Chapter 24 Willow
WILLOW
In the next few days, I seek out more opportunities to use my new position and wealth to fuck with Olivia.
It’s just small things here and there, things Vic recommends from his research, but it does feel really good to be doing something against her.
To be making consistent moves and making sure my grandmother knows we’re not backing down.
On top of that, I feel better than I have since the guys got me back.
It’s not an overnight fix, but the knowledge that I’ve made progress seems to set off a kind of domino effect. It reminds me that I’m not hopelessly broken, so on those mornings when I wake up in tears or a cold sweat from a nightmare, it doesn’t feel like the end of the world.
I’m still struggling in some ways, and there are still times when I wake up in the middle of the night gasping for breath, so sure that I’m still in that tiny little hole in the floor Troy used to force me into.
But then one of the guys will wake up and soothe me back to sleep, or Malice will snore, and it’ll remind me that I’m safe.
That I’m with them, and they’re not going to abandon me because I’m not fixed yet.
It feels like being on more solid footing, and I’m so fucking grateful for that.
I’m no longer anyone’s victim. Troy got what was coming to him, and I’m not just a pawn in Olivia’s games.
I’m playing in her world, making moves that force her to see me as an equal, and I’m doing it on my own terms. I stole the wealth of the man I was forced to marry, and now I’m using it to build the life for myself I always wanted.
Not the one I thought I wanted or the life I assumed I should want, but the one I truly want.
A life where I get to call the shots and do things that make me happy. A life surrounded by three men who love me unconditionally, whose support and unwavering love make me feel like I could do anything.
I’m finally starting to feel that strength that they always say they see in me, and it makes me feel good.
So I’m smiling as I take the elevator down to the building’s garage, humming a little under my breath.
Ransom has been down here for the last couple of hours, working on his new bike. It’s a shiny blue Ducati, and I can tell he’s thrilled to have replaced his old one.
He glances up when he sees me approach, wiping grease off his hands on a dirty rag.
“What are you grinning about, pretty girl?” he asks.
That just makes my smile stretch wider as I come over. “Nothing, really. Just in a good mood.”
“I like to see you smiling.” He reaches out and pulls me closer, kissing me lightly.
His lips feel good against mine, the way they always do. Soft and tender, with just that edge of desire that promises it could be something more if we both wanted it to turn into that. I savor it, enjoying the way I can melt against him now more easily than before.
“How’s it going down here?” I ask him, pulling back and trailing a hand over the shiny surface of the bike.
“Good. It’s coming along well. I was gonna go pick up a part for the bike soon.”
“Isn’t it new?”
“Yeah, but I mostly wanted it for the shell, if that makes sense. I always fiddle with the guts of a bike to make everything a little better. I’m overhauling this one to really open it up.”
I nod along with him, even though I’m only sort of following what he means. “Ah, right. That makes sense.”
Ransom grins, seeing right through me. “Do you wanna come along for the ride?” He waggles his eyebrows at me.
“Yes,” I say immediately. It’s been a while since I’ve been on the back of a bike with Ransom, and it’s one of my favorite things in the world.
He flicks his tongue piercing between his teeth as he grins wider, clearly pleased with that response. “Cool. When we get back, I’ll show you how to install the part.”
“I like the sound of that.”
He puts away his tools and closes up the panel in the bike he had opened, then swings his leg over the seat. He pats the spot behind him.
“Hop on, angel.”
A flutter of excitement fills my stomach as I climb onto the motorcycle, wrapping my arms around his waist. Ransom revs the bike a few times and then peels out of the garage, taking us out onto the road.
I’m sure no one who lives in this section of the city is used to motorcycles tearing down the road, but Ransom doesn’t seem to care.
He speeds along, and the wind rushing by feels amazing, whipping my hair around my face.
It takes me back to the first time he took me out, after I showed up at their warehouse late one night.
I was so nervous about it then, but the exhilaration won me over.
We don’t head to an auto parts shop, but instead go farther into the city, closer to where the guys used to live. We pull up to an old, worn looking garage, and Ransom cuts the engine and helps me off the bike.
“Stick close,” he murmurs to me.
I was already planning on it, but I take a step even closer, and he wraps an arm around me, tugging me against his side. As soon as we walk in, it’s clear that the people who hang around this place know Ransom well.
