Chapter 35
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Romeo
Fiona had been gone less than ten minutes when I walked into church, and somehow that was long enough to make me wish I’d followed her instead.
I’d waited weeks to get back to Rosewood. Months if I counted every time I’d wanted to come but stopped myself. Then I finally found her standing on the clubhouse porch, got exactly long enough to hug her, and immediately had to send her home while I dealt with everything else.
She’d tried not to show her disappointment when I said I needed to come inside. That quiet “Okay” had followed me through the door anyway.
I took a place near the wall beside Mimic and Indie, while Morgan sat at the table between Grace and King. Sal and Mac stood behind her, both men close enough to make their point clear: anyone trying to reach Morgan would have to go through them first.
The room was crowded with family, club members, and enough tension that I should’ve had no trouble keeping my mind on the reason we were all there. Instead, part of me wondered whether Fiona had driven straight home or looked back before she left.
“Chasm isn’t coming,” King said.
Whatever warmth had been left on Morgan’s face disappeared.
I understood why King was pissed. Chasm had come to Rosewood, broken into Morgan’s house, punched Gunner, and disappeared again before anyone could force a real explanation out of him.
King had spent seven years believing his best friend was dead, only for the asshole to show back up and start making decisions for everyone else as if nothing had happened.
Morgan seemed less angry than hurt.
“Why was he here?” Gunner asked. “Why didn’t he stay the fuck dead?”
The sharpness in his voice surprised me. Gunner usually conserved anger until he had something useful to do with it, but Chasm had managed to drag history into Gunner’s marriage and force Sarah to relive things none of them wanted brought back into the light.
“Chasm took over as president of the Little Rock Chapter,” I explained. “He was going through Steele’s office and found some files with women’s names on them. They were empty, so whatever information he had, Stone took with him when he left.”
The room went quiet enough that I felt every set of eyes turn toward me.
“Morgan was one of those names. We don’t know if they knew she was married to Chasm. We assume they knew she was O’Malley’s daughter. And by extension, King’s sister.”
That last part still sounded strange.
King had spent most of his life believing the parents who raised him were just that. Last December, when I was in Rosewood meeting the love of my life, he found out they were his grandparents. Now another branch of the family tree seemed to drop on his head every few months.
Morgan was different from the others.
She hadn’t appeared out of nowhere as some unknown sister he had to learn from the beginning. She’d already been part of his life. They had years of memories together from before either knew they shared blood.
I wondered how many of those memories would look different now.
“But you don’t know for sure?” Morgan’s mother asked.
“We don’t,” King answered. “Chasm came to Rosewood to check on Morgan. He said he wasn’t going to make contact. I don’t know what changed.”
“He got jealous,” Morgan said quietly.
I couldn’t stop the grin.
Seven years of hiding hadn’t been enough to drag Chasm out of the shadows, but apparently another man trying to dance with his wife had done the job.
“What was that, baby?” Sal asked.
Morgan straightened. “He saw me at the Tavern with the girls when David Gearing tried to dance with me. He’s been trying to get me to go out with him for years. Jude got jealous and broke into my house. He was there when I got home.”
The sound behind her came from Sal.
Low.
Very fucking unhappy.
King’s fists closed against the table until Grace rested a hand on his arm. After a second, his fingers loosened.
I couldn’t blame either man. Chasm had disappeared from Morgan’s life for seven years, then walked back into her house because some other man dared to stand too close to her.
He’d confronted her, reopened every wound he left behind, and disappeared again before Morgan could even decide what she wanted from him.
“Then why did he leave?” Frank asked.
“Because he’s a stupid, stubborn son of a bitch,” King answered.
Morgan smiled.
It was small, almost reluctant.
That smile told me more than the rest of the conversation had.
Whatever Chasm had done to her, whatever anger and hurt still lived between them, Morgan wasn’t done with him. And judging by the way Chasm had reacted because another man tried to dance with her, he sure as hell wasn’t done with her, either.
I thought about Fiona.
For months, I’d measured every step I took toward her. I called it patience, and most of the time it was. She deserved room to decide what she wanted without a man thirteen years older pushing his certainty onto her.
But there was another side to that.
If I hid too much in the name of giving Fiona room, the silence could start saying things I’d never meant.
Morgan had spent seven years believing Chasm didn’t want her because he’d decided disappearing was the noble thing to do.
I wasn’t making that mistake.
“Morgan?” King called.
“What?”
Her mother touched her arm. “Honey, Kingston is worried about you being here unprotected. He offered to take you home to Nebraska with him. And of course, I’m sure your father would love for you to go to Boston.”
“I can’t leave.” Morgan looked around the table. “I have a business to run.”
“Honey, I can take care of the business.”
“Morgan, until we know what Steele had in that file, you’re not safe.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. If Steele had anything, why would he wait so long? Why didn’t he come after me years ago?”
King looked away before drawing a slow breath. “Steele was working with the Death Dogs. He was part of the group that attacked our clubhouse. He was also responsible for the warehouse explosion Jude was in. You aren’t safe here. Come home with Grace and me. Let me keep you safe.”
Nobody from Nebraska dismissed the threat.
We’d watched our clubhouse turn into a killing ground with armed brothers inside it. Men had bled on floors where we ate dinner and drank beer. Having people nearby who loved you didn’t make a place untouchable.
Rosewood only looked safer because it was smaller.
I knew better.
