Chapter 9
Dante
Rachel glared at me as though I was the devil himself, her gaze full of hatred. I couldn’t help but smirk at her, which only resulted in a wave of fiery fury radiating off her. She looked good. Damn her for that.
She was blonde again. It suited her more than the red, and definitely more than that godawful black wig. But still, the blonde signified the removal from this life. From me. I fucking hated that reminder.
Nothing Rachel did was without purpose.
Her eyes fell on the woman sitting on my knee.
I had my arm around her, and my hand resting on her bare stomach, lazily drawing circles on her skin.
Rachel’s lips tightened, and my smirk turned to a full-blown grin.
She brought her other hand up to the gun when she noticed, cupping the barrel between her palms, her fingers hovering over the trigger.
Rachel in a temper was always my favourite version. My body instinctively reacted to her, roaring to life, recognising its lost half. I clamped down on that emotion and removed my smirk. Fuck that. I wouldn’t fall into her trap again.
Rachel noticed the change in my attitude, and her eyes hardened, narrowing into slits.
A couple of the women gasped and looked at me, anxious to see how I would react.
I wasn’t planning on doing a thing. Rachel would not shoot me.
I knew her well enough to know if she was going to do something, she didn’t hesitate.
This was a scare tactic, and she must think me fucking moronic if she thought I would rise to it.
I met her steely gaze with my own, sending her a silent challenge, mentally asking her what she was waiting for.
Pivot—one of the new prospects—rose from his seat and took a step towards her.
“Sit the fuck down,” I hissed at him, pointing back to the stool he had been sitting on without ever taking my eyes off Rachel.
Fucking prospects.
He was called Pivot, because he had once screamed at Trent when we were out on a club ride.
He said the turns were too sharp for his piece of shit bike.
Vienna had promptly done his best Ross Geller impression, yelling “pivot” in his face over and over for the rest of the day, and whenever he ran into him for the next week.
The poor bloke had tried to go for a piss, and Vienna had pushed him over, yelling “pivot” as loud as he could when it came to the turning for the bathroom.
And just like that, Pivot stuck with him.
If the poor bloke couldn’t handle Vienna, there wasn’t a chance in hell he could handle Rachel. Especially Rachel in a rage. It was laughable that he even got up from his seat.
The Rachel I remembered would have put a bullet in his brain without even turning her head in his direction.
“Last time I ask, Dante. Where. The. Fuck. Is. My. Son?”
“Safe,” I said with a shrug, pulling Vicky up my lap that little bit more, making her body flush with mine. She twisted her head and grinned up at me, her smile almost victorious.
“No. He was safe. Now he’s God knows where, with God knows who. Try again. Answer incorrectly, and I’ll empty the rest of these bullets into your thick, useless skull.”
“I see motherhood hasn’t made you any sweeter. Last time you shot me, it was only my leg that paid the price.”
“Motherhood has made me more aware of potential dangers,” she said without missing a beat. “Actually… I’ve changed my mind. I won’t use all these bullets on you.”
“No?” I raised one of my eyebrows at her.
“No. I’ll be saving one for that useless vice president of yours. Where is he hiding, anyway? He put a hole in my neck. It’s only right I return the favour.”
“Hey!” Vienna snapped, poking his head up from behind the bar. “My hole was the size of a pinprick. That bullet would take my entire neck out.”
“Was that supposed to dissuade me?” She replied, turning the gun on him.
“You’d ruin my lovely beard if you went and shot me in the neck.”
She did her best to fight the smile that twitched at her lips, but she was failing miserably. I sent a silent prayer to whatever God was listening that she had actually made friends here. That would make my job much easier.
“Your beard is fucking hideous,” she replied, making Vienna stumble backwards, clutching his chest as though he was in pain.
“Right, that’s it. Shoot her, Dante. She’s a liar of the highest order.” Rachel bit down on her inner cheeks, her lips pursing as she fought the laughter Vienna always brought out of her. And with her distracted, I decided to strike.
She twisted on me, as I knew she would.
“Sit back down,” she hissed as I pushed Vicky off my knee, ignoring her gasps of protest, and made a step towards Rachel.
“I think we need to talk. Would you rather we did it in front of the entire club, or am I permitted to ask you to follow me into the back so we can continue this in private?”