“Voronin. Haven’t seen you around here in a while,” a burly man in his mid-forties says, shoving back his shoulder length hair as he strides over. “You been getting parts from somewhere else?”
Ransom snorts. “Never, Luis. We’ve just been busy. Haven’t been doing much bodywork or chopping lately.”
Luis grunts in response. His gaze flicks to me, but it darts away when Ransom stiffens slightly, his arm tightening around me in a possessive gesture. It’s clear he’s staked his claim, and Luis clearly doesn’t want to piss him off, because he doesn’t look at me again as the two of them talk shop.
“I’m working on a new Ducati, and I need some forks,” Ransom says. “I’m going for high-performance, so I need something with adjustable damping and preload settings. What’ve you got for me?”
Everything he said sounded like gibberish to me, but Luis nods.
“Yeah, I think I can help you with that. We’ve got some new forks we pulled off a shiny red thing we brought in last week.
” He brings us into the back of the shop, where he digs out a few parts and shows them to Ransom. “Will those do the trick?”
Ransom nods. “Yeah, this’ll be great. How much?”
They haggle over the price, going back and forth. It’s not heated, but it’s clear both of them know what they’re doing and what they’re willing to give.
“Deal,” Luis finally says. He holds out a hand, and instead of shaking it, Ransom finally releases his hold on me long enough to pull out several large bills and slap them into Luis’s palm.
“A pleasure as always,” Ransom tells the man with a nod. “Come on, angel.”
He takes the parts the man offers him, then jerks his head toward the door, and we head out.
“That was… interesting,” I tell him as we go.
He snorts. “That’s business. Well, business on this side of the tracks, at least. Luis gets parts in from chop shops—or wherever, really—and then he sells them for his own prices. Or trades them for other things. We worked with him a lot, back in the day. But he’s right. It’s been a while.”
He leads the way back to his bike, popping open the under-seat storage compartment so he can stow the parts he just bought.
Off to the side of the garage, I hear several men laughing, followed by the sound of shattering glass.
It makes me jump, and I half turn to see if I can figure out where the noise is coming from.
Bang!
A loud shot rings out, and I feel something graze past my arm.
Time almost seems to slow down. It only takes me a second to figure out that the sound I just heard was a gunshot, but Ransom is faster than me. He wraps his fingers around my arm, yanking me out of the way of the next shot.
“Motherfucker! Get down, angel!”
We use the bike for cover, huddling behind it, and I can see a car speeding by down the street, more gunshots echoing as it goes past.
The bullets ping into the bike, hitting the metal with loud sounds, popping the tires, leaving it a mess.
My heart is going a mile a minute, my entire body tense and on edge as my fight-or-flight response kicks in. The car peels off down the street, rounding a corner with a screech of tires. As soon as it’s out of sight, Ransom leaps into action.
“Stay close,” he mutters, and this time, it sounds much more serious than when he said it just a few minutes ago. “They could come back for another shot at us.”
Luis and his men are emerging from the garage, all armed with weapons, but Ransom doesn’t stop to talk to them. Pulling out his own gun from the under-seat compartment, he shoves it into the waistband of his pants and then grabs my arm, standing up and dragging me behind him.
We dart between buildings and down alleyways, staying off the main streets, and my stomach swoops sickeningly as vivid memories of sprinting to try to evade Troy’s Jeep in Mexico fill my mind.
By the time Ransom finally stops running, I’ve lost track of where we are entirely.
He pulls me into the doorway alcove of an abandoned looking building, glancing up and down the street before pulling out his phone to make a call.
“Vic,” he says as soon as his brother picks up.
“I’m with Willow, down by Luis’s place. Someone just fucking shot at us.
” He grimaces, baring his teeth. “I don’t know who.
I didn’t get a good look at them. But my bike is fucked, and we need to get out of—” He breaks off, listening to something Vic is saying. “Yeah, alright. That works.”
He sounds pissed as he talks to Vic, one hand still wrapped around my forearm. It’s a good thing he hasn’t let go, really. His almost bruising grip on me is keeping me grounded, holding the fluttery feelings of panic at bay.
It’s not even the first time someone has shot at me or around me, but that was a close call. A bullet grazed my arm, and if it hadn’t been for Ransom’s quick reaction…
I don’t want to think about that.