Chapter 23 #2
We walk down the hallway, looking like we own the place, but that’s exactly how I wanted us to come into this.
We don’t need the club thinking they can push us around just because Damien isn’t here.
We’re careful not to make eye contact either, because I don’t want one of the members to take that as an invitation.
Shockingly, no one tries to stop us as we make our way further inside.
I figured they would, since tensions are still so high between us and them from when Damien shot Viking, but I’ll take the easy way in regardless.
Once we reach Grease’s office, Alex and Zeke open the doors for me to walk through.
It feels kind of pretentious for a second, but I’m not going to lie, it makes me feel a little powerful as Daisy patters inside next to me.
I have two large men who are ready to fight, a dog who will do the same, and enough anger and resentment to fuel a mutiny charging in my chest. It feels pretty damn good.
The moment I enter, Viking leaves his chair in the corner to stand next to Grease.
He still looks intimidating with his burly size and wrestler-like muscles.
His shoulders are covered by a T-shirt and his vest, so I can’t see the scars that Damien and Grease left for him, but I’m sure they’re there.
Grease turns his gaze to the door and pays no attention to the woman on his lap—even as she cowers.
“Ashia? This is a shock.” Grease sits up and taps the girl on the leg like he wants her to get up, but she doesn’t.
She just fists his shirt and tucks her head down like I’ll start to hit her or something.
I kind of feel bad, but I don’t even glance in her direction, because she’s obviously not in any danger. Not with me, anyway.
“I would like a word with you. Alone,” I demand, looking at him directly.
I’m careful not to drift my gaze to Viking for multiple reasons.
First, he was a jackass the last time I was here.
I tried to warn him about what Damien would do to him if he forced me into that truck, but he didn’t listen.
Then, he wanted to cause a rift in the relationship between our two groups because he fucked up.
Secondly, I don’t want him to know that I’m going to question Grease about him. That’s a conversation I know won’t go over well, and I don’t have the time or patience to care about his feelings.
“I don’t think so,” Viking says as he reaches for his belt, but stops once Grease holds his hand up.
“I’ll give you a few minutes,” Grease agrees and turns his attention to the woman on his lap.
“Anda y sal de aquí, mujer.” She nods, gets up, and walks out without issue.
Her gaze doesn’t even leave the floor as she walks past, and something tells me she’s a usual ‘sweet butt.’ Zeke and Alex hold the door for her and turn to us—waiting on Viking to do the same.
Grease turns his attention to him, like he’s having to direct a child.
“Haz lo que te digo, hijo de puta. Aquí, no tenemos problemas.”
Viking glances at Grease with a look I can’t quite decipher.
There’s anger there, like they have a lot of unresolved problems, but there’s also some worry mixed in.
I imagine he’s afraid we’re here to hurt him after everything we’ve done the past six days, but that’s not the case.
He glares at me as he walks out, but I'm sure to keep my eyes ahead—not wanting to show him any weakness. Grease’s posture instantly relaxes the moment the doors close, and it’s just the two of us.
“You look good, mama. How you feeling?” He nods to me, gesturing to my stomach. I grin at him and look down, noticing how my eighteen-week belly is still visible regardless of the vest.
“Good, thanks. I hope you're doing well,” I reply as I look back at him.
“Better than we were.”
“That’s good to hear.” I look up to the corner of the room to see a security camera. I raise a brow, curious as to why he would need it in his own office, but I don’t ask that question. “Does that work?” I point to it instead.
“Yeah, but only I have access,” he reassures me, like I’m supposed to believe that.
“Turn it off,” I demand, and he squints his eyes at me.
His face tells me that it’s not about the demand, though.
He’s curious. For some reason, he already trusts me, and we’ve barely spoken to one another.
I suppose I can thank Damien for that as well.
“I need to be sure this stays between us. That’s all.
” He nods once and types away on his keyboard, and when he dips his chin again, I see the red light on the camera turn off.
“What’s going on?” he questions, and crosses his arms across his chest.
“I need your help,” I say a little softer, but there’s an edge to it that I didn’t expect. I’m not just assuming he’ll help me or anything, but there’s also not a reason for him to deny me.
“Come on now, you're not trying to run off into the sunset alone, are ya?”
My body runs hot at his question. The fire that’s been burning inside of me since Damien went missing is something that I can’t control, and he doesn’t know that he’s pushing the wrong buttons.
I understand that he helps abused women escape violent situations, but it pisses me off that he would insinuate something like that about Damien.
Whether he’s joking or not, it rubs me the wrong way.
“Damien’s missing,” I say pointedly, and his friendly smirk slowly disappears. “So, fuck your bullshit assumption.”
“I'm sorry. It was a joke. A bad one, obviously. How long?”
“Two weeks,” I tell him, and his face turns stern, like he’s actually concerned.
“I know you have scouts and lookouts all around the city. We can’t find anything.
We can’t find his bike, or any evidence of him around town after he left the Attic.
Would you please check with your surveyors and ask that they send you anything weird from September first?
Just…don't tell your men why, or make something up. I don't want things between our groups getting any worse.” He nods again, instantly agreeing to my request, and I lay a piece of paper on his desk. “It has my info as well as Carter’s. Just send everything to us.” He takes the paper and pockets it.
While normally that would give me a warning signal, I believe Grease will actually make use of it.