Dennis Coleman had gone about his life in this town without anybody paying enough attention until I’d seen him ignore Fiona’s no. He hadn’t been some criminal mastermind. He’d simply been an asshole who understood how easy it was to blend into familiar surroundings.
My fingers brushed the phone inside my pocket.
Fiona lived here.
She walked these streets, went to work, drove to Granny’s house, and moved through town believing she knew most of the people around her. Morgan might have been the name Steele had put in a file, but danger rarely respected the neat boundaries people wanted it to.
“Jude doesn’t want me. My connection to him is gone.”
Morgan’s words pulled me back.
“But not your connection to me,” King said. “Or Sal.”
I watched her look away.
Chasm had crossed several states because he saw her name on a file in an enemy’s desk, and Morgan still believed he didn’t want her.
There was the danger of leaving too much unsaid.
Fiona had spent enough of her life learning not to expect people to stay. I wasn’t going to spend months becoming important to her only to make her guess whether she was important to me.
Morgan looked back at Sal. “What do you think?”
“I want you safe. Unfortunately, Boston isn’t safe.”
King immediately turned. “Why not?”
“Just before the attack on your club, we learned that Sylvia St. James is still alive.”
The change in the room was immediate. Men shifted in their chairs, and Indie straightened beside Mimic. Even the Sons of Hell brothers who hadn’t said much until then gave Sal their full attention.
“How is that possible?” Pyro asked.
Sal shrugged. “She slipped through the cracks. Regardless, she’s out for blood. She almost killed one of my men.”
“Who?” King asked.
“Cian,” Mac answered. “Turns out Cian was adopted. St. James is his birth mother.”
Priest stared at him. “She tried to kill her own son?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time. She was responsible for her daughter’s death in Arizona.”
Silence settled over the table again.
I’d known enough shitty mothers to understand that giving birth to someone didn’t magically make a woman capable of loving them. Trying to kill your own children was still another level of fucked up.
More importantly, Sylvia St. James was one more threat connected to people in this room.
Sending Morgan to Boston was out.
“Then Nebraska isn’t safe either,” Indie said.
Everyone turned toward her.
She and Mimic had barely spoken since church started. The prospect patch on her cut caught the light when she shifted, and for a second, I caught one of the Sons of Hell men looking at it.
People still occasionally acted surprised to see a woman prospect.
They wouldn’t after spending much time around Indie.
She’d earned every fucking stitch.
“Then what’s the answer?” Banks asked.
“Devlyn.”
King looked at Morgan. “What?”
“I’ll go to Louisiana and see Devlyn. The Bourbon Kings will protect me.”
“Road trip,” I said before I could stop myself.
Gator would protect Morgan with his life. New Orleans also came with enough Bourbon Kings, family, and Mob connections that anyone thinking about coming after her would have to be suicidal.
It was probably the safest option on the table.
Unfortunately, it meant leaving Rosewood.
Again.
I’d been here less than an hour. I’d held Fiona for a few minutes, promised I would find her later, and the road was already preparing to pull me away.
“I don’t think—” King started.
“King,” Grace interrupted, resting her hand on his arm. “It’s a good idea.”
“Son, take her to Louisiana,” Sal said. “I have men there. She’ll have plenty of men to watch over her.”
King looked at me.
I could see the moment he accepted the plan.
“Call Gator. Tell him we’ll be there in two days.”
Two days.
I didn’t like how little time that sounded like.
Two days meant tonight was the only night I had to spend with Fiona after weeks of failing to get here. One night before I had to climb onto my bike and leave again.
This time, she was going to know exactly why.
“Come on, honey. Let’s get you home so you can pack.”
Morgan stood with her mother, then looked at Sal. “Are you coming too?”
“I have something I have to take care of.” His gaze slid toward King, who gave him a small nod. “But I’ll see you soon.”
Sal kissed Morgan’s cheek before Mac pulled her into a tight hug.
I had a pretty good idea what Sal suddenly needed to take care of.
Apparently, Morgan did too.
“Where is he going?” she demanded after the two men moved toward the door.
“He didn’t tell me.” King shrugged without meeting her eyes.
“Bullshit. You know where he’s going, don’t you?”
“Morgan, he’s your father.”
She grabbed King’s arm. “King, you need to call him and warn him.”
King kissed her forehead.
“Not a chance in hell. Let’s go get you packed.”
I almost felt sorry for Chasm.
The man had survived an explosion, seven years in hiding, and taking over a broken chapter.
Now Morgan’s father knew he’d broken into his daughter’s house because another man danced with her, only to leave her again.
Surviving Sal might require an entirely different skill set.
King crossed to the Sons of Hell president and offered his hand.
“King, thank you,” he said.
“Take care of our girl,” the other King answered.
Morgan smiled as he pulled her into a hug. Brothers and their women gathered around her one after another, giving her the kind of goodbye that made it obvious this was only about distance, not belonging.
I stayed near the wall with one hand around the phone in my pocket.
Church was finally ending.
Everyone else seemed occupied with Morgan, Chasm, Steele’s files, Sylvia, and where we were going next.
My mind was already several miles down the mountain.
Fiona.
I’d told her I would find her when we finished.
I pushed away from the wall and reached for my phone.
“Romeo.”
I stopped.
King’s eyes were locked on me. “Stay. I need to speak to you.”
Of course he did.
The look he’d given me outside hadn’t been forgotten in the middle of everything else.
My fingers closed around the phone.
Fiona had waited weeks for me to get back to Rosewood.
Apparently, she was going to have to wait a little longer.