Chapter 36
CHAPTER
THIRTY-SIX
KING
It’s been a few days since I’ve returned to the clubhouse.
I haven’t felt like being with my own brothers, so instead, I’ve been hiding out in my room, fucking Shawn every minute possible.
It’s time for me to finally talk to Atomic.
We need to have a serious conversation, and I hate everything about it.
I wish it didn’t have to happen, that we could just move the fuck past it, but I know I won’t be able to, not until my voice is heard and he tells me why the fuck he did what he did, the way he did.
Forcing myself out of bed, I slowly make my way toward his office. He’s exactly where I thought he would be in the middle of the afternoon—behind his desk. I have to give him that. Atomic works his ass off at that desk. I would lose my fucking mind if I sat there as much as he does.
Standing in the doorway, I lean against the doorjamb. Watching him for a moment. I know he senses me. He’s just avoiding me. Something he does just as well as I do. I’ve known him for as long as I can remember. I know every single fucking move he’s going to make before he makes it.
“We should talk,” I state as I move into the room.
I close the door behind me and sink down in the chair across from his desk with a groan. Closing my eyes for just a moment, I breathe. I’m getting better each day, but I really fucked up by leaving the hospital early and reinjuring myself.
Slowly, I open my eyes, and only then does Atomic lift his head from his papers. I watch as he takes me in. When he does, he winces at the sight of me. I’m sure I look fucking awful. I don’t look as bad as I did, but I don’t look good either.
“We should,” he agrees.
“I’m still pissed.”
Atomic nods his head once. “I know. I told you my hands were tied, and they were. I’m still dealing with the fallout.”
“If it was Ryan?” I ask.
I’m fucking pissed that he’s still repeating himself. I want to beat the absolute shit out of him right now. I don’t. Not only would both Doc and Shawn be pissed if I hurt myself again, it wouldn’t be worth it. Atomic is as stubborn as I am.
“Ryan was here recently. Asked for my protection.”
Arching a brow, I watch him and wait for the rest of his statement. It comes. Though it’s not what I expect at all.
“I told her no. She’s not my old lady. She’s not protected any longer. Which is something she knew when she walked away from me.”
Pressing my lips into a thin line, I wonder what the fuck he’s thinking. Ryan is his Shawn. If Shawn left me tomorrow, I’d be hurt, but if she ever needed my protection, I’m pretty sure I would give it to her. Maybe not immediately after she walked away, but it’s been years.
Fuck, maybe he’s still angry.
“Shawn was under my protection, though,” I point out. “She was my old lady.”
He dips his chin in a nod but obviously isn’t going to be issuing any apologies for wrongdoings. I don’t hold that against him because I would feel the exact same way. He made his decision, and he’s sticking by it.
“What’s the fallout from blowing up the Nomad Kings?” I ask, slightly changing subjects.
I don’t want to change the subject, but I also don’t want to get into the shit with him and Ryan. The less I know, the better when it comes to their shitstorm, I think. Although, I make a mental note to check on her after I’m all healed up.
“Their women. Their hookers, all without protection or pimps. What do we do with them?”
“We?” I ask.
He nods his head, “We,” he says. “I got a stable of thirty that I can’t do anything with, plus they got customers, and that fucking club has suppliers for their own little drug sale shit they got. What do I do with all of this?”
“Walk away?” I ask. “Not your fuckin’ responsibility.”
He nods his head, his eyes finding mine as he leans back in his chair. “If only it were that easy. Those bitches got nothing. They were totally fucking dependent on fucking Shade and his group of jackasses. This is what they do. This is their life. They got bills to pay, and they need protection.”
“You’re not suggesting…” My words trail off because I don’t want to think about them.
“I am,” he states simply. “Plus, don’t forget, I got Poison tied up waiting for whatever the fuck you want to do with her, too.”
“That one is easy. She’s dead.”
He dips his chin in a single nod. “We can’t just walk away from those girls. They are counting on protection. They are innocent in this, and the customer base for drugs, that could come in handy.”
I want to tell him that my woman was counting on my protection, too, and he couldn’t fucking deliver that. My dad had to come down here with his men to make that shit fucking happen. I want to say a lot of shit, but I bite my tongue.
Shaking my head, I run my fingers through my hair. “I’m not a pimp. I’m not a bodyguard. None of us are. We’re just starting our transportation company. We cannot take this endeavor on. We do not have the manpower to protect thirty pros. You need to find them new pimps if that’s what you want.”
Atomic slams his hand on the desk, then leans forward. “That’s it,” he snaps. “Great fuckin’ idea.”
“What?”
He nods his head a couple of times. “We diversify. When we bring other clubs in, we give one of them the protection aspect of these women. There’s a club in Kilgore that’s been affiliated for years.
They’re good guys. This would do well for them.
Plus, it would be a hell of a lot of money for the club. ”
Better them than us.
“You want to patch them over completely and put them in charge of the Nomad Kings’ whores and dope?” I ask.
He nods his head. “I think it’ll work. They’ve been trying to do some runs and make it, but they need something steady to make it and grow.”
Atomic is probably right. He seems much lighter as he stands from his chair and leans over the desk, his gaze focused on mine.
“I’m ready to get Poison out of my fucking hair, too. Want to deal with that right now and be done with it.”
“She give you any information?” I ask.
