Chapter Ten
June
I expect Theo to drag me to the clubhouse, but he clearly wants to be as far away from me as possible after our fight.
He drops me off at the house, tells me to stay put, then leaves, the sound of his roaring bike lingering long after he’s gone.
Part of me wants to storm from the house to spite him, but exhaustion wins, and I drop onto the couch, turning on NCIS reruns.
I scroll through the group chat with Sadie, Evelyn, and Rose, which is overflowing with unread messages.
Guilt bites at the lining of my stomach as I think about all I’m keeping from them, but it’s not like I can text my three very normal best friends ‘Hey, sorry about your work drama, but at least you’re not being blackmailed into living with the guy you tried to murder for the next month. ’
I have to tell them something , though. They’ll eventually learn about Theo. I wouldn’t put it past him to show up at Taco Tuesday and dangle our fake relationship in their faces. But my fingers refuse to text anything right now.
Tuesday. I’ll tell them on Tuesday. That’ll give me a few days to figure out what exactly to tell them.
~
My second morning in Theo’s house is similar to the first. He’s already gone when I exit my room, lured by the aroma of freshly brewed coffee.
Though this time, he included a note next to the coffee.
The first thing I notice is the way Theo writes his g’s.
They dip far below the line, the bottom half looped up like a noose.
Then I read it and immediately crumple it into a ball and toss it in the sink disposal.
Luna taking you to work. I’ll pick you up. Don’t forget about the club meeting tonight.
“We have recycling, you know.”
I jump and spin around to see James watching me. He’s shirtless, tattoo-covered chest on full display.
“Oh, I was just…”
“Taking your anger at T out on an innocent piece of paper? I can tell.” He opens the cupboard above the coffee maker and pulls down two mugs, handing one to me.
“Thanks.” I grab it by the rim and take a careful step back.
“There’s no need to be so on guard all the time. No one is going to hurt you.”
I scoff.
James fills his mug to the top and sets the coffee pot on the counter between us. “T gave his order, and we all follow it, whether we agree or not.”
I keep my attention on him as I fill my mug, leaving an inch of space for creamer. “Why?”
“Because he’s the president.”
“I mean, why did he give the order? Why is he doing this?” No matter how much I think about it or replay Theo’s words in my head, I can’t come up with an adequate reason.
James studies me for several uncomfortable seconds, then shakes his head and says, “Because you’re a predator.”
I frown and am about to ask him to explain when the front door swings open and Luna flies in, dropping her helmet on the dining table.
“Killer!” she calls. Eyes moving from me to James, she lowers her voice. “Do you take requests?”
“What?” The Saints must have a silent way of communicating because I constantly feel like I’m missing context that’s obvious to them.
“Murder requests?” Luna clarifies. “My brother definitely deserves to be on your hitlist.”
“Orion again?” James asks. He leans against the counter, sipping his coffee despite it still being scalding hot.
Luna nods and walks between us to open the fridge.
“Yes. He won’t leave me the fuck alone.” She pulls out a Red Bull then casually hops onto the counter, crossing her legs.
“Orion doesn’t think a motorcycle club is appropriate for a Mcintyre.
He’s been trying to make me quit since they found out I joined. ”
I remember reading that Luna comes from a big, somewhat well-known family, but somehow, I completely forgot. “Your dad is a judge, right?”
She rolls her eyes. “He’s hoping for a Supreme Court nomination, and according to Orion, having a daughter in a ‘gang’ will ruin his chances.
” She makes air quotes around the word “gang” then cracks open the Red Bull.
“You’d think having nine children with three women would be more detrimental, but no, all that matters is that his kids have prestigious careers. ”
My brain automatically filters through the mental files on Luna.
Her dad, Hugh Mcintyre, has nine children, three from his first marriage before his wife died of cancer, four from his current marriage, including Luna, and twins from an affair.
Instead of negative press about his affair, he was able to spin it to his favor by welcoming in the twins and publicly apologizing for betraying his wife, who was somehow incredibly understanding and forgiving of her husband’s infidelity.
“Orion is a surgeon,” I say without thinking. “Third child, second oldest boy, and the last Hugh Mcintyre had with his first wife before she died. Five years older than you.”
Luna’s mouth falls open, and James frowns, his gaze becoming more intense as he stares at me. A second later, I realize that normal people wouldn’t have known all of that because normal people don’t learn everything about a stranger’s friends while planning to murder said stranger.
