Chapter Twenty Two
Nashville
Blaze pulls up the news reports about Helen Barton’s death.
It was ruled an accident like Charley said.
There are pictures of the family in the papers, Charley is standing off to the side in most of them.
I glare at the image of her father and wish I could go over there and beat the shit out of him.
He let her down. Charley didn’t mention him much, she didn’t need to. His lack of action is what caused his daughter to be in that situation.
They were your typical well-to-do, rich family who cared more about reputation than being decent fucking human beings.
Her step-siblings have all gone on to college, the bastards. I take some great pleasure in seeing pictures of Stephen before and after the accident. He has burns all down one side of his neck and arm, his hand doesn’t work the way it used to, putting an end to his lacrosse career.
“Lacrosse,” I mutter. “Isn’t that a girl’s game?”
“It’s a competitive sport,” Blaze says, sees my face and smirks. “But yeah, most self-respecting guys wouldn’t be caught dead playing that shit.”
He nods. Blaze didn’t ask any questions when I showed up at his place wanting him to look these people up for me. Now that I’m sitting here staring at their picture, I raise my eyes to him. He stares back.
“When did he ask you?”
“When she started working at Elegance. We do it for all employees.”
“The deep dive.”
“Rebel asked me.”
Rebel? I thought it would have been Nero.
“He said you got one of the dancers out of the Pembroke House, you seemed pissed off enough that he wanted to know everything he could about her.”
“Nosey fucker.”
Blaze doesn’t bother answering that. It’s the way the club works. Even more so now. We can’t risk any strangers getting close and turning out to be on Storm’s payroll. Chains was bad enough.
“No one ever thought she was into anything she shouldn’t be,” he assures me.
“Of course she isn’t.”
“I’m glad I don’t drink the water at the clubhouse.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“You and Nero.”
I’m really fucking confused then remember what Nero keeps on saying to me about how he fell for Taylor without expecting or planning it.
“If you think it has anything to do with the water we’re drinking, then we need to have a chat about the rules of attraction.”
“I’m good.”
I hate that he only says what he has carefully thought about saying. He’s not the type to have an open conversation with. Not that I need to be talking to him about my feelings for Charley.
Which have only gotten stronger, and harder to ignore after hearing what she went through to get here. Other people have had it harder, and that is bad for them, but this is what she went through, her trauma is valid.
Blaze drinks coffee like it’s his lifeline.
Sometimes I think he’s traded in one vice for another but he told me a while ago he only drinks de-caf, he doesn’t like plain water or soda, so coffee is his go to.
No one ever questions him sitting in bars with a mug in his hand. Not that he frequents them often.
“Any word on the Kivisto’s?”
“I have some intel, they’re second generation American. They’re firmly established in Savonlinna where their family originates. It’s bordered with Russia.”
“Don’t tell me they work with the Russians?” My body tenses up.
“Not found any ties yet, serious at least. Maybe a few deals back before the war. Like most people they seem to steer clear of the Russians.”
“Good, we don’t want to have to deal with that too.”
“Even Storm knows better than to get into bed with the Russians.”
“You think he’s that clever?”
“He’s got to have some brain cells to be able to keep hidden from us.”
He means him. Blaze is getting more pissed every day that passes where he hasn’t managed to track down Storm.
“They’re not big players,” he goes on about the Kivisto’s. “My guess is Storm is trying to link them up with another player. One we don’t know about.”
“Well, that’s worrying as shit.”
“I’m surmising.”
“Blaze, you don’t surmise. You don’t verbalize shit if you don’t think there is a legit reason to say it.”
“Yeah, well until I know for sure, I’m not spreading it around. Nero will bring it to church when I have more news.”
He is saying keep this to myself until Nero is ready to share. As the sergeant-at-arms for the club, he isn’t in the wrong for filling me in. Nero won’t be pissed at Blaze for that.
“You want me to do anything else with this stuff?” he points to the pictures of the Barton’s.
