13. Valentina

Chapter 13

Valentina

I get a few lovely days to myself before Ronan picks me up in a black Hummer with windows tinted nearly black. Niall’s driving and Seamus is in the passenger side seat, and there’s another big SUV following behind packed with Hayes Group soldiers.

“Isn’t this a little much?” I ask him as we wind our way out of the city. “It’s just a business meeting, right?”

“Never know with the bikers.” He glances at me, but his eyes don’t linger. He hasn’t been as outgoing and flirty with me today, and I’m not sure why.

But that’s actually preferable. When he grins and calls me love, it makes my damn blood boil, and it’s probably better if he acts like I’m just another business associate.

The change bothers me for some reason though. Probably because it’s different, and I don’t know why. When I ask him if there’s anything bothering him, he only glances at Niall and ends up shaking his head. I can tell he’s blowing me off, and that’s fine—I decide not to push.

Instead of a half hour of Ronan teasing, I get some blessed silence at least.

We end up pulling into the mostly abandoned parking lot of a strip mall that looks like it’s about to be demolished. The only active storefront is a gym taking up the entire left side of the structure, but there are only a couple of cars parked out front. Otherwise, the place looks like it sees more tumbleweeds than patrons.

“Who are we meeting with, exactly?” I ask as we step out of the Hummer.

“One of the biggest motorcycle gangs in the area.” Ronan frowns as his guys fan out and start securing the area. None of them are explicitly carrying weapons, but I’m sure they’re all armed.

Heck, I’ve got the .22 Ronan gave me tucked into a conceal carry holster in the small of my back.

“And that would be?” I ask, annoyed that he’s not being more forthcoming.

“The Faithful Servants.”

I stare at him, my mouth falling open, as the sound of growling bikes drones in the distance. They get closer and closer, until a small fleet of eight men riding enormous Harleys pulls into the lot, circles up, and gets settled.

These guys are exactly what I picture when I close my eyes and think the words douchebag MC dickheads . They’re big, tattooed, covered in patches, flags, symbols, and beards. Each has a gun displayed prominently at their hips like they couldn’t care less about the cops. All wear the “1%er” patch on their chest proudly, the arrogant little pricks.

And worst of all, I know them.

Well, I know their leader, a man named Gregory. He’s got long, salt-and-pepper hair, ripped jeans, the typical biker vest with all the usual patches and bullshit, and a nose like he slammed into a brick wall one too many times. He’s in his fifties, overweight and out of shape, and sneers as he walks over to shake hands with Ronan.

I linger behind them, hoping the dickhead won’t spot me, but unfortunately, I can’t melt into the scenery.

“Holy fuck,” Gregory says, stepping past Ronan. Niall tenses beside me, but Gregory has an enormous grin on his face. “Is that Valentina Santoro?”

“You know each other?” Ronan asks.

“Marco used to do work for the Faithful Servants,” I say and struggle not to groan. “How’s business, Gregory?”

“Fantastic. You tell that boyfriend of yours he does great work.”

“I haven’t seen Marco in a while. We’re not working together anymore.”

“No? You single?” His eyebrows shoot up, and Ronan tenses beside him. “Good-looking woman like you don’t have a man? Come on, honey, don’t bullshit me, I bet you got these Irish lads eating out of the palm of your fucking pussy.”

I grimace. Gregory has a way with words. “I’m just working with them, that’s all.”

“Why don’t we leave the girl alone and discuss business?” Ronan says, and his tone’s hard and his eyes are dangerous. He’s wearing a smile, but that’s clearly a costume—I know him well enough to see the rage bubbling under his surface.

Which begs the question, why would he care if Gregory acts like his usual disgusting self with me?

It’s not like Ronan paid me much attention on the drive over. He’s making it clear that we’re associates, not friends, which is for the best.

Gregory’s a dumb asshole and he doesn’t notice how angry Ronan is, but he listens and the two of them stand in the center of a tense and bored-looking circle of armed gangsters. I lurk on the edges with Niall, listening as Ronan questions Gregory about the meth trade and who’s running what into the city.

It doesn’t take long before Gregory knows who we’re looking for. “You’re in luck, as it happens. The group you’re looking for goes by the name Bullethole Boys.”

