Chapter 25
Crow
Fuck.
Motherfuck.
How could this mousy bitch wreak so much havoc?
How did she dismantle years of work in a few months?
As Fiona’s body went limp under my grip, I continued to curse her existence.
Everything had gotten out of control. I felt out of control.
With what semblance of reason I had left, I gently lowered her body to the floor until she was leaning against the wall.
Fucking Trish. She had her handy moments, but I had underestimated how invested in Bash she was.
When I took over as manager of the club, I quickly caught on to Trish’s scam, but let her get away with it until she accrued enough money for it to count as grand larceny if I took it to the cops.
We had an agreement; Trish deposited the funds into the account belonging to the overseas shell corp we had set up.
From there, I had my own account in Switzerland that I funneled the money into.
That way, I had an extra layer of protection, and made sure Trish couldn’t access it.
I hadn’t reached the number I originally had in mind, but I had definitely stashed away a good amount of money.
It would do the trick, distracting the Reaper’s Guard long enough for me to get set up somewhere new. Where I could be the real me.
Crow. No one ever asked how I got the name.
Everyone assumed it was because of my dark hair and comfort with death.
The truth was that Reaper had called me that when I was a kid, said I was always distracted by something shiny.
The insinuation was clear: I wasn’t good enough.
I was greedy and unfocused. The name was a constant reminder of what my so-called father thought of me.
Memories of the day Reaper gave Bash the title of VP floated through my head.
The anger at being passed over still burned through me.
I had walked into Reaper’s office, where he sat behind his desk, as if expecting me.
Slamming the door behind me, I looked at the man I was supposed to call my father.
“Why? What did I do wrong? Why Bash and not me?”
“You’re not ready,” he replied simply. “As VP, or President, you have to put everyone else’s needs before your own.
You always have to think about what’s best for the whole, not just the individual.
You’re not able to do that yet. The potential is in you, but right now, you’re not there.
Until you learn how to put others before yourself, this is where you’ll stay in the club. ”
Mom always played the peacemaker between Reaper and me, begging me to understand his role not just as my father, but as the club president. I was always expected to back down, defer to Reaper. How was I supposed to prove myself when I was never given an opportunity to act of my own accord?
I wasn’t ready in his eyes, but the truth was that it was his fault. Their insistence throughout my childhood that I roll over and take whatever Reaper said as gospel resulted in my inability to establish any authority among the Brothers. They set me up for failure.
Pacing, I tried to sort my thoughts. There had to be a way out of it.
I could figure it out. I hadn’t gotten that far to get taken down by a nobody who didn’t know when to give up.
She had no idea, had no right to pass judgment on me.
I needed to hide Fiona, get her somewhere she couldn’t reach Bash and wouldn’t be found right away.
Looking around the room, a plan started to form in my mind.
I’d had a threesome with Kandi and her friend the night before, but kicked them out as soon as I heard about Ginger.
They must have sensed my fury because they both scrambled to get out of there.
In their rush to leave, they left part of their costumes behind.
A variety of items were strewn across the floor.
After making sure that the little bitch was still passed out, I calmly went back to packing.
Once my duffle contained all my important documents, including the bit of cash I kept there and access to the account I made Trish set up.
I figured that I had maybe two or three hours to get my shit sorted and out of town before the guys came looking for her, and then after me.
Her hair was straight and stood out too much with its loud color.
Grabbing the long blonde wig Kandi had left, I managed to stuff Fiona’s hair under it.
I pulled the poofy skirt over her leggings, then wrangled her arms into the sparkly jacket.
It was awkward, trying to get the items on her limp form, but I made it work.
With tall boots to top it off, it made for a very different appearance for Fiona.
I just needed to get past the cameras for the moment, buy myself some time.
It would do the trick. Grabbing my duffle, I dragged Fiona upright and pulled one of her arms across my shoulders.
I was glad she was so small because it was easy to maneuver her out of the room.
Keeping her face turned toward my chest, obscured by the blonde wig, I made sure it would appear as if I was helping a drunk girl out of the clubhouse on any cameras. I knew Keys was monitoring everything, but I was hoping his focus was on the guys who went out in search of Trish.
When I made it to the back of the clubhouse without anyone looking at us twice, I took the first deep breath since Ginger was brought in that morning.
Once I had started taking money from the club, I had done my best to shield myself.
I knew I had covered my ass. Ginger had no idea that I was involved.
However, there was a chance Ginger knew where Trish was.
I hadn’t yet been able to find her. What if Ginger knows something I don’t?
How much time will that leave me with to get my shit together?
I tried to plan for any way she could derail my plans.
As soon as we started questioning her, though, it was clear she had no concrete address for Trish.
There was still a chance we could find her, but at least I had a bit of breathing room.
I didn’t have any time to waste, though.
I had to get out while I still could. From the back of the clubhouse, I dragged Fiona into the attached garage, grateful to find it empty.
I placed her on the ground, leaning her against the doorway, just out of view of cameras or anyone walking by.
From there, grabbing a broom, I made my way around the garage.
Knowing where all the cameras were, I stayed out of focus as I used the handle of the broom to nudge the cameras, adjusting their angles so they couldn’t get a clear shot of my car or the doors that led downstairs.
It wasn’t the best fix, but it would do for the moment, I only had so much time before Keys noticed.
Going back for Fiona, I took in the space.
There were three entry points to the garage; the bay door for a car to enter or exit, then there was the door I had just come through that led to the main floor of the clubhouse.
Finally, on the same wall, was another door that was locked—it led down to the basement.
Hiking my duffle up onto my shoulder, I repositioned Fiona as I punched in the door code for the basement.
I carried her down the stairs and through the last stretch of hallway that would take us into the paint shop.
Quickly keying in the code, I unceremoniously dropped her into the chair Ginger was in earlier, placing my duffle down next to her.
Fiona was going in and out of consciousness at that point, her head lolling as she groaned quietly.
She tried to push away from me, but didn’t have enough strength to create any distance.
She tilted to the side, almost falling out of the chair as I was crouched next to her.
I pushed her back upright then headed toward Scythe’s toolbox.
Slapping the wall next to it, I waited impatiently as the hidden panel slid open, revealing a locked door.
Quickly letting myself in, I took in the space around me.
Meticulously organized shelves contained a variety of equipment.
The walls were lined with tools, weapons, and binds.
Grabbing some rope, I headed back toward Fiona, who was once again on the precipice of consciousness, sliding off the chair.
I grabbed her hands and pulled them, but was stymied by the ridiculous jacket and its long sleeves, as well as the wig.
Yanking those off, I was able to maneuver Fiona easier and quickly tied her hands together with the rope behind her back.
As I tightened the last knot, she rolled forward, but this time, was stopped short by her arms locked around the chair.
Her red hair hung over her face like a fluorescent beacon, and a moment of panic ran through me.
I never meant to hurt her. I only wanted to hurt Reaper.
Dismissing those thoughts, I used my knife to slice the excess rope from her wrists, and made quick work of binding her legs from her knees to just above the oversized boots her feet were stuffed into.
Her eyes were opening and closing, but she looked through me, unseeing.
I made sure she could breath and was stable in the chair before picking up my duffle and heading for the weapons room.
Grabbing anything that looked useful, I packed the duffle close to bursting with weapons and ammo.
Walking back to the paint shop, I stopped near Fiona’s prone body.
A moment of doubt washed through me, but I shook it off and grabbed the wig and jacket from earlier.
I quickly made my way back upstairs before throwing the duffle into the back seat of my car.