Chapter Three

Silver

He would never let me go.

I knew that now.

He had some fucking hold on me I couldn't explain. He was everywhere I looked. Even in my dreams, he lurked in the shadows, waiting and watching every move I made.

I knew my words had struck a chord with him. I knew I'd hurt him. Maybe I had meant to, but there was no talking to the man.

Bracing my hands against the sink in the ladies' bathroom, I hung my head and tried to get ahold of my emotions. Flying off the handle where Malice was concerned would only aggravate the situation more.

"Silver?"

Shaking my head, I whispered, "Don't, Largo."

I knew what she was going to say.

I wasn't stupid.

I had lived around the aggravating man long enough to see the signs. I knew he cared more than he should. Somehow, he felt responsible, almost beholden to me. Which I thought hilarious, considering he was the one who saved me. It should be the other way around.

Yet, it wasn't.

"Baby, look at me," Tessa said, leaning against the sink next to me.

Doing as she asked, she sighed. "What do you need?"

"Air," I muttered. "I need air. I can't breathe when he's around. I can't think. He's everywhere. I can't scratch my nose without him glaring or growling. I just need space."

"Then you will have it," Montana's firm voice declared from behind me. Looking up into the mirror, I saw the man I considered my brother, my best friend, standing firm. "Mercy is giving you a penthouse at Davenport Tower. It's yours. You've earned it. Maybe some distance will do the both of you some good."

Sniffing, I turned to face him and whispered, "You mean it? I don't have to live in the clubhouse anymore?"

"Hate the thought of you living somewhere else, but it's time. You need your own place. Your own things. You need to see what the world can offer you, but let me be very clear, Silver. You are still ours. Always will be. I still expect you to work the bar and attend all club functions, and you will still obey every directive I give. I lockdown the clubhouse, your ass better be inside. Got me?"

I happily nodded, then frowned. "Malice won't like that."

"You let me worry about Malice," he stated, then turned to Largo. "Sis, maybe you can take Silver shopping tomorrow. Get her whatever she needs."

Largo smiled brightly, holding out her hand. "I'm going to need spending money."

Montana groaned, reaching for his wallet, before handing her his black Amex card. "Just make sure I have enough left on that thing to buy lunch, okay?"

Largo took the card, kissing Montana's cheek. "No promises."

Montana walked over to me and cupped my face. I could clearly see the worry and indecision in his eyes. He didn't want me to go, but he wouldn't stop me.

"Love you, girl. Have since the first day we met. Not gonna be the same without you busting my balls every day, but you deserve to find something or someone who can make you happy. Ain't gonna like who you find. No one will ever be good enough for you."

Sniffing, I whispered, "I love you too."

A week later...

The penthouse was massive.

I didn't know what I was going to do with all the space.

For years, I had lived in my small room at the clubhouse. The club provided me with everything I might need. Yet, looking around the large penthouse, I realized it could take me a lifetime and I would still never be able to fill this place and make it feel like a home.

"Not complaining, but don't you have something a bit smaller? Like maybe half this size?"

Mercy chuckled. "Nope. This is the penthouse Montana picked out for you. Strategically below mine and Largo's place and above Vicious and Fury's."

"Great, I'm surrounded," I muttered mainly to myself, shaking my head. I knew this would not be easy. I should have known that Montana wouldn't let me off the leash. Oh, he would loosen the reins, but he would never fully let go.

"You should also know that Pippen linked this place to the club's security system. There are cameras in the main room, kitchen, and at the elevator."

"So, no privacy?"

"Be thankful," Mercy grumbled. "Montana wanted cameras everywhere. Even in the bedroom and bathrooms."

"You can thank me for that." Largo smiled happily while she directed the movers to where she wanted the furniture that was being delivered. "I actually had to explain to him why a young woman needed privacy. Talk about an uncomfortable conversation. Asshole was greener than green beans by the time I finished with him."

"And I'm still having nightmares." Montana grimaced, shaking his head as he walked down the hall with Tessa. "You didn't need to be so descriptive."

The elevator doors opened, and we all turned to see Storm standing there with a box in his arms.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Montana asked.

"Making a delivery," the man said, smiling as he handed me the box. "From Delany. She wanted to be here to give you this herself, but she's been sick all morning."

"Is she okay?" I asked, genuinely concerned.