Maybe I can’t go there and kick their asses, but I can mess with them. I grin at Blaze and he lets out a heavy sigh.
“Maybe Stephen is about to have a bad run at his finals.”
“Maybe,” he shakes his head and turns back to his computers.
“Or their bank might make some bad investments for them.”
“You gotta keep an eye on your portfolio,” Blaze calls over his shoulder. He gets what I’m saying.
Those fuckers deserve it. It’s the least I can do for Charley, even if it is more about my own personal satisfaction than her getting her vengeance.
Hitting them where it hurts the most is the best way to deal with bastards like that. I leave his house whistling a happy little tune.
I still have four hours before Charley gets off shift, but I don’t mind going and hanging at Elegance to watch her in those tiny little shorts and heels.
Most guys would get pissed at the thought of their woman dressing like that, having men stare at them, not me. Charley is her own woman who knows what she wants.
Having a deeper understanding of her reasons for wanting to dance at Elegance also means I will never ask her to stop.
The dancers at Elegance are treated well and always protected. People can look, but anyone who dares to touch I will personally shoot their dick off.
My woman. Sounds weird to think that, but it isn’t freaking me out anymore. The problem is, I don’t know if she will react the same.
Fury calls as I’m about leave and asks if I want to go to the Battleground with him. Stryker isn’t fighting, but another brother is, so it gives us a reason to be there. What the hell, I have some time, so tell him I’ll meet him there.
The Battleground isn’t too far from the clubhouse by Penn Mary Yard, the large rail yard that has warehouses all around.
It’s a protected set up but is classed as neutral ground between any factions within the city.
People who like to watch and take part in fights go there knowing if there is any trouble, they’ll end up under the old rail lines.
Stryker is with Fury when I arrive and I greet them with a chin dip.
“Opponent next week is fighting tonight,” Stryker confirms his presence.
“Excellent opportunity to observe then,” I slap his shoulder. Not many people can get away with that. I’m not worried.
We head inside. It’s busy because it’s a Saturday night, and from the board there are a lot of fights on the roster.
Stryker knows his way around so we follow him to the heavyweight rings.
Fury heads to the bar to grab us some beers and I stand beside Stryker and watch the two men in the ring beating the shit out of each other.
It’s bare knuckle, violent and bloody. I’ve watched a few fights in my time but never really enjoyed it as a sport. Stryker has yet to be beaten in any weight class.
Nero said a while back that scouts on the professional circuit have tried to entice him away but Stryker is the furthest thing from corporate you can get. He’d never let any big agent or sponsor tell him what to do.
He also does this for a reason. It’s not out of enjoyment for the sport either. If he isn’t breaking faces for the club, he uses this as an outlet for whatever rage he is holding under his skin.
“That the guy?” I ask, pointing at the man walking around the ring holding his arms up. He hasn’t won yet, he’s just showboating.
Stryker nods. “He’s from out of town.”
“What a fucking dick,” I say, watching him bob back and forth, shadow boxing while his opponent is given a medical assessment.
“Sometimes cockiness isn’t just for show,” Stryker says. “Sometimes its to hide a deeper issue.”
“Which one is it?”
“I think he is dangerous.”
“You scared he’ll take you?” I quip.
His dark eyes turn to me, and I hold up my hands.
“I’m not invincible,” he says, looking back at the fighter.
I’m about to tell him I never expected to hear him say shit like that but he beats me to it.
“I can kick his ass.”
My laughter draws attention to us and Stryker scowls at me. People are suddenly more interested in him than the fight. Before anyone can approach him, Stryker turns and vanishes into the crowd. Even I lose sight of him in less than five seconds.
The asshole in the ring was watching too, but he’s drawn back into the round and before the three minutes are up, he’s KO’d his opponent. He looks around to see if Stryker is anywhere to be seen but he’s long gone.
Fury comes over with a bottle of beer for me and him, guess he knew Stryker would disappear.