“Seriously?” Ronan asks. His trademark smirk returns. “ Bullethole Boys ?”

“I know, sounds gay as fuck, but that’s them.” Gregory laughs loudly at his homophobic joke and I just cringe. Ronan doesn’t seem amused. “As it turns out, we’re in the process of negotiating a little alliance. Seems we might be patching them over in the near future.”

“Which means you’ll have access to some important information about our friend Rocco.” Ronan glances at me, and I’m not sure I like where this is going. “We could work together, if you’re interested.”

“You building a score?” Gregory crosses his big arms. “I wasn’t in the market for work, but you’re reliable, I’ll give you that. What’s the deal?”

Ronan opens his mouth, but I step forward. I can’t help myself. The thought of sharing this job with Gregory and his group of racist morons is a little too much for me. “Hold on a second,” I say, staring at Ronan. “Can I talk to you first?”

Ronan glares at me and I can feel the vibe shift slightly. All eyes turn in my direction, and I know I just made an enormous mistake. Ronan’s the boss in this situation, and speaking out of turn just made him look weak, assuming he doesn’t do anything to put me back in my place. I grimace, not sure what to expect, when Gregory laughs loudly.

“What the fuck is this? Is the bitch running the show or some shit, Ronan?” He throws back his head. “I get it, she’s a sexy little piece of ass, but shut her the fuck up so we can talk.”

Ronan’s jaw flexes. A part of me thinks he’s going to turn on me, but instead, he steps closer to Gregory.

“Valentina is my partner,” he says very softly. The menace in his tone is shocking. I don’t think I’ve ever heard Ronan sound like that before, and a shiver runs down my spine. Niall moves closer, subtly reaching his hand to the hip where he keeps his gun.

“So the fuck what? The men are talking, Ronan, unless you gave up your balls to that bitch? It was bad enough dealing with her when I worked with Marco, but you better not be just as bad as that pussy.”

“I’m going to ask you one more time. Watch your mouth.”

Gregory’s amusement begins to fade. “You’re fucking serious.”

“I don’t let anyone disrespect my business partners.”

“You’re going to challenge me over some fucking pair of tits?”

“Apologize and we’ll move on.”

“Suck my dick, Irish fuck.” Gregory’s smile is all menace now. The men behind him are shifting their weight, and Ronan’s soldiers are doing the same. The moment hangs in the air, and in only a few seconds, this is going to break down into violence. If that happens, I doubt very many men are going to walk away from this place alive.

All because Ronan wouldn’t let Gregory disrespect me.

“All right, boys, let’s not start measuring dicks on my account, okay?” I say loudly into the tension. “I’m very impressed, but can we stick to business?”

“Apologize,” Ronan snarls.

“Fuck yourself with my knife,” Gregory snarls back.

“All right, you fat fuck. No guns. Got me?”

“I got you.” Gregory’s grin is vicious. “Hear that, boys? No guns.”

There’s general laughter, but at least their hands move away from their belts.

“Better stand back,” Niall says, sounding grim. He glances at me. “You better be worth it.”

I open my mouth to say, I’m not , but it’s too late.

Ronan slugs Gregory across the face, and all hell breaks loose.

I stagger away from the mass of fighting men, staring in horror as the MC gang and the Irish fighters brawl. It’s absolute chaos, but at least nobody’s getting shot. Ronan’s in the center of it, breaking Gregory’s nose, and he doesn’t see another of the MC guys kick him in the back of the knee and punch him in the head. Seamus throws himself in the thick of it, punching with wild glee, and Niall’s busy kicking a big MC guy’s ribs into a fine paste.

I don’t know what to do. I can’t stop this. These are big, vicious, violent men hell-bent on beating each other to death, and I stand and watch in horror as Ronan breaks Gregory’s nose and knocks the big MC leader out, only to get his own face kicked by a random biker soldier. I lose sight of him for a while, and the fight lasts way too freaking long, until finally someone in the back starts shouting about the cops. The fight breaks up as the motorcycles kick to life and the bikers drag their leader back to their protective ring. Ronan storms over to me, blood pooling from his split lip and broken nose, looking like hell and beauty all at once, and my heart’s racing as he drags me into the back of the Hummer.

