Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
RATTLER
Church. Just what I wanted. Now all my brothers are going to hear how I spent the night locked in the storeroom along with the worst server on earth. I’m usually the one dishing out the shit, and definitely not taking it. They’re going to have a fucking field day. Open season on Rat.
When I escort the girls out of the room, Ames touches my arm. “I know it’s Sunday, but I didn’t realise you all were religious.”
I bark a strangled laugh. “We’re not. Church is what we call our meetings.”
Spying Dee, I call him over and give him instructions to take the girls back to the bunkhouse and to make sure they stay there, just like before.
When they disappear with their escort, I go to the bar and demand a double of Jack from Dum.
Fuck knows I’ll need it to get through the next hour or so.
A few lingering out-of-town brothers are preparing to leave.
I slap a few backs as I pass, exchanging greetings and wishing them a safe onward ride.
Unable to delay any longer, I head into church.
On entering the room, I find most of the brothers already in attendance, all looking to be in some stage of recovery from the night before.
A couple have beers in front of them, most have coffee, and Woody is nursing a glass of something which looks suspiciously like Alka-Seltzer.
Next to him, Paint is tapping out two white tablets from a bottle and using water to swallow them.
“I’m going to fuckin’ kill whoever’s responsible for this meeting,” Winchester growls. “I was hoping to sleep last night off for a few more hours.”
Occupying myself by looking steadfastly at the table, I try not to draw their attention. They’ll learn soon enough that I’m the reason they’re here. But hell, it could have been either Paint or Stalker who’d landed themselves with this problem if they’d been the ones on call for Royals last night.
Gradually, all the chairs are filled, the latecomers not looking much better than those who were already here. Finally, Bullseye, Saint, and Tempest walk in, closely followed by Genie, who’s hugging his laptop. Last to enter is Freak.
All eyes turn to Bullseye as he bangs the gavel to get the meeting started.
“I know no one expected to be called in for church today,” Prez starts. “But we’ve got a problem, or an opportunity, whichever way you want to look at it, and we need to make some decisions. Rat?” After I perk my head up at my name, he asks, “You want to tell them or have me summarise?”
“Fuckin’ Rat, should have known the rodent would be at the bottom of this,” Winchester growls. “Whatcha gone and done now?’
“You stick your dick in the wrong stripper?” Paint asks.
Prez bangs the gavel. “Shut the fuck up.” Without mentioning it, he rescinds the offer to allow me to tell the story myself, for which I’m grateful. I’m getting enough flack as it is. “Rat, here, was called out to Royals last night. The new girl Freak recently employed…”
“Are you talking about the dancer?” Stalker asks with a frown. “I hope nothing’s happened to her. She’s doing great. Is popular with the—”
“If you’ll shut up and let me speak, I’ll fuckin’ explain.” As the recipient of Bullseye’s piercing scowl, Stalker mimes zipping his lips. “Rat was asked to go down there as Ames had locked herself inside the storage room and refused to come out.”
“She actually wasn’t able to…” I feel bound to correct.
Prez slams both hands on the table. “You want to take over?” After I shake my head, he continues, “There’s apparently only one key to that room, and she took that inside with her.
By the time Rat had picked the lock, the rest of the staff had left the club for the night.
Rat got inside to drag her out, but the door locked behind him.
” Fucking Prez’s traitorous lips curve as if even he finds this amusing.
“Turns out she couldn’t come out as the lock was fucked.
Rat was trapped inside with her for the rest of the night. ”
There are some chuckles, some outright laughter. Words gives a deep belly laugh, and Stalker bends forward, clutching his sides.
But it’s Woody whose eyes narrow as he asks, “Why the fuck didn’t you call anyone?”
“Too fuckin’ embarrassed,” Words offers.
“Nah, he was too busy fuckin’ the server,” Stalker, now recovered, growls. “Fuck, Rat, she was just starting to prove her worth. We going to have a sexual assault charge against us?”
“Fuckin’ Rat.” Paint shakes his head.
Having had enough of this, I stand so fast that my chair falls over.
Leaning over the table, I rasp, “I didn’t fuckin’ touch her.
And as for my phone? The fuckin’ thing didn’t work.
Turns out the storeroom must have been a safe room or something as the walls were all metal lined.
” I focus directly on Stalker. “You really think I wanted to spend all night with that bitch?”