Delany Calloway was the newest member of the club, so to speak. The wife of Storm, Delany, and her daughter Harlow were a tremendous surprise to Storm when he learned he'd fathered the young girl. To make matters worse, the club later learned that Delany had ties to the Golden Skulls. It was still a touchy subject for Montana, but he was dealing as best he could. Mainly, Montana was trying to find a way to let Reaper know Storm married a Golden Legacy without permission and how to save Storm's life before Reaper reaped his soul.

Now everyone was hoping that since Delany was pregnant again, Reaper would approve of the marriage. However, Montana wasn't so sure, considering he returned from California with a new bullet hole in his leg, thanks to the volatile Golden Skulls President.

"Morning sickness kicked into high gear. She can barely get out of bed, let alone keep anything down."

"I'll swing by later today to check on her," Tessa offered.

"I'd appreciate that." Storm smiled before facing me again. "Anyway, Delany asked me to give you that."

Smiling, I walked over to the sofa Largo had purchased, opened the box and gasped. Reaching into the box, I pulled out a quilt. A stunning handmade quilt. The colors reminded me of home back in Wales. It was exquisite. The attention to detail was unlike anything I'd ever seen. Unfolding it, I smiled, running my hands over each intricately designed square. It was lovely.

"It's beautiful." I smiled, hugging the quilt to my chest. "Tell Delany I said thank you. I've never had anything homemade before. I will treasure this forever."

Storm grinned, then turned to Montana. "I'm also in town to see Malice."

My head snapped up and I listened intently.

Since the night at the club, no one had seen hide nor hair of Malice. It was as if he just got up and disappeared. While I was thankful for the distance, I felt terrible about what I said and desperately wanted to apologize to the man. However, whenever I asked about him, the brothers told me not to worry, and that he was okay.

"Apparently someone is interested in buying the Playground. Someone called Crispin Sinclair."

I knew that name.

Malice introduced me to the man when shit heated up with Illyria. I knew with Petrovitch in the area, I wasn't safe, so I left. I disappeared, putting distance between me and the man who tortured me for three years. I think on some level I knew that Malice would follow, and he did. He found me the day after Illyria did in Vegas.

I wasn't surprised.

I wasn't happy either, but this was Malice I was talking about. The man didn't believe in boundaries, and because of him and his connections, I had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Sinclair.

Mercy whistled, shaking his head. "Crispin Ulysses Sinclair is no joke. I've met the man. He's something else."

"Good or bad?" Montana asked.

"Let me put it this way." Mercy smirked. "If you think Malice is uptight and closed off, imagine him a thousand times worse. Crispin Sinclair isn't a man you ever want to fucking cross. He's got his hands in everything, and I mean everything. He is a self-made billionaire who doesn't give two fucks about anything or anyone. If he wants something, nothing will stop him from achieving his goal. The man is singular and extremely fucking dangerous. Makes Malice look like a fucking marshmallow. Oh, and just so you know, if he has eyes on the Playground, then there is something in this city he fucking wants. He only moves into an area when it's beneficial to him."

"Well, this Sinclair guy is offering Malice three times what he's asking for. In cash," Storm stated.

Montana gasped. "I know the Playground is exclusive but three times the asking price. What the fuck were you able to find on him?"

Storm sighed. "Not a damn thing. All I know is that Sinclair sent over a very detailed and lengthy contract, stipulating everything he is willing to give Malice if he agrees to sell the Playground to him within the next thirty days. From a business standpoint, the deal would make the club bank. Put us in the red for the next two years."

"That's if Malice will sell." Mercy groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. "With everything going on, I don't see him being amiable to anything at the moment."

"What do you mean?" I asked, walking over to Montana, who slowly shook his head, stopping both brothers from saying anything.

"It's nothing, Silver. Just club business," the aggravating man replied.

"Don't feed me the company line, Montana. I know something is wrong. I'm not stupid. I've been around all of you long enough to know the signs. What is going on with Malice?"

Kissing the side of my head, the man simply said, "It's nothing. Don't worry about him. Just concentrate on making this place livable. Storm, Mercy, let's go."

Knowing Montana wouldn't give me what I wanted, I stayed silent while the three men left, leaving me alone with Tessa and Largo.

The second the elevator doors closed, I looked at the women and waited. Tessa sighed, shaking her head.

"Don't ask me. The jerk hasn't told me shit."

"Mercy is the same. Whatever is going on with Malice, all the brothers are tight-lipped about it. No one is saying anything."

"Which means Montana ordered them to stay silent."

Both women nodded.

Well shit.