“I only want to know where my son is. You can give his location in front of everyone here. After all, some of them have been privy to much more private situations. Eh, Hacksaw?” She glared at him, finally noticing him in the crowd.
“Hey… How err… How you doing, Rachel?” He said, rubbing the back of his neck, a sheepish expression on his face.
“Rachel, come on,” I said softly, gesturing to the back of the bar where the house began. “You can bring the gun with you if it makes you feel any better.”
“And you’ll tell me where my son is?”
“The exact co-ordinates.”
“And what possible reason could I have to doubt you? You’ve been nothing but honest in the past. A real, upstanding citizen.”
“I’m not telling you where our son is until we’ve talked. The choice is yours. But I do have somewhere to be today, so if we could hurry this up…”
“Fine,” she sighed, pushing her way through the crowd. As she approached Vicky, she swung to the side and shoulder barged her, sending her backwards into the bar.
“Excuse you,” Vicky hissed.
Rachel didn’t miss a beat. She spun around and aimed her gun at Vicky’s feet, firing a shot on the floor next to them.
See? There was never any danger of Rachel shooting me. She acts without thinking.
Vicky screamed in response and scrambled onto a barstool, looking at Rachel in shock, her breathing heavy.
“No. Excuse you ,” Rachel laughed before following me through the archway into the house.
I heard Vienna laugh before he started taking the piss out of Vicky’s “stupid, scared face.”
Those two definitely did not get along like he and Rachel had.
“Was that necessary?” I asked her.
“No, but it was fun,” she replied as she came into the front room and threw her gun on the sofa. I raised my eyebrows once more at her actions and she simply shrugged.
“I’m not going to prison for killing the father of my child,” she said, folding her arms.
“You wouldn’t go to prison.”
“Fine. If you want to be pedantic about it, I don’t want to be murdered by your club in retaliation for killing the president.”
“That might happen.” I grinned at her.
“Mm,” she pursed her lips. “How is presidency treating you, by the way?”
“I’ve no complaints. It has its perks.”
“Oh. I’ve seen the perks. Two of them, in fact. Isn’t she too young for you?”
“You mean Vicky?” I laughed. “She’s no one important.”
“Didn’t look that way to me.”
“Looks can be deceiving. You look like a sweet, lovely person. You’d never know you’re a serial killer.”
She rolled her eyes so hard I was surprised the greens of her eyes came back into view. “That’s a bit of a stretch, don’t you think?”
“Have you lost track?” I started counting on my fingers. “Alex, Macbeth, Ben—”
“Hey! You had already tortured Ben to the point he never would have survived.”
“You delivered the final blow, though.”
“Fine. Fine. I get your point.”
“I wasn’t finished,” I grinned.
“I said I get it!” she snapped, glaring at me as though she’d like to add my body to her kill count.
We both grew silent for a moment before she asked, “is she your old lady?”
“Why do you care?”
“I don’t. It’s called making polite conversation. You should try it sometimes instead of this bullshit lawyer technique you learned from watching Eastenders. Answer a question with a question. You’ll go far in life,” she finished her rant by mockingly putting both her thumbs up.
“Are you quite finished?” I laughed. “And I don’t know how to answer that question, because it all depends.”
“Depends on what?”
I paused before I answered and took a moment to take in her appearance.
She looked a little pale, but that was no surprise, considering she had been roofied the night before.
But other than that, she was as glorious as ever.
Her body had changed slightly, with her hips being slightly wider, and her tits being that little bigger, but other than that, she was the same Rachel I had once worshipped.
Except being a blonde once again. Her safety colour.
I had spent weeks watching her on camera, watching her every move.
It became an obsession. Every moment I was awake, I had to be looking at those cameras, seeing what she was up to.
I watched her so much; I knew her routine like the back of my hand.
There had been comments, of course there had, but I told everyone that I was only doing this because of my son.
I even had myself convinced for a while there.
But the truth was, it had become enjoyable. Familiar.
We all knew it was a lie, and we all knew the same possessive obsession I had felt towards her had never really disappeared. It was simply buried. Laying dormant. And the minute I saw her again, it came rushing back tenfold.
I had to see her. I needed to see her. Even if it was only through the cameras, it was better than nothing.
It’s why I made Hacksaw install cameras in every room of her house.
That was over the top and unnecessary. I didn’t need that level of access.
But to me, that was the bare minimum necessary in my need to control her.