Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
After Razor had gotten his head wrapped around the news, he once again went to Sherlock asking for his help. Standing in the doorway of the chapter’s hacker, he waited while Sherlock finished what he was doing.
Sherlock turned in his chair, staring at Razor standing in his doorway. “Who am I digging into now, Razor?” he asked frustrated by the amount of NIW (not important work) he was doing for his brothers.
Razor raised an eyebrow. “Don’t catch an attitude, Sherlock.”
“Brother, I have real shit I’m working on. Me digging into the women in your life, does not pay my bills. Ya, feel me.”
“I feel ya. Now, get me everything you can on Shannon Taylor.”
“I’ll let you know when I have something for you,” Sherlock told Razor, then turned back to his bank of computers. “Close the fucking door!” he shouted, seeing his door wide open.
Razor stepped back into the room. “You need to get laid.”
“The way you fuckers are all falling, I don’t need shit,” Sherlock told him. “Now, if you would kindly leave and close my door.”
Shaking his head at the brother, Razor closed the door and walked away.
* * *
It hadn’t taken Sherlock long to get the information. Getting anything substantial on Lottie had taken more effort.
Once the file landed in his hands, Razor went through the full dossier on Shannon. Hours passed as he combed over every page. By the end of it, he sat back in stunned silence.
Sherlock had dug up more than Razor had expected. Shannon had spent time in psychiatric facilities on multiple occasions. One of the recurring notes referenced Obsessive Love Disorder—Limerence. Not an officially recognized clinical diagnosis, but a pattern obsessive enough to raise concern.
After looking into it further, Razor had to admit the description fit Shannon a little too well. The condition described an obsessive fixation on another person, often paired with the belief that the feelings were mutual, even when they weren’t.
Razor leaned back in his chair, uneasy as the pieces started clicking into place. Shannon had been fixated on him for the better part of a year.
He wanted to handle Shannon immediately, until common sense kicked in. If Shannon really was fixated on him, pushing too hard could easily make things worse. Obsession had a way of feeding on attention, even bad attention.
She already knew where he worked. Had even shown up at the clinic under the guise of an appointment. But outside of that, Shannon knew very little about him. His personal life remained private, and Razor intended to keep it that way.
Closing the folder, he looked up at Sherlock. “Thanks for this. I’ll try not to ask for anything else for a while.”
“Why did you need this info, Razor? Something we should know about?” Sherlock asked him.
Razor held his stare for a beat before answering, “She’s a client at the clinic. I wanted background before I got more involved in her care.” It wasn’t the full truth, but it was enough.
He hated lying, but he didn’t want to draw any unwanted attention to his private life outside the chapter. Or the fact that he frequented The Red Door as a Dom. Even though some of the brothers knew, it wasn’t something he wanted circulating through the brotherhood.
And he still hadn’t told any of them about the situation with Shannon. If he did, it meant opening his personal life up to questions he wasn’t ready to answer.
Going back to the folder, he flipped through the last pages and found her address, Villa Marie, not far from Old City.
His finger traced down her work history.
At present, she worked in a children’s boutique.
Razor closed the folder. With a brief nod to Sherlock, he stood and walked out of the office.
Two hours later, Razor sat in his car watching Shannon put together a window display. Being seen watching a woman in public was the last thing he needed. It would take less than a second for someone to call the cops. What a cliché.
A woman watching a man was rarely questioned, but let a man watch a woman, and he was immediately labeled a stalker, a pervert, or something worse.
Glancing around, he noticed a few people casting looks his way as they passed. Spotting a restaurant with a bird’s-eye view of the boutique, he got out of the car and headed over.
He could grab a seat in the window and keep an eye on Shannon. Maybe he’d catch something—anything—that gave him better insight into her behavior.
The next time he was at The Red Door, he’d make sure Jessie and Dimitri were aware of her and suggest they start running background checks on members before approving them.
“Table pour une?”
“Par la fenêtre, s’il te plait, ” Razor replied.
He followed the hostess toward the window seat and took a position with a clear view of the boutique across the street. From there, he had a perfect vantage point.
Vicious stepped out of the pub and immediately spotted Razor inside a nearby restaurant, sitting alone by the window.
Something about the last few days had felt off, and Vicious trusted that instinct enough to follow it. He crossed the street and went inside.
“Table pour une?” the hostess asked him.
“Non, je rencontre un ami,” he replied.
