Chapter 14
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
RYAN
Grover moves around the house. He’s taking in the pantry and the fridge, making announcements about how we need to go shopping. I forgot how much he enjoyed cooking. It’s clear to me now, though, as he starts calling out things we’re missing and he wants to get from the store.
This man cooks.
I don’t.
So Adam is going to be very surprised when the menu isn’t limited to eggs, pancakes, tacos, and spaghetti on rotation.
“Adam,” Grover calls out.
I hear his feet slapping against the floor before I see him. He rounds the corner and skids to a stop in front of us, tilting his head back. But he doesn’t look at me. I don’t exist when Grover is in the room. He has all of Adam’s attention.
I’m okay with that.
It’s sweet, and I’m not sure it should, but my guilt eases slightly. But only slightly, because I’m still a big fat liar. Biting the inside of my cheek, I watch as Grover crouches down in front of Adam, his eyes focused on his as he asks him what he would like to eat from the store.
“I don’t know,” Adam murmurs. “Fruit snacks?”
Laughing, I lift my hand to my lips. Grover lifts his gaze to meet mine. “Fruit snacks?” he asks.
“He’s a kid,” I say. “He loves fruit snacks, any snacks really. I think he would eat only that if I let him.”
Grover grunts. There is a moment of silence, then he stands. “Fruit snacks,” he grumbles.
I can’t help myself as I laugh at him being so annoyed by those two words. As if he can’t comprehend that anyone would like those chewy little things.
Although, I probably would feel the same way if I hadn’t been desperate a few times and had a package when I was starving hungry and there was nothing else. When you’re hungry enough, they are delicious.
“I’m going to head to the natural grocery store. I’ll have one of the brothers come over and watch the house, but I’m sure you have unpacking and things to do.”
I.e., he doesn’t want us to join him on this shopping trip.
I’m okay with that because I don’t have money to spend at a natural grocery store, or any other store for that matter.
I need to look for a job and try to figure out how to get said job without giving anyone any of my personal information that Golden Joker could use to try and find me.
I’m not sure how I’m going to get something for cash under the table.
I guess I could try and work behind the bar at the clubhouse, maybe clean it for some money, too.
But the thought of being down there day in and day out, of seeing all the sex…
more importantly, the sex between Grover and the whores, I don’t think I could live with myself or with him if I did that.
He leaves with a promise to bring not only groceries but also lunch back with him. I’m not sure how long I stand in the kitchen after he’s gone. Adam runs around to his bedroom, and I hear him playing with his cars on the floor, something he could do uninterrupted for hours.
I’m not quite sure what to do. I could unpack my suitcase, but I don’t want to sit around this house and wait for Grover to come back. I need a job, and I need it now. There is no way I can even attempt to afford to pay Grover back for any of this without an income.
Sucking in a deep breath, I hold it for a moment, then let it out slowly.
It’s not just the house either. It’s the kitchen stuff, the sofa, the televisions, the beds.
Sure, it’s all the basics, except for the televisions.
There is a big screen in the living room, and the one in the bedroom isn’t anything to sneeze at either.
Walking into the bedroom, I grab my purse and call out for Adam to come with me. He does without an ounce of complaint, used to me calling out to him to go somewhere. A few moments later, we have the house locked and are in my car, headed… somewhere.
I haven’t been in Pineville for six years other than a few weeks ago when I was here trying to get Grover’s help.
But I didn’t stick around long enough to really take in the place.
I have no idea what’s changed, and as I really look at the businesses that line the main street through town, I realize a lot has changed.
But nothing that I’ve come across is a business that would hire me for cash under the table. Then I remember King’s parents’ bar. I’m sure he would hate it if I worked for them. He never really had a good relationship with them.
Not that I blame him for it. They were pretty awful in general, but they are the kind of people who wouldn’t question my need to work for cash. Heading toward downtown, I am surprised at how bright and clean it all feels.