“None that was useful or that we didn’t figure out on our own. She isn’t the brightest bulb. Great at giving head, but not too smart.”
“So she’s useless?” I ask.
He nods his head. “Just the fact that she’s your woman’s half sister, if that means anything. It’s up to you on that front. I got no use for her here at the clubhouse, though.”
I snort. “That doesn’t mean fuck all. That bitch didn’t give two fucks about Shawn. In fact, she was more than happy to get rid of her for good. She’s going the fuck down.”
“I was hoping you’d say that. I didn’t have a place for her with that kind of betrayal, and honestly, I couldn’t see just letting her leave here freely.”
Laughing, I grip the arms of the chair and push myself to standing. I follow behind him, and we head straight for the holding room. She’s sitting in a chair, tied up, and I wonder if the Nomad Kings were necessarily wrong for having a cage.
Although, I think I’d like it even better if we had something on the ceiling so I could string this bitch up.
She lifts her head when we walk into the room, and when her eyes find mine, they brighten.
I’m not sure what she thinks I’m going to do for her, but the only thing that’s happening here is her throat being slit.
I don’t want any other part of her. I don’t want to hear her speak, and I sure as shit do not want to fuck her ever again.
“King,” she purrs.
Shaking my head slowly, I move closer to her, taking my knife out of the sheath in my belt. I lean forward, wrap my fingers around the handle, and hold it at my thigh. “No more talking, Poison. Your name suits you, you know that?” Her lips part, but I smirk as I watch her. “You fucked up.”
“She’ll make you miserable.”
“No, that’s where you’re wrong. You breathing makes me fucking miserable. Shawn, I love.”
And without another word, I shift my hand forward and slide the knife across her throat. Her blood sprays across my face as I watch the light leave her eyes, but I realize that it isn’t light at all. Nothing about this woman was light.
Shawn is light.
This bitch was the dark.
And now she’s exactly where she belongs, and after a shower, I’m going to go back up to my room, where I belong.
SHAWN
I bite my bottom lip as I stand in the center of my bakery. I was gaining traction for one full day before that asshole of a man who claimed to be my father tried to take it all away from me. Glancing around the space, I can’t help but feel slightly defeated.
I shake myself out of the complete devastation and decide there is only one thing left to do. I have to get my shit together. I haven’t lost so much traction that I can’t make it back up. One good farmers’ market is all I need again.
There is a knock on the door, and it slowly opens. I turn my head and gasp at the sight of my brother as he moves into the room. I want to tell him to leave, but I can’t. I’m frozen where I am, wondering why he’s here and what he could possibly want.
“I just wanted to let you know that me and Mom are leaving Pineville,” he says. “Dad called right before whatever went down went down. We got to his compound in time to see the fire department putting out the last of the flames.”
“So that’s why you’re leaving?” I ask.
I don’t know why I’m asking anything. What I should do is tell him to have fun and walk away.
Their leaving does nothing except relieve me, so why I’m asking him for details, I do not know.
He tilts his head to the side, his eyes finding mine, and for a split second, I find the boy he once was in his gaze.
“It’s time for us to go. There’s nothing here anymore.”
“But with him, with that building, there was?” I ask.
He nods his head once. “There was hope that he would let me in, that I could make something of myself here. Not any longer. The Cotton last name is stained in Pineville. You’d do good to marry that biker you’re fucking and change your name.”
I open my mouth to respond, but instead, a deep voice murmurs, and it vibrates throughout the room.
“You might want to reword your little speech,” the deep voice says.
Shifting my attention to that voice, I can’t help the smile that plays on my lips at the sight of him. My man, not just some guy I’m fucking, but my man. I love him. The sight of him, the feel, the presence. I love everything about him.
“I’m out of here. Have a nice life, Shawn.”
Without another word or an opportunity for me to respond, he turns and walks out of the bakery. He brushes past Elvis, who is still at the door and does not budge as he does. After my brother makes his way out of the building, Elvis closes and locks the door behind him. Then he turns to face me.
“He came here to tell me that he and my mother are moving,” I say.
Elvis dips his chin in a single nod. “Noticed that the bed of the truck was filled with shit. Hoped that’s what was going on.”
“I feel relieved,” I whisper.
His lips curve up into a grin, and he dips his chin once. He doesn’t say anything as I move closer to him. He moves toward me, closing the distance between us. I stop in front of him and place my hands on his chest as I tip my head backward to look up into his eyes.
“I love you, Elvis,” I say.
“And I, you,” he mutters.
He releases my cheeks and reaches down, grabbing hold of my ass and picking me up. I wrap my legs around his waist, and he moves us around so he’s pressing me against the wall. His lips touch mine, his tongue sliding across the seam of my own.
He breaks the kiss, then lifts his head and looks into my eyes. “You good with them leaving?” he asks.
“So good,” I exhale.
He hums but doesn’t say anything else as he cups my cheek. Then something happens. I don’t expect it. He leans forward and touches his lips to mine before he murmurs against my mouth.
“Poison is gone. Your family is gone. Nothing can get between us or in our way, sweetness. You’re going to make this bakery fucking famous, and I’m going to watch it all unfold.”
He slams his mouth against mine, his tongue slips inside, and he tastes me. Every worry I ever had, every second of stress, all the thoughts about my family. It all disappears. He’s kissing me, he’s holding me, and I am at peace.