Steve 38.
“Where did you find this guy?” Rowan asks, taking his seat at the 4-person table in the bistro where we agreed to meet the architect.
Chase opens his portfolio, aka his Business Bible, then glances up at Rowan. “I found them through the Morgantown Area Business Association. Highly recommended.” Rowan nods at Chase’s reassurance, his eyes flitting side to side, up and down outside the large front window. We’re a couple of tables away from it, but it doesn’t stop his thorough inspection. I can’t blame him.
For the past two weeks since the fire the club has been on high alert. Everyone’s moods significantly improved after the sex-a-thon a week and a half ago, but Jupiter’s constant reminders to “Stay Frosty” do not fall on deaf ears. Carter has proven himself dangerous and now that he has been identified, I don’t imagine being actively hunted by ex-military vigilante biker bankers has made him saner.
The bell above the door chimes and I glance up briefly, seeing a cute girl-next-door type confidently enter, rolled dark denim capris, flowy maroon blouse with mustard yellow print, black strappy sandals, and a black linen blazer to complete the look.
“Adorable,” Chase murmurs next to me, watching the same woman. She’s probably in her late twenties, youthful blonde wavy bob, and a pair of stylish plastic frames.
“I know, right?” Rowan rolls his eyes at us, but neither of us care much.
“Love the outfit, girlie pop!” Chase calls out. She pauses mid-step, looks up at us, smiles, and continues in our direction.
“OMG, Gryffindor for life!” I shout excitedly, pounding my chest with my closed fist then raising it in the air. She laughs, also adorable, and stops next to our table. Rowan stiffens beside me but doesn’t move.
“Ulysses?” My brows bunch and my mouth curls down at my given name. “You don’t look like a Ulysses.” Her tone is friendly, but the convo took a weird turn.
“What does a Ulysses look like?”
“Like you should be wearing a Union Soldier’s uniform and polishing your bayonet.” The three of us burst out laughing at her quick retort. “Sorry, I should probably introduce myself,” she holds out her hand to me first, as I take it, she continues, “E.M. Hazelip.” Chase and I share a look, his smile stretching wider. “Expecting someone less…boobalicious?”
“You’re hired!” I proclaim, absolutely positive, she’s the right person for the job.
“Steve. You should probably look at her work, maybe speak to her for a bit longer before you decide,” Rowan encourages, but he’s shaking his head because my daddy knows me well.
“Should. Won’t.” I turn back to E.M. and motion to the empty chair. “So, can we call you something other than E.M.?”
“Em is fine or Hazelip. At the office we usually just call each other by our last names.”
Chase leans over the table, his eyebrow raised, “Be honest, your initials hide a God-awful name that your parents saddled you with because they are cruel?”
Em shrugs with a smile. “It’s God-awful, but my parents named me after my grandmothers, so I can’t be too upset. They’re the only ones that call me by my full name though.”
“No worries.” I sit back in my chair, cross my leg over the other, “I’m sure we’ll come up with a nickname soon anyway.”
“Absolutely.” Chase nods.
“It’s amazing you two run such a successful conglomerate.”
“Daddy. Do you doubt my awesomeness?” It takes me a second to realize what I just said. Mouth open, I pan to Em and see her hiding her laughter behind her hand.
“No, baby boy, I would never.” He uses his finger to push my bottom jaw up until my mouth closes, then kisses it soundly. I sigh into his embrace, loving that he gives zero fucks where anyone else is concerned.
“Are you two done?” Chase’s tone is haughty.
“We are…for now,” Rowan states, then sits back in his own chair, content to observe and protect. I love him bunches.
“Full disclosure, I have been to Queen’s Rook a time or two with some friends and when Lulla got married, we had his bachelor party there.” Em chuckles, her eyes drifting to the side, probably remembering something funny. “Lady Lexicon made an impression.”
“She’s hard to forget,” Chase agrees.
“I hope you don’t mind, but when you scheduled the appointment, I drew up a few rough ideas for the renovation.” She reaches down into her bag producing a leather binder a moment later. Opening it, she slides it over to Chase and I.
“Well, as I live and breathe…” I reach over and grab Chase’s hand. We share another look and then focus back on the intricate drawing. “Rough ideas my ass.” I tap my finger on the reimagined interior of my baby. “This is it.”
Em’s eyes twinkle as she leans forward, her finger poised above the drawing, when the sound of shattering glass rends the air. Immediately I turn to Daddy, my eyes widening in horror at the bullet hole embedded in the wall inches from the side of his face. With the glass missing from the front of the bistro, I hear the second shot, Daddy pulling me down with him just in time. Chase wraps around me, as Daddy pulls his weapon from his hip holster and spins, steadying his arms on the table before returning fire.
“I want the whore!” a male voice yells.
“Pot meet kettle!” Chase yells back. I smack his arm and shush him. Rowan stops firing, then stands. I chance a look at the front of the building, hoping to find Carter lying in a pool of his own blood. Instead, he’s holding a gun to Em’s head, using her body as a shield. She must have run out of the exit like everyone else. Unfortunately, she didn’t make it to safety. How many fucking people are going to be hurt because of me?
No, NOT me. Him. HIM! He is the reason people have been injured, he is the reason my club is destroyed, he’s the reason my friends are scared. Him. Him. Him.
With a deep centering breath, I gently push Chase off me and stand next to Rowan.
“Boy—”
“Why him?” Carter screams, jostling Em with his hand wrapped around her neck from behind. “Why is he so important? The money? His ass lined with gold? Why did he make the cut, and I got the ax?”
“Because you have the personality of a used condom,” I reply without hesitation. Daddy growls next to me and I know I will pay for this later, but I can’t stop. I’m tired of hiding, crying, and relying on others to protect me. I’m a grown-ass adult, I can and should take care of myself. I want Daddy to control me in the bedroom, but out here, I’m Ulysses Steven Valjean Wainwright, motherfucker, and I run this bitch.
I bring my hands together in front of me and discreetly press the Golem on my bracelet. I’m sure Rowan already did, but just in case. Then I fiddle some more, wringing my hands together, inching away from Rowan bit by bit. Carter takes his eyes off me, glancing at Rowan and Chase.
Chase shifts on his feet. “I’m sorry you got mixed up in this, Em.”
She’s scared, but steady. Impressive. “All in a day’s work,” she jokes, voice reedy.
Chase chuckles, “Perhaps the owner of the bistro will hire you to renovate.”
Carter stomps his foot, like the big baby that he is, and screams, “SHUT UP! I’m gonna shoot you and you’re making jokes?”
Releasing my breath slowly, I slide my hand along my waistband to the small of my back. My fingers wrap around the stock of the gun. Before Carter can take a breath, the gun is up, and my finger is pulling the trigger. Hole in his forehead, he drops to the ground. Em rushes toward us, Chase enveloping her in his arms and moving to a table further in the back. I stand motionless, watching the blood trickle down his temple to the floor.
“Oomph!” Rowan’s arms band around me tightly, lifting me into the air.
“Baby! How the hell did you do that? I took you to the range twice!”
“Well, see what had happened was…” I start, a nervous giggle escaping. I can’t finish my sentence as a debilitating coldness descends over my entire body. My vision tunnels and I know I’m shaking violently.
“You’re in shock, Steve. Baby?” his voice fades as my vision darkens.
I’m a murderer.