Thirty-Two
We knew this job was going to be messy. What a shit show of a day it’s been. But we live for the excitement of the job, so we weren’t entirely unprepared for it to get ugly. We knew the possibility of spilling blood was inevitable. We’ve been puttering around surveilling the club for months. Blaze and Bell have had their eyes on communication–things were good until they weren’t.
Blaze and Bell said that the uncoordinated attack showed the Italians' desperation, and they weren’t wrong. Marco and Beverly scraped the bottom of the barrel with the idē?ts they hired. Although I don’t think Rossi, Berlusconi, or Ferrari realize the Churches have the Organization on their side, which is good. That puts us uniquely positioned to protect the club from the shadows. But they’ll know soon enough.
The man everyone fears will not be getting his grubby hands on Presley. But I fear he isn’t as far away as they may think. I don’t know for sure–it is just a feeling. And my feelings are never wrong.
Sitting in the passenger seat, my mind goes to my sister. I’m trying not to think about what is happening between her and Taz. I had my suspicions. Okay, that’s not the complete truth. I saw it coming from a mile away, even if my sister had tried denying it for the last few weeks. I’d asked her more than once. She refused to talk about it, or she would change the subject, but I knew it was game over for them both. Watching how he grabbed her that first night, the possessiveness behind his eyes. Even if she refused to admit it, that was the beginning of them. Honestly, I’m happy for her. I'm not sure how it will all work out because the guy’s intense and very much an alpha hole. And my sister, well, she’s hell on wheels on the best of days.
But that is their story, and I’m staying out of it.
I’ve got my own story, which I’m hell-bent on keeping to myself. Bell isn’t the only one who has caught a case of feeling shit. For me, that shit can’t happen. I won’t let it happen. I’m not a girl who roams this world with hope in her heart and stars in her eyes. Letting out a harsh breath, I push further into the headrest, trying to think about anyone but him. I stare straight ahead, trying not to think of anything but the job. The job is all I have, all I will ever have.
I recognize that trying to talk to my brother is pointless; Blaze will be in his head for a while. One thing I know is that he takes every mistake and mishap personally. He’ll beat himself up for not finding the information sooner. And he will analyze every move he’s made until now–to death. And sometimes, we have to let him have his process.
The problem with his processing is that we are being followed, and Blaze has yet to see it, but he has me. He may not realize it, but Bell isn’t the only one not seeing and thinking clearly. When Mom told them everything, I knew that as much as they wanted to, they wouldn’t be able to keep their emotions out of it. They are still them. They are still badass motherfuckers who will get the job done. But they are human. They fall in love and break like everyone else. Which I’m sure is another thing Blaze will beat himself up about. Pain, Rocket, and I have his back and have been watching the car that’s not so discreetly following us.
I get it, though. Everything for them just imploded with the knowledge and truths of their beginning. There is this pressure for them to fix a problem that has scarred our mother all of their lives. Knowing everything has dealt them a significant blow, finding out about their parents and how their story ended. Mom had always been honest with them about who their dad was. They knew about him; they didn’t know him. I never understood why they never wanted to learn more about the guy and his life. But I never pushed. They held back their questions when we were younger. But when that door opened, they needed to know more. Mom looked so sad days after explaining, and whenever she talked about him–the man who broke her. She has always had this look in her eyes. There was a pain there that couldn’t be put into words. And seeing her like that, I think, affected them in more ways than they even know.
I shake my head and look at my rearview mirror, my eyes narrowing. Pain shifts, he knows, and when his eyes meet mine, I nod.
Now, back to the idē?ts following us. We love this part of the job. We want whoever it is alive and breathing to find out who they are, and if they are a part of the same group that tried to take Gunner and his club out earlier or a new set of problems.
This is going to be fun. I smirk, adjusting in my seat.