“She’s not that bad,” Stalker says immediately. His brow creases as he tilts his head to the side. “What do you mean, there’s a safe room in the club?”
“Not important right now,” Prez states firmly. “Got worse things to worry about. Like how someone turned off the power and the alarms and walked into fuckin’ Royals as if they owned it.”
Genie blanches white, though it’s obvious he’s already been told. Stalker and Paint get to their feet as I sit down. Freak’s face tightens, and I brace for a storm that might be coming.
“What the fuck?” Stalker roars. “Was anything stolen? Did you check? Saturday’s our busiest night and all the takings would have been in the safe.”
I hadn’t even thought to look. I was too busy getting Ames out of there. I open my mouth to admit that fact, but Prez preempts me again. “Nothing was taken or tampered with. Genie’s been down and checked.”
“And you didn’t?” Freak, his face still thunderous, is not letting me off lightly.
The gavel comes down on the table again. “Listen the fuck up.” Prez rakes his hands through his hair in frustration. “Long story short…”
Tuning out Prez’s actual words, I instead focus on the expressions on my brothers’ faces as they’re told about Ames, her inheritance, and that it’s her own brother who wants to dispose of her.
When he tells them the details of the will, the clause about the beneficiary switching to any husband on her death, and adds, to my embarrassment, her marriage proposal, all eyes come to me.
But Prez doesn’t let them start getting their digs in, saying quickly, “Rat has proposed that either he or one of us weds her and brings the money she offered into the club. We’d net five million dollars, Brothers, and all for just a few months with a ball and chain.”
“And if she dies after she’s married,” the sergeant-at-arms puts in. “The member who’s married her passes on everything she inherits to the club. The whole ten mil.”
“That’s not fuckin’ fair. It’s the brother who drew the short straw, doing the heavy lifting,” Woody points out, rubbing his temples. “I propose whoever marries her gets a decent share of the money.”
“For engaging in a paper-only marriage, and for just a short time?” Saint sighs and rolls his eyes.
My brows pinch together. “Look, I’m the last fan of Ames, but I can’t condone killing her just to get her money.”
“No one’s talking about getting rid of her.
Tempest was speaking hypothetically,” Bullseye snarls, glaring first at me, then the sergeant-at-arms, and follows that up with an equally hard stare down the rest of the table as if making sure his words are understood.
“Our deal is exactly what she offered to Rat. Five million. And all brothers will get to feel the benefit of that.”
Genie gingerly holds up his hand. When Prez nods at him, he enlightens us.
“Tempest isn’t quite right. Pippa’s managed to trace the lawyer the Stone family uses and got into their database.
” He opens his laptop and clicks a few keys.
“There are a few details Ames hadn’t told Rat.
Either she misled him, or perhaps she just didn’t know.
Amethyst Stone is destined to inherit ten million dollars on her twenty-fifth birthday... ”
I frown. She told me twenty-one.
Stalker sits forward and folds his arms. “She’s already, what?
Twenty-two? Twenty-three?” Stalker sits back in his chair and folds his arms. “All she’s got to do is stay under the radar for a couple of years, three tops.
And think of the prize at the end of it.
” He kisses the fingertips of one hand, then spreads his fingers outward in a chef’s kiss.
I drop my bombshell. “She’s nineteen,” I correct him and am rewarded with a widening of his eyes. I can’t resist shooting a glance toward Freak. “Neither she nor Satin has yet submitted their documentation.”
Stalker also glares toward the enforcer, who shrugs dismissively. Not as if he’s got nothing to answer for, but just that it’s not important at the moment.
Genie takes advantage of the silence and goes back to the contract on his screen.
He pauses, staring pointedly at me. “The money is theoretically hers when she becomes twenty-one as long as she’s hitched, but what she hasn’t told you is she can’t touch it until four years later unless she has a child.
And, if she dies before spitting out a kid, the money reverts to her brother, Malachi.
Her husband has no claim if the marriage is childless. ”
What the fuck? I shake my head. “That’s not what she said. She told me...”
Genie looks up to the heavens and back. “I’ll try to use words of one syllable so you can understand.
For the marriage to change the age of inheritance, she has to not only have a husband, but also a child.
Otherwise, she’s not home free, whatever she does, until she reaches twenty-five. Husband or not.”