CHAPTER 60
Asher
I left the fucking gates open.
I got too comfortable, and I should’ve told Olivia everything.
I shouldn’t have kept any of the pieces of my past life from her, and this is why.
Had I told her how dangerous my family is, she could’ve been prepared for something like this.
It takes everything in my body not to snap my uncle’s fucking neck for coming here, and the only reason I don’t is because of the woman just inches away from him.
I would never want to scare her, and I’d die before I’d do something that could take me away from her and the baby.
Pete moves a step away with my threat, and I move robotically, reaching down to cradle Olivia’s hand in mine. She looks like a perfect little snow angel in her white winter coat, fur-lined hood pulled up over her copper hair.
“You’re safe. Go inside. Take Duke with you. I’ll be in in a moment,” I tell her, kissing the top of her head. I can feel her shaking and I fucking hate myself for getting her involved in this life.
“He came to my shop the day of my shower,” she whispers so he can’t hear.
Red. That’s all I see as I look into the blue eyes I love. “It’s okay. You’re safe, baby. I promise. Go inside.”
She nods but her eyes are full of questions as Duke leads her into the house. The moment she’s safely behind the heavy wooden door, I’m gripping my uncle by his shirt collar and pinning him up against the shop wall. I pull back and knock his head against the exposed brick. He grunts in pain.
“The fuck you’ll come here and scare the woman I love.
Go to her store, when she’s unprotected?
I should fucking gut you where you stand.
She’s almost ready to give birth, you piece of shite.
” I seethe as I hold him so tight his collar almost chokes off his air supply.
His face reddens and the version of myself I’ve fought for three years comes coursing back through me.
“You didn’t answer me,” he bites out, fighting to speak. “And then your number was cut off. I don’t want a fight, son. Christ. I’m here because I have to be!”
My head reels and I grip him tighter. The need to fucking hurt him burns inside me, blending with my need to be the man Olivia loves.
“If I wanted to hurt her, I would’ve slit her throat the moment I walked through the door.”
A rage I’ve never felt before races through me as I hit him in the jaw, hard, but it’s not enough. So I rear back and go again.
“And it would’ve been the last fucking thing you ever did,” I remind him.
“Let me fucking go, son,” he bites out, spitting blood from my punch. “I’ve spent fucking weeks here dwelling on how to talk to you and months searching for you before that. You’re a tough nut to crack.”
The rage pulsing through me forces me to let go of his collar. I can’t be both men; I have to choose who I am. I look my uncle up and down, then nod my head toward the table in my shop.
“Aye, then say what you need to and get the fuck out,” I order.
“You aren’t going to ask for my gun?”
I smirk at him as I sit, leaning back in one of the workshop’s chairs. “You’d be dead before you drew your gun. Now tell me exactly why you’re here and who else knows where I am.”
Pete takes a deep breath and straightens out his collar before taking a seat opposite me.
He nods to the black handheld safe he set down. “I know you have trust issues, boy, but fuck, I loved your mother. I wouldn’t come here to fucking hurt you.”
“Try to hurt me,” I correct. “You’d try. ”
“Potato, potahto. ” He smiles at me, then winces from his split lip. “I’m here because your father asked me to be, which is what I’ve been trying to tell you since the summer.”
“Stop being fucking cryptic, old man, and tell me what the fuck you mean.” I’m goddamn exhausted and I just want him out of here so I can explain all this to Olivia.
“Your father wanted to see you before he died. He wanted you back in the fold. It was all he talked about. I didn’t come the day I arrived because I had to make sure I wasn’t walking into a trap. You really are unprotected here.”
“Which is exactly why I didn’t answer you, I want nothing to do with this life.” I affirm, folding my hands over the table.
“Your father knew it left … a dark spot in you. When you went to prison.”
I cock my head. “A dark spot? No … that’s where you’ve got it wrong. It made me see the truth. It took me years to get out.”
“And you wouldn’t have if you didn’t have my support.”Pete pulls a pack of now slightly squished cigarettes from his pocket and pulls one out with his teeth, lighting it with a silver Zippo lighter. I wait as he takes a deep inhale.