“Seen anything?” he asks.
“Just this dickhead,” I lift my chin at the fighter who just did a back flip in the ring.
Fury pulls a face, but he too laughs when I say it’s Stryker’s next fight.
A couple of people approach us as we move around, mostly just greeting us, or checking in because we’re wearing our cuts. One guy starts asking about Stryker, but I reckon he’s already left. He saw what he needed to, and didn’t want any further attention.
We make another circuit, convinced there is nothing happening when Fury pauses, peering up at one of the balconies. There is a man leaning over watching one of the women’s fights beneath him. I have to squint but finally see what Fury has.
After setting our drinks down we separate and circle around to the metal staircases on opposite sides of the room, giving him no way to get down if he sees one of us first. I text Stryker on the off-chance he hasn’t left and give a grin and a wink to a woman who tries to stop me because we need to get to this guy at the same time.
Fury does manage to get to him first and as soon as Venom sees him, he turns to hurry away but walks right into my fist straight into his stomach.
Fury grabs the back of his shirt to hold him upright so people around can’t see what is going on.
We get on either side of him and walk towards the back wall, chatting to one another about nothing to further disguise what is happening.
“What is this about? I haven’t done anything to the Disciples,” Venom says, looking from me to Fury, now that he has his breath back.
“Shut up,” I tell him.
There are large columns up to the ceiling that hide us from everyone. Once we’re out of sight, Fury grabs him by the throat and pushes him back against the wall. I make sure no one is watching.
“We think you might know something we want to know,” Fury says, squeezing his throat.
He claws at his hands. “No, I don’t know anything.”
“Where is your boyfriend?” Fury snarls at him.
“Fuck you,” he spits and gets a fist to the kidney for his trouble.
“Come on, are you saying you don’t know where the guy you’re fucking is?”
“I’m not fucking anyone, let alone a guy,” he snaps.
“We have pictures that say otherwise,” I lean in closer.
Venom glares at me.
“We can send them to your boss if it makes this any easier for you.”
“Fuck you,” he repeats, this time with less effort. “And I don’t know where he is. I haven’t seen him since we… since things stopped.”
“Aw, he didn’t want your cock anymore?”
“Shut the fuck up,” he says, even more dejected.
Now that I know what it’s like to have someone you care for, it’s obvious what is going on here. But I have no fucks to give about how this guy feels. The man he’s fucking, or was, is one of Storm’s friends.
“Leave him out of this. Whatever shit is going on with Storm, he has nothing to do with it.”
“What makes you think there is shit going on with Storm?” I ask, all casual as Fury holds him so tight he can’t barely move.
“Because there is always shit going on with Storm,” he grits out. “Jake hasn’t seen him in months and doesn’t want anything to do with him, he’s getting out of the life.”
“Is that why he’s walked away from you?”
His eyes lower and I kind of feel bad for him.
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know. He left town.”
Fury and I exchange a look. Does that mean he’s gone to Romney too? We question him for a little longer and Fury gives him enough punches to know he’s telling us all he knows. He gives him one last punch to the jaw, and he slumps to the floor.
That was a waste of time but we at least have something to give to Razer, to be on the look out for someone else in Romney.
“What do you want to do?” Fury asks as we head back downstairs. If anything the place is busier.
“I’m going to Elegance,” I say, watching everyone around us.
“Might as well come along,” he shrugs, he takes out his phone to text Razer.
Outside Stryker is standing by the bikes talking on the phone. He looks up when he sees us coming and instantly my hackles go up. He is rounding to the side of his bike as he hangs up.
“Elegance. Now.”
He doesn’t have to say anything else. The last time I jumped on my bike and raced somewhere was to Nero’s house. Storm and his men were going for Nero’s son.
All I can see in my head is Charley sitting on my bed, looking at me as she tells me all of her truths, smiling at my promise to always keep her safe.
I’ve never got on my bike so goddamn fast in my life.