“Drive,” he barks at Niall, who doesn’t look much better than him. Seamus gets in seconds before we pull out, and he’s grinning like a maniac.

“Good sport,” he says, looking back at Ronan.

Ronan nods back. “Good sport,” he agrees, then turns to me.

There’s no amusement in his eyes. There’s no flirting, no teasing, no fun-loving Ronan. There’s only the cold calculation of a crime family boss glaring right into my face.

“You fucked up,” he says.

“I know, I shouldn’t have spoken up, but?—”

“No fucking buts,” he snaps, and I pull back in surprise. “Gregory’s an odious fuck, but if we have to work with him to get what we want, then we work with him.”

I feel my own anger begins to swell. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one he’s going to sexually harass.”

“I would have handled him.”

“Like you did just now?”

“Yes,” he says, leaning forward. For a second, I think he’s going to yell in my face. But instead, he pulls off his shirt and uses it to wipe the blood from his face. I stare at his chest, damp with sweat, and bite my lip to keep from yelling in frustration.

“You didn’t need to do that,” I say softly.

“Which one is it, love? I need to protect you from Gregory, or I should let him say what he wants?” I open my mouth to answer, but he cuts me off. “No, don’t, I don’t care. You fucked up and you know it. But I would’ve defended anyone in my family like that. Fucking childish fight. Goddamn fucking childish. We’re lucky Gregory and his guys are disciplined, otherwise someone would have died.”

That’s the end of the argument. I sit and stew in silence, honestly madder with myself than I am with Ronan. He’s right to give me crap: I screwed up back there, all because I hate Gregory and couldn’t stand getting involved with a creep like him.

And Ronan did defend me. He risked himself and his men to do it. The blood on his face is there because of me, because Gregory was being a prick, and I have to honestly wonder if he really would have picked a fight with a vicious MC gang for Seamus or Niall. Some part of me doubts it.

We ride in tense silence back to the city. Niall parks outside of my building, but I don’t get out. Ronan stares at me, saying nothing.

“Where does this leave us?” I ask him, too ashamed and annoyed with myself to meet his gaze. I stare out the window instead. “I think business with Gregory is probably not happening now, considering you knocked him out.”

“You’re probably right.”

“And I’d understand if you wanted to cut ties with me too.” I take a deep breath to steady my voice. Shame rushes into me, cold and ugly. “I’m sorry, okay? I fucked up. I should’ve kept my mouth shut and trusted you.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he says, but his tone’s softer. “I’m not getting rid of you, love, except you need to learn how these things go. You’re not the Don’s daughter anymore.”

I close my eyes, fighting back tears. “I know that.”

His hand touches my arm. It lingers there, and I’m not sure what it means. Is he trying to comfort me? There’s not much he can do about how I feel. I know he didn’t mean to wound me, but bringing up my dead father still hurts, even though it’s been over two years since he passed.

I miss my old life. I miss the person I used to be, and I’m still mourning for her loss. It’s not his fault though.

“All right, love. Cheer up, okay? Today wasn’t a total waste.”

“How’s that?” I ask, wiping my face and feeling like an idiot.

“We know where Rocco’s getting his supply. Maybe we can’t work with Gregory, but now we know where else to look.”

I let out a laugh. “The Bullethole Boys?”

“Exactly.”

“Aren’t they getting patched over to the Faithful Servants?”

“We’ll see about all that.” His hand slips down to my thigh. I turn and he’s smiling slightly. That old smirk is back. “And don’t worry about today. That fight might’ve been childish, but there’s nothing like a brawl to bring the lads together. Right, Seamus?”

“Damn right, boss,” Seamus says. I look at him and he’s grinning ear to ear.

Niall is too. “Nothing better than kicking the shit out of an asshole biker. Seriously, who the fuck wants to ride those things?”

“Obnoxious and ridiculous,” Seamus says, nodding in agreement.

Most of the tension dissipates. I’m not ready to smile and act like nothing happened, but I’m grateful that they seem ready to move on already. Ronan squeezes my leg.

“Get some rest. We’ll be in touch.”

I push open the door and get out. The Hummer doesn’t move as I head inside, and it stays there until I’m safely in the elevator heading up to my apartment, wondering what I’ve gotten myself into.