“As he became sicker, all he talked about was you leading the Saints into the future. He said you were born for it.” He blows out the rest of his smoke. “And he left you everything, son.”
The fuck? My stomach drops. When I told my father I wanted out, he told me I was dead to him. He said I wouldn’t see a cent.
I scoff. “I don’t fucking want it.” I don’t even need to think about it. I have everything I need here, and I wouldn’t touch one penny of his filthy blood money.
Pete shakes his head on the exhale. “You might want to think about it. It’s millions.”
“I didn’t fucking stutter,” I bite out just as quickly.
“I’ll admit I was going to do my best to try to convince you. I miss having you with me, the family misses you. I figured you’d be done hiding out here when you learned your father was no longer at the helm.”
I refocus on my uncle’s weathered blue eyes, understanding just how much I’ve changed in the last three years and, more importantly, how much I’ve changed since Olivia came into my life.
“I’m not fucking hiding here. I’m living. ”
Pete takes another draw of his cigarette. “Aye then.” He exhales. “As much as it pains me, I have to respect that.”
He can’t force me, he knows that. I went to jail for the family, staying in is my choice after that, and he knows I’ll take any secrets to my grave.
“This is paperwork.” He nods to the briefcase. “You have to read through it, regardless of whether or not you want to. It’s all drawn up by Cale.” He mentions my father’s longtime lawyer. “His number is there should you want to consult with him.”
“I don’t.” There’s no time to even consider this. My uncle can have it all; I’d rather fucking die than go back.
“Your father was adamant you’d come back, but Cale insisted we put these conditions in during his last days, should you be stubborn.” Pete leans back in his chair, a little more confident now that I’m not going to kill him. “Now I see why you won’t cooperate.”
“Why would he want me to run things?” I ask. “He told me I was dead to him.”
“He changed a lot after he got sick. A man lives with a certain amount of regrets on his deathbed.” He exhales a plume of smoke. “He would mumble for long nights about you, how he treated your mother, how she died, and it was his fault.”
“It fucking was.”
Pete grimaces. “I promised him I’d find you. It was his last wish and request. And I needed you to know you were welcome back anytime into this family. There’s no ill will here. You and I, we could do great things together.”
I shake my head, my eyes never straying from his.
“For what it’s worth, he was sorry.”
I run my hand through my hair. “I don’t want to know this.”
“I get it,” Pete says, slowly assessing me. “It’s easier to hate him. Hell, I hated him. I loved you and your mother and he was a cocksucker in those days.” He points between us. “But I need you to know that if you sign these documents, everything will be in my control.”
And?
“Which means if things ever went south between you and Red”—he nods to the house, and just his mention of Olivia has me ready to kill him again—“or if you simply decide you wanted the rush of the old life … once these documents are signed, I’m afraid you won’t be able to do that.
At least not as the boss? Is that clear? ”
I chuckle. “Fucking crystal.”
Pete looks toward the house, the soft orange glow from inside a stark contrast to the snow barreling down out here. Pete looks over at me, a puzzled look in his eyes.
“Never come back. Your mother wouldn’t want it.”
Our eyes lock for a second before I make to stand, moving to pick up the briefcase. It isn’t heavy as I set it down on the table. I don’t care what’s inside. I’ll sign it all if it means I’ll never see him again. If it means the ghost of my father is truly dead.
“You never told me how you found me,” I ask him as I grip the handle and open the briefcase. “And who else from the family knows you’re here?”
Pete stands with me, lifting a boot to put his cigarette out on the bottom of it, tossing the dead butt into the snow out the open door of my shop.
“No one knows. Declan helped me try to ping your number.” He mentions my younger cousin. “I needed him to help me find you. He’s quite the whiz with computers now, but even he couldn’t find you. Not really.”
Thoughts of me and Declan playing together as kids flash through my head but I push them away.
“He doesn’t know it was your number I was looking for, on my honor.” He pats his heart, and I know it’s true. His word is his bond.