Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Jenna
“But it’s all gone! I gave the shelter every last dime. I didn’t want that man’s money. If his son is mad that he wasn’t named, that’s between him and his dead father.” Troy pinches the bridge of his nose and nods in agreement.
“But it’s one hell of a motive to come after you. Especially now.” I shake my head, not following.
“Babe, you don’t make shit as a nurse. You don’t own real estate, have no car, and have no assets for him to sue you for his portion. But now you’re tied to the club and me.” Oh shit.
“That’s why they targeted both of us.” The light bulb goes off in my head brightly, and it pisses me off.
Like father, like son.
“He wants to use me to get rich through you. So, what? Are they going to demand a payout?” He shrugs.
“I guess we wait and see. Nothing about this feels right. If all they wanted was money, they could have tried a civil suit. This feels desperate. Especially after all these years. And desperate people are fucking dangerous.” A cold shiver goes down my spine, and I shake myself, trying to dispel it.
“Are you cold?” Troy grabs a blanket off the back of the couch and tosses it over my legs without letting me answer.
My stomach grumbles in the quiet room, and he chuckles.
“And hungry. How about some pancakes and bacon?” Oh God, yes.
“That sounds perfect.”
We’re eating and chatting when Spector bursts in the door with Torque carrying my suitcases.
“What the fuck!” Troy yells as Spector slaps a folder on the counter.
“Sorry, VP, he insisted on getting the door for me.” The poor guy is shaking, and I’m afraid he’s about to piss his pants.
“Spector,” Troy’s voice lowers in warning.
“It’s a fucking initiation. He’s a proud new member of Devils Revenge MC. He has to kill someone who’s wronged him. Her being your old lady is the icing on the fucker’s cake.” Spector is fuming at the information, and it seems to have made Troy forget the rude way he entered.
“Fuck.” They look at me, and I realize I’ve frozen with my fork halfway to my mouth.
I gently put it down and clear my throat.
“I’m so fucking sorry! This is my fault. If I hadn’t pursued you the way I did, you’d never have been marked by them. I raise my hand to stop him from blaming himself one moment longer.
“You aren’t the one they want dead. That’s my family drama coming back to bite me in the ass.
You did nothing wrong, so stop. Spector, thank you.
At least I know why this is happening. Now, how are we going to fucking stop it ‘cause I don’t feel like dying today?
” I’d like to think the bravado comes from all the years of working in the hospital.
It lets me compartmentalize my panic and what I need to solve.
Problem: Stop my own murder.
Solution: I’m fucking working on it.
“She took that rather well.” Spector eyes me with a level of respect that I’m sure not everyone gets from him.
“I’m a nurse. We thrive in crisis mode. What do we do now?” I look from him to Troy.
“Now we tell the others and see what the Prez says. Old ladies are off limits in club disputes. But these assholes aren’t the playing-by-the-rules-type of guys.” Spector left abruptly the same way he came in.
“Um, VP. Where should I put these?” Oh shit.
We totally forgot about Torque.
“Master suite,” Troy grumbles, pointing at the way he needs to go.
One of our phones buzzes, and Troy lifts his quickly.
“Time to get dressed. Prez called Church again.” That reminds me.
“I need your terms explained. Why is it called church?” Troy smiles and lifts his chin.
“I love teachable moments. TOOL! Why do we call a club meeting Church?” Torque stops walking and falls to attention like a soldier.
“All mandatory meetings are referred to as Church to signify the sacred bond the brothers have for the club. No information shared in those walls shall be discussed outside of club members, including old ladies, unless pertaining to them directly.” Troy nods with a grin.
“Dismissed.” Torque rushes out, closing the door behind him.
“So it’s like doctor-patient privilege.” He chuckles but nods.
“Basically. With dire consequences if the sanctity of trust is broken.” Oh, okay.
“How about tool?” Now he really laughs.
“That’s more of an internal club joke. We call all our prospecting new members Tools and the building they bunk in The Box.
One, because most are tools, but mostly cause of a joke that stuck.
Now all the new prospects get a generic tool name until they’re granted full member status.
Gives us a chance to learn their personalities to figure out their real road names.
” The way his eyes light up as he shares this part of himself with me makes me smile.
“Thank you for telling me. I’ll understand more of what the hell is going on around me now.” He kisses me softly and then starts cleaning up breakfast.
“Go unpack. I’ll finish here, and Babe?” I turn to look back at him.
“Skip the underwear.”