He walked past her without hesitation and headed straight for Razor. Dropping into the seat across from him, he caught the flicker of surprise on Razor’s face.
“It’s time to talk to me, Razor.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re watching someone.” Vicious glanced out the window toward the boutique across the street. “I recognize a stakeout when I see one.”
Razor let out a quiet chuckle. “This isn’t a stakeout. I’m watching someone who’s becoming problematic in my life.”
“Talk to me, Razor.” Vicious’s tone lowered, but he didn’t back off. VP or not, this was his brother. And Razor looked more rattled than he liked.
Glancing from the boutique to Vicious, Razor already knew this wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have. Not with everything going on with Sway—the pregnancy, the fear of losing another baby.
The idea of saying, this woman thinks she’s carrying my kid, felt like a slap in the face. Worse, it felt like it would cheapen everything Vicious and Sway were fighting to hold onto.
“This conversation stays between you and me,” Razor added. “At least until I know exactly what’s going on.”
Vicious saw the hesitation on Razor’s face. “Whatever it is, let me help.”
“Brother, I don’t think this is a conversation we should be having.”
Vicious slapped his hand on the table. “Tell me.”
The couple at the next table glanced nervously in their direction. Across the room, the manager started toward them, only to stop short when Vicious locked eyes with him and gave him a slow shake of his head.
The man thought better of it and turned back around.
Razor watched the silent exchange between Vicious and the manager. Exhaling, “Fine,” he said.
Vicious sat back and listened as Razor laid it out. The fact that Razor was a Dom at The Red Door wasn’t new information. What was new—was Shannon. His submissive claiming she was pregnant with his child.
“I’m hearing what you’re saying, Razor, but why are you watching her?” Vicious asked.
“I had Sherlock dig into her,” Razor said. “She’s been committed a few times. There are signs she’s dealing with Obsessed Love Disorder.”
Razor caught the corner of Vicious’s mouth twitching. If the man smiled, even a little, he’d throat punch him.
“Don’t laugh, fucker. This is serious. I don’t want a kid with this crazy bitch. She also knows about Lottie and said if I don’t tell Lottie, she will.”
That got Vicious’s attention like grabbing a bull by the horns. “How does she know about Lottie?”
Razor looked at him flatly. “She saw us at The Red Door.”
“We need surveillance on this Shannon chick.”
Razor leaned back, eyes narrowed, his mind already spinning through every possible angle. “What do you think I’m doing?”
Vicious leaned in, their usual quiet intensity sharpening as he spoke, “You think she’s got ill intentions toward Lottie? Or is it just a coincidence?”
Razor didn’t answer right away, the question settling heavily between them. He’d been asking himself the same thing since the night this all started.
It wasn’t just about the paternity claim anymore. It was the way Shannon seemed to know way too much about Lottie.
“I don’t know,” Razor finally admitted. “But I need to find out. And until we get answers, I’m keeping tabs on her.” He rubbed his jaw, his fingers digging into the stubble there.
Vicious nodded, expression darkening. “Got it. We’ll shadow her. Keep her under surveillance. Make sure she doesn’t disappear or make a move we can’t predict.”
Razor’s eyes drifted toward the window, watching the shadows stretch across the pavement. A cold edge settled into his thoughts. “If she’s lying about the kid…” His voice trailed off. He didn’t finish, didn’t need to.
Vicious leaned back, tapping his fingers against the table, the wheels in his mind turning. “You’re right to be cautious. We’ll follow her every move. But you need to be prepared for whatever comes back from the test, Razor. You might not like the answer.”
Razor’s jaw tightened. He had to know. He needed to know if Shannon was carrying his child before he told Lottie. If this was all some twisted game, he would handle it accordingly.
“One way or another…,” Razor said, voice low and dangerous, “...I’m getting my answers.”
“I think you should tell Lottie what’s going on. Hiding this could hurt what the two of you have,” Vicious said.
“I’m sorry, brother. I can’t imagine how hard it is hearing me pissed that I might be having a kid when…”
Vicious held up his hand, cutting him off.
“It’s life. It goes on, and we deal with the fallout the best we can.”
They sat in silence, both watching Shannon decorating the window across the street. Each lost in their own thoughts, running through different versions of the same problem, playing out their own lives.
Somewhere in the quiet space between one truth and another, they found their footing again, no longer just VP and brother in crises, but what they’d always been beneath it all. Brothers.