and what I will accept and what I won’t. Although, all of that doesn’t stop my mind from spinning. And that doesn’t mean I trust him yet—that takes time. The time we’ve spent together is just a blip.

But I want more. I want it all with Evan. Every single little thing there is to have.