There are green trees, even flowers lining the streets, and as I make my way to the bar, I pull in front and notice that it’s not a bar any longer. In fact, it’s the exact opposite of a seedy bar. It’s a bakery.
And when I lift my gaze to the neon sign in the window, I know exactly who owns said bakery. My initial reaction is to back away and speed off. But I bite the inside of my cheek and do the exact opposite of my knee-jerk reaction.
Turning the car off, I look in the rearview mirror and ask Adam if he wants some dessert for tonight.
“Yesssss,” he says with a hiss.
Together, we climb out of the car and head into the cute bakery. I don’t know how this sweet woman is King’s wife, but she is, and it boggles my mind. The bell rings above the door as we walk into the shop. There is a woman standing at the counter paying for her box of goodies.
Grasping Adam’s hand, I squeeze it as I hold him back slightly because I know him. He’s going to rush that glass case without a care of who is standing around him when those treats come into his view.
“Thank you,” Shawn calls out to the woman as she turns and walks out of the store.
Only when I hear the bell ring with her exit do I release my grip on Adam’s hand. He does exactly what I knew he would. He runs straight for the part of the display that holds the cupcakes.
Happily oohing and aahing as he stares at all the gorgeously decorated cupcakes in soft, muted tones and colors. They look too good to eat, and yet, I want them all because I know this woman knows how to bake a mean cupcake.
“Ryan,” she calls out, her eyes flicking behind me as if she’s looking for someone to be there.
“Shawn. We were out driving around and came across your shop,” I say, only halfway lying.
Her brows furrow as she flicks her gaze from me to Adam, then back to me before she speaks.
“I thought you were under guard,” she murmurs.
Shrugging a shoulder, I clear my throat. “I guess I’m supposed to be? I don’t know. Grover left for the store and told me he would send someone over, but we left.”
The expression of concern deepens as she continues to watch me for a long, silent moment.
I can tell she’s thinking. She’s not sure she should even say anything, but she decides to stick her nose in anyway.
I can’t say I wouldn’t do the same. My lips twitch into a small smile as she leans forward over her counter a bit.
“Ryan, don’t you think you should maybe have waited for your guard to watch you? I’m nervous about you being alone anywhere right now.”
She’s not wrong. It’s scary as hell. Shrugging a shoulder, I try to act like I don’t give a shit. I do, but I pretend.
“Honestly?” I rasp. “I was looking for work.”
She shifts her gaze over to Adam, then back to meet mine. “Work?”
Dipping my chin in a single nod, I give her half a smile.
It’s all that I can muster. “I had an okay job as a school secretary, but I can’t do anything that would require me to work aboveboard anymore.
I was actually looking for King’s parents’ bar because I knew they were shady enough to let me work under the table for cash. ”
Shawn’s eyes widen, and her tongue peeks out before it slides across her bottom lip.
“I’ve been dying here by myself,” she says.
“I have grown but haven’t hired any help, and I need it.
I can’t pay a ton, and you’d be washing dishes and cleaning.
It’s early in the morning, sometimes late at night.
It’s not much, but you’d be here with me. ”
I could tell her no. I would probably make more in tips at a bar or something, but this is a hell of a lot safer. Even if it would mean that I would have to work decades to pay Grover back. But it’s honest, it’s safer, and it smells heavenly.
“I’m in,” I say with a single nod.
Shawn’s lips curve up into a grin. “Yay,” she cries.
ATOMIC
I’ve never been jealous. Not of my blood brother, not of my brothers, not of anyone—ever.
Except when I walked into that bedroom and saw my woman with Brew.
I wanted to kill him right then and there even though I knew he wasn’t and never would do anything with her.
It didn’t matter. It was the goddamn principle of the matter.
Walking toward my bike, I watch as two of the men climb into the truck. It’s Gnaw and Piston. Obviously, we are all done fucking around with this dick. I hear King’s bike roar up behind me. Turning my head, I jerk my chin toward him.