“Your men wouldn’t have done this. Would they? ”
He quickly shakes his head.
“Nah. Tensions are high, but they're not stupid.”
“What about Viking?”
He freezes for a moment, and a doubt blooms in his eyes, but then it fades away just as quickly.
“No, he couldn’t. He hasn’t been allowed away from me since he’s been back, and he hasn’t had the time. I’ve been keeping him busy and under watch.”
“But do you think he would've done something to Damien if he had the chance?” I ask seriously, and Grease locks onto a single place on his desk. It’s clear that he’s really considering the possibility with his firm face and creased lips, but after a few moments of thinking it over, he decides on a reply.
“No. He's really more upset at himself than anything. His anger towards Damien is misplaced. He just doesn't know how to deal with the guilt.” His answer shows conviction, and I can see that he really believes that Viking wouldn't do this. I nod at him and try like hell to keep my composure. This would be so much simpler if it was Viking that took Damien, but obviously, we’re not that lucky in this life. “What about this new group that joined you? A few of my guys say they’re Sahara?”
“What about them?” I stare at him and keep my gaze strong, not wanting to go into too much detail too quickly.
“Can’t they help you?”
“I'm not asking for shit from Satori.” Stronger flutters roll around in my belly, so I take one of the empty chairs and sit opposite of him. Daisy sits between my legs and stands tall to stare at Grease over the desk. He narrows his eyes again in genuine confusion.
“Why not?”
“I don’t like him. Which I know sounds stupid, but even if I wanted his help, I’m not sure he would give it. We’ve let him help with some day-to-day tasks, but I don’t want him involved in anything more than that. He kept trying to convince us that Damien left on his own, and—”
Grease rears back like someone lunged at him. His shock actually takes me by surprise.
“Why the fuck would he think that?”
“Exactly!” I throw my hands forward, feeling relieved that someone outside of Damien’s immediate circle doesn’t believe that either.
“Satori doesn’t fucking know him. He would never leave like that.
” I lay back slightly and press my hand over the top of the gymnast doing summersaults in my body.
At least, that’s what I imagine with all of the bubbles and rumbling I feel.
“Even on the extremely off chance Damien left me, he wouldn’t leave his men.
” Or our baby, I think, but I keep that to myself.
He looks at me with somber eyes and sits back in his chair. His bottom lip moves between his teeth, like he’s contemplating on saying something, and then he takes a deep breath.
“My son is two months old,” Grease admits, and I find myself focusing on his words more than I did before.
“Me and his mom don’t get along most of the time, and she regrets ever laying with me, but she loves our son.
I’d die for that woman, and I don’t love her.
” He scrunches his face like it’s an unwilling reaction, almost as if he hates what he just said.
I have no idea who his son's mother is, but I'm assuming by his tone and the pain on his face that there's a long story there. “D ran through a field of gunfire to get to you, and that was before you even knew you were pregnant. He wouldn’t leave you either, mama. Believe that.”
Warmth fills my chest for the first time in days, and I sink into the chair to soak it in. Damien’s love for me has never been in question, and it’s relieving to hear someone else agree with that.
“I do.” I smile faintly, and he nods at me as he smiles back.
“I’ll get on it and have everything sent within the hour.” He reaches out and grabs his phone.
“Thanks, Grease. Can I ask one more thing?”
He stops typing and looks back up at me.
“Of course.”
“Some of Sahara’s men have been put into our field rotations. Can your guys also keep an eye out? It’s not that I don’t trust them, per se, but I just want to make sure they’re doing what they’re supposed to be doing, and not what Satori tells them to.”
“Sure. What do you want us to look for?”
“Well, you know our guys normally blend in. They walk around or hang out in parks and wait for orders during the day, unless they see something themselves. Then at night, we mostly stick to secluded areas or on the rooftops. I want to know if they go anywhere different than we’ve set up for them, or if they insert themselves too closely into something they shouldn’t.
Pretty much, if anything looks different from how we normally do things, I want to know about it. ”
“Yeah, you got it,” he reassures me, and I stand to leave, but he leans forward. So, I stop to listen. “If you need anything, mama, you let me know.”
I hate how that affects me. As nice as that offer is, there's nothing he can do for me. I don’t need anything except Damien.
I need his arms around me, his scent to flood my senses, and his heartbeat in my ear.
But he can’t give me any of that, and everything else is minimal comparatively.
It is a nice gesture, however, and somehow I know that deep down, Grease is a good guy.
“I need my husband. That’s what I need.”
He hardens his stare and sits up a little straighter.
“We’ll find him.”
I smile back at him and then walk out with Daisy beside me.
Alex and Zeke are waiting anxiously with their arms crossed at their chests, and Viking stands on the opposite side of the hall with a stare that could slaughter.
He has a lot of pride that he's going to have to get over eventually, or it might just get him killed. I like Grease. He’s a respectable man, and if he likes Viking so much, then there must be something redeemable about him. I'm just not sure what.
Those stares that I remember from my first time here are back, and the entire club seems to watch us as we walk back through.
I don't pay them any attention, though. Even if our groups can't reconcile any time soon, they're not a problem today. They’re not my priority.
Damien is, and this meeting was only to ensure that we had eyes and ears everywhere we could have them.
The rest seems like a later problem.