Chapter 34
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FOUR
CHANEY
That Summer
Everything has settled for us, like a stack of dominoes that are falling into place since the day Nova and Freyja took that next step in their relationship, cementing it.
I no longer feel like I have to walk on eggshells around my sister.
I can share every one of the whirlwind emotions I’m experiencing with her without her feeling dejected as I skip through the day with a giant grin plastered on my face while she’s withdrawn, hiding from us wearing fake smiles.
Last week, I got my motorcycle license and the club bought me my first bike as a way to celebrate my accomplishment.
It’s a used one but seeing as I’ve never owned anything I’m enamored by it—it’s so beautiful that I can’t stop looking at it.
I sneak into the garage more often than not just to take a peek at it.
It’s black on black, shorter than theirs since my legs are shorter, but it’s no less powerful than the ones they ride.
Last night, Nova and I rode side-by-side for hours, just enjoying the freedom of the open road. It was wonderful! When we got home, Freyja had dinner on the table and we sat down then ate together, talking about our day.
I’m taking on smaller jobs that are close to home for Nova’s firm. When I first started, I had a shadow, but now that I’ve proven I can handle the risky tasks on my own, I’m flying solo. But they’re breaking me in with those pesky jobs none of his staff wants.
Spying, blah.
Cheating spouses, double blah.
I’ll never understand why you’d stand before an audience of your friends and family, dedicate your life to someone with promises of forever, swear to love, honor, cherish, and be faithful to them only to turn around and disrespect them while flipping off the vows you made by bedding another.
Without fail, whenever I’m around a cheater, it leaves a foul taste in my mouth.
Every time I jot down encounters or snap photographic evidence of their shameful deceit, I want to rush up to them and pop them in the back of their heads, hoping to reawaken their brain cells because obviously, they aren’t firing on all cylinders and need a good whack to get them back on track.
It gives new meaning to hit and run, which is what I would love to do.
They’d never see me coming and wouldn’t be able to give a description of me because I’ve learned how to blend into the darkness like a phantom.
Not beating the crap out of them is something I’m struggling with. Which I’m sharing with Nova. “You can’t beat them up, Chaney.”
“Why not?” I ask, grinding my teeth in aggravation.
“Because, for one, it’s not ethical,” he states, shaking his head.
“What’s the second reason?” I inquire.
“Do you want a list?” he questions, staring at me as if I’ve lost my marbles.
“It’d be nice,” I harrumph.
“You’ve got to detach yourself from your cases, baby girl. You’re going to see things worse than this as you progress.”
“I just feel bad for their husbands and wives,” I admit. “People shouldn’t get married if they aren’t going to be faithful.”
“I agree,” he tells me, reaching across the table and placing his hand over mine. “Unfortunately, this is the way it’s been since the beginning of time. It’s acceptable and expected in some cultures.”
“Well, those cultures suck,” I admonish.
“For you maybe,” he adds. “But it’s their way of life, who are we to judge? We aren’t our clients’ judge, jury, and executioner. We take jobs, get evidence, and turn it in. That’s all we’re hired to do.”
“I suppose,” I grumble. “But I wouldn’t mind playing Whackamole with a few of them.”
“In a way you are, Chaney,” Freyja inserts.
I look over and see Nova bobbing his head, agreeing with her. “How do you figure?” I ask.
“In the end, you’re hitting them in the two areas where it hurts them the most… their reputation and pocketbook. That’s all most care about these days. It’s the getting caught and exposed that ruins them, sis. And you’re the one who does that,” she points out.
I stew and think about what they’ve said until Nova interrupts that train of thought to bring up a different topic. “I need to talk to you ladies about something I’ve been thinking about for a while now.”
“What’s that?” I ask, giving him my undivided attention.
“If something were to happen to me, I want you both protected. The only way I can do that for both of you is to legally marry one and patch the other. The law will protect my legal wife by giving her my assets and the club will protect my old lady by financially giving her my shares of the club business and runs. Either way, my brothers will ensure you both stay safe, but they have to abide by the bylaws and can’t cut any corners. ”
“Either way, we’ll both be bound to you. Just in different forms,” I murmur.
“Correct,” he concludes.
“Do you have a specific role in mind for each of us, or are you willing to listen to our input?” I ask, because I already know that walking down the aisle is more Freyja’s dream than mine.
“I’m more than willing to listen to your thoughts, Chaney. I always have and I always will,” he tactfully reminds me.
“I don’t want to be a bride,” I rush out and say. “Riding motorcycles, mingling with the club at the clubhouse, wearing an old lady cut, and going on runs sounds like a dream come true to me.”
“And those things sound horrifying to me,” Freyja submits. “I’d love to be your wife, Nova. Stay home and be a housewife.”
“That was my thoughts as well,” Nova conveys.
We watch with rapture as he walks over to the fireplace, removes a lid on a wooden box before going to the hall closet and pulling out a long, square box.
He walks up to Freyja before lowering to his knee, taking her hand in his.
“Little one, I don’t have flowery words and I don’t have a romantic bone in my body, but what I do have is a heart full of love.
I can promise to love, honor, cherish, and never forsake you.
Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife? ”
“Yes,” Freyja enthusiastically answers, throwing herself at him. They hold onto one another, basking in the moment. Tears leak from my eyes as my heart fills with joy for them.
Once he slips the ring on her finger, he plants a kiss on her that heats my cheeks. I’ve seen them do this often, but for some reason, this time feels more personal. I feel intrusive so I turn my head and give them some privacy.
After they share words of love and commitment, he shuffles my way, still on bended knee and places the box he pulled from the closet in my lap.
“Patching an old lady into the club is as legally binding as a wedding certificate in the eyes of the Kings. It’s a bond that’s unbreakable.
At least, for me it is. I don’t take this commitment I’m making to you lightly, Chaney.
Would you do me the honor of wearing my patch and becoming my old lady?
” he asks, lifting the lid and pulling out the leather, which is already engraved with my moniker of ‘Hellcat’ and his road name stitched beneath it.
He turns it around, and on the back, it has the club logo in the middle and the top rocker says ‘Property of’ and the bottom rocker says ‘Casanova’.
“It would be an honor and a privilege to serve you and the club as your old lady,” I say, tears still steadily dropping down my cheeks.
He slides it over me and leans in, whispering, “I love you, Hellcat.”
“I love you more, Casanova.”
“Impossible,” he tells me, his breathing heavy. When he pulls back and places his lips on mine, my entire world aligns.
Our union may be unconventional, and it may be scoffed or frowned at by outsiders, but it’s ours and we own it with all of the love we have inside of us.