“Ready?” I call out.
“Never more.”
The truck moves forward with a lurch, and I follow behind, King to my side. Together, we follow the truck until we arrive at the warehouses. The pallets are ready for us to pick up. I smile at the sight of them, but I’m alert and waiting for this motherfucker to appear.
King surveys one side of the truck and building while I take the other. I look hard, almost hoping to see someone make their way toward me.
I am ready to end this fucker.
He touched Ryan, he marked her body, and had I known he’d done what he did, I would have killed his ass right then and there outside of the hospital, security cameras be damned.
Ryan isn’t someone who should have ever been on his radar.
Ellen also needs to be taken care of in a way that is fucking permanent.
“I don’t see shit,” King grunts.
I open my mouth to say the exact same thing, except I do see someone. It’s not who I expect to see, though. It’s not Ellen or Golden, whatever the fuck his pimp name is. It’s Nash fucking Stanley.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” King grunts as his father slowly makes his way toward us.
From a distance, the man doesn’t appear to be in his early sixties. He’s still strong and tall, his hair only slightly graying. But as his gaze cuts to us, it’s clear he is fucking here on business. Fucking hell.
“I got a bone to pick with you,” Nash calls out, lifting his hand and extending his finger to point directly at me.
“The fuck?” I hiss.
His lips twitch into a smirk, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. I’m not sure what the fuck is going on here, but it’s a weird-as-fuck place to have any kind of conversation, especially with Nash Stanley, who lives more than just a couple of hours away all the way down on the fucking Gulf Coast.
“We got too much goddamn work down south. And it’s not the fun kind like the guys have in Kilgore with hookers.”
King chuckles, and my gaze cuts to him. He shrugs a shoulder. “I told you he was getting too hot to run a stable.”
“I’m too old for this other shit. I need something easy breezy.”
I almost laugh at the word easy breezy being combined with a stable of bitches. Because there is nothing easy or breezy about that. Arching a brow, I watch him for a moment.
“What’s the real deal?” King asks his father.
“Corpus is boring as fuck. I thought I wanted to retire, but I really don’t. Now that we’re getting back into club business a bit more, I want in.”
“In?” I ask.
Nash jerks his chin, his gaze shifting from King to me. “Yeah, in. I’m ready to diversify a bit more.”
“Skin isn’t something we really want to promote on a regular basis. We took over those women as a means of protecting them, although it does benefit us quite nicely. But adding more, I don’t think it’s something we’re really looking into,” I explain.
Nash doesn’t take my words in at all. In fact, I think I can actually see them as they roll off his back.
I almost laugh, but I don’t because this man was my president before I was president.
This man is fucking respected. He helped start this club, and I will always, always take him seriously in a way where he will always feel respected.
“Strip club,” he barks.
His voice is harsh. I blink, but I don’t say anything else immediately. “A strip club?” I ask.
Nash hums at the same time King laughs behind me. “They make a fuckton of money,” Nash informs me as if I don’t know this. I’ve spent my fair share of cash in a fucking strip joint in my day.
“They do,” I agree.
“And they are an easy way to sell whatever needs selling without anyone really paying much attention, especially since the police down there are already on my dime. Plus, they ain’t worried about what the fuck we’re doing. They got bigger problems than us.”
“Shit,” I murmur. “You’ve thought about this.”
Nash jerks his chin in a single nod. “Damn fucking straight, I have.”
“Then let’s take it to a vote. We’re done here anyway. Meet at the clubhouse?”
Nobody says anything. We all just start our engines or make our way to our vehicles, and then together, we take off. The truck heads on toward its destination, and those of us on our bikes head to the clubhouse.
Fuck, another goddamn new venture. I don’t know if I should be annoyed or if I should be grateful I’m going to be getting some more cash. Because I know a strip club is going to bring in some legit coin.
Fuck me.
It’s never-ending.