“You forgot to list his star sign,” Luna says sarcastically.
It’s Sagittarius, but I don’t say that. Instead, I mutter, “Sorry.”
“Did you memorize the family tree of every Saint?” James asks.
“No,” I answer truthfully. I investigated each of them but only thoroughly researched the officers, those closest to Theo.
James was the most difficult to research.
All I really learned was that his father, Rocket, was the last leader of the Saints before moving out of the state over four years ago.
Luna grins widely. “Liar. You totally stalked us.”
I clear my throat and attempt to move the conversation away from me. “What did Orion do?”
“Same as usual. Called me at the ass-crack of dawn to chew me out for being involved with a bunch of criminals. Apparently, Aurora took a B and E case involving a biker. Not a Saint, just a random biker.”
Aurora is the second Mcintyre child, and she’s following in daddy’s footsteps by becoming a prosecutor. She has a reputation for being as ruthless as her dad and is, unfortunately, just as good at her job.
“I’m sorry, Lu,” James says. “Just ignore him. He’ll give up eventually.”
“No, he won’t. Dad already cut me off. He said if I don’t get my act together soon, Dad’ll be forced to publicly renounce me as a member of the family.”
James gives her a commiserating look. I shift uncomfortably.
“So, how ‘bout it, killer? Wanna off my brother?”
I snort. “Kill a guy with a judge father, prosecutor older sister, and lawyer younger brother? I don’t think so.”
“Bummer.” Luna shrugs. Then she rolls her shoulders as if to shake off the thoughts of her family. “Well, you almost ready to go?”
I look down at my body, still wearing pajamas and no shoes. Then I check the time and curse. Abandoning my coffee on the counter, I run back to my room to get ready.
The day passes quickly, and when my last appointment cancels, I don’t text Theo.
Instead, I use the free hour and a half to call an Uber and return to my house.
I make quick work of grabbing another knife, my gun, a burner phone, and the drugs Theo threatened to tell the cops about.
I already have the thumb drive with all my research on Theo and the Saints, which I hid in my shoe when Theo picked me up on Wednesday.
Smiling, I rush out to the Uber and tell him to take me back to my office.
I spend the drive thinking through possible ways to get rid of Theo, but each option ends with the Saints coming after me for revenge.
Too many of them know what I was planning to do to their beloved leader, so unless I have a perfect alibi, they’ll know if I kill Theo, and I wouldn’t survive a day.
But even if I never get to finish the job, simply having my supplies and weapons is comforting.
Unfortunately, the euphoria from outsmarting Theo evaporates when he arrives to pick me up, holds out his hand, and says, “Gun and drugs, please.”
My jaw drops. “How—”
“Did you really think I didn’t plan for you to do something like this? Come on, little reaper. I’m not an idiot.”
Fury coaxes the fire. “What did you do? Plant a tracker on me? Put cameras in my house?”
“You can keep the other knife, but not the gun or drugs. I’ll give them back at the end of the month.”
“No.”
Theo smirks. “Want a repeat of Tuesday night? Maybe this fight will end differently and won’t leave you so… frustrated.”
My face burns. I know we can’t fight in the middle of the office, and there’s no way in hell I’m letting him that close to me again.
So, I retrieve the gun and little bag and drop them in Theo’s still outstretched hand.
He tucks the gun in the back of his pants and zips open the bag, studying each vial to ensure I didn’t take out any drugs or syringes.
“Alright, let’s go. We have church to get to.”
~
The Saints of Purgatory’s Friday “church” meeting feels eerily familiar.
Sitting among the group of people who all want their voices heard, I try to locate the origin of this odd sense of familiarity.
There are simultaneously a dozen fights brewing between the bikers and, somehow, a strong undercurrent of unity and love.
Then it hits me. The foster family I lived with from ages seven to thirteen, the best years of my life.
The family consisted of two biological children, two adopted children, and two to four foster kids at any given time.
It was constant chaos in that house. There was never a quiet moment, even in the middle of the night, and my foster parents encouraged input from all the kids, which meant there were a lot of discussions.
Arguments, however, were banned. I remember always being on edge, prepared for an imminent fight.
But whenever it got close, our parents would shut down the conversation, postponing it until everyone calmed down.