Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Ransom
Ifeel like I’m the muscle tonight, though that’s silly. Wilder, Storm, and fuck me, even Marie, are more than capable of handling themselves.
The energy of the house is full of nerves as we wait for Arsenal, Nick, and Burner to arrive.
Finding out what the boundaries are for Marie’s bond sickness helped make the decision to stay in the house instead of going upstairs to the roof for this meeting, as it’s easier for Lore to remain out of sight.
Wilder is stress cooking while Marie takes a shower to wake up. Lore also insisted she shower after work, because he said she smelled like the hospital. I wouldn’t ever tell her this, but she did kind of smell like antiseptic.
“Take a breath,” Lore says, dropping onto the couch beside me. “At the end of the day, no one wants me permanently dead.”
“Some do,” I grumble. I feel as if I have a black cloud over my head. I can’t seem to shake the dread building inside of me.
“I mean, yes but I killed those people,” Lore says smugly. “I haven’t found anyone else who wants me dead, and Storm has the club listening for chatter for anyone celebrating my death.”
“So you really think your club is going to take it well when you come back and say, ‘just kidding’?” I snort.
“No, but I think the clues that I’m alive are out there for those who know me,” he says. “Storm is hearing dark web chatter about a man named ‘Ghost’ who is killing Knotted Anarchy’s enemies. Apparently, I left quite the calling card.”
“Any thoughts about taking up a road name?” I suggest.
Lore never took one, and no one ever thought twice about it. Devon has one that he uses on the road, but his club doesn’t bother to use it, and neither does Lore’s. We’re so intertwined in some ways, there’s no real reason to call Devon by other than his name.
Granted, I called him Prez, which is its own name as the position commands respect.
“That’s a possibility,” Lore murmurs. “It always felt wrong to have one, as if I didn’t earn one.”
“Nah, I think that the right one didn’t appear until now.”
“I came over to make you feel better, and I think that backfired,” he says. “I know Wilder doesn’t want to be President, but he’s doing really well.”
“No I’m not!” Wilder yells from the kitchen. “If you want to be the ghostly Prez, I’m down for that. I just don’t want to be in charge.”
Lore’s lips twitch as he rolls his eyes.
“No fucking privacy,” he chuckles. “Are you glad you joined our pack, or are you still getting your footing?”
“It’s weird in a way to be here,” I admit. “I feel as if the days are a blur. Marie is my soul match, but all I can catch are stolen moments here and there. I know things happen in their own time, even with Fate sticking her nose in things…”
“Everyone in this house is still figuring their shit out,” Lore says.
“Wilder and Storm aren’t bonded to Marie either, and there are a lot of reasons for that.
Our relationship with Marie was just beginning when I got shot, so now we’re all finding our way.
She’s not working anymore. Why don’t we take a ride out to one of the national parks nearby she wants to go see?
We can all hang out with her with less stress from bond sickness. ”
“You don’t know how far you can be from each other outside?” I ask.
“No, but a few feet shouldn’t be an issue,” Lore says.
“The bond strengthens each day, and I can feel when it’s being stretched too tightly.
As soon as I walked outside I felt it tighten like a guitar string.
The sickness affected me this time, and I had the breath kicked out of my lungs.
I couldn’t breathe, much less walk when Dr. Royal found me.
The phone was in my hand, but I couldn’t speak to anyone.
I never got a chance to make the call. I don’t ever want to feel like that again. ”
“So you’d know if we were riding and you got too far from her, or if she walked away to see something…” I hedge.
“Yes,” he reassures me. “I think I’d be able to tell now that I know what it feels like.”
“Okay,” I breathe.
The doorbell rings, and Lore makes a face.
“That’s about how I feel about this,” I mutter.
Lore jumps up and walks quickly out of the room to get out of sight, and I hear Storm opening the door.
“Where’s the Little Queen?” Arsenal asks loudly, pushing his way into the house.
“For fuck’s sakes. Hello to you too,” Storm laughs, letting the guys in as I walk over.
They all take their boots off at the front door, and I hum in appreciation that they’re not tracking dirt through the house.
“Hi!” Marie says, walking down the stairs. She’s wearing an oversized burnt orange sweatshirt and leggings, but my jaw drops at how gorgeous she looks.
Socks with little bears finish the outfit, and Burner grins as he sees them.
“I’ll never be able to understand how you can pull off an outfit like that,” Storm says, his eyes moving over her appreciatively.
“I don’t know where you’re going to put your weapons,” Arsenal grumbles as Storm closes the door.
Nick chuckles, carrying a good bottle of Irish whiskey and a sheet pan of coffee cake. I think bikers have our own special brand of pleasantries, and I prefer it to the darkness of others.
“Maybe skip trying to figure that out…Fuck.”
Marie easily draws a gun from her thigh, her sweatshirt barely brushing where the holster is. It’s a clean draw, and because the material of the holster is black and so are her leggings, it blends in perfectly.
It also manages to render Nick speechless.
“Damn,” Arsenal says, dropping to his knees. “That was fucking sexy, girl. Can I show you my guns now?”
“Please don’t let that be a euphemism for your dick!” Wilder calls out from the back of the house while I smirk.
My trigger finger is feeling very twitchy, and I can feel Lore’s amusement through the bond.
“Fuck no. Gross,” Arsenal says, standing. He hefts the bag beside him, rolling his eyes. “My dick is definitely bigger than whatever I have in this bag.”
“It’s nice to see you too,” Marie says, grinning.
Her hair is a mass of curls down her back after her nap, and I can see she didn’t wash it again. That’s probably why she insisted on taking her shower alone. We definitely would have fucked up her hair.
“Let’s see what you've been using for protection, Marie, and we can decide what you’ll trade out,” Arsenal says.
Nick passes the alcohol and dessert to Storm, and the alpha appears amused as he begins to leave to deposit the offerings in the kitchen.
“Let’s start drinking once the weapons are put away,” Storm suggests over his shoulder.
Yeahhh. I’m really hoping that no one starts shooting the way they did when Devon was last over. Ugh, no wonder I’m anxious.
“We got a new couch,” Marie says, padding down the rest of the stairs. “We apparently have a bad track record with guns in the house.”
“Who the fuck is shooting inside with you in it?” Nick asks angrily.
“Devon,” I grunt, and the guys groan as if that’s enough explanation.
I suppose it is.
“Are these holsters custom?” Arsenal asks, following Marie into the living room.
“They are,” Storm replies, returning through the other entrance. “I had them made here in Minneapolis.”
Marie turns away and pulls off the holster with one hand, handing it to Arsenal to look at.
“It feels really lightweight,” he says, examining it.
“I wore it to work, and no one could tell,” she says.
At Arsenal’s surprised glance, she shrugs.
“I wanted to see how wearable it would be, and the best way to do that is during a long day.”
“I was starting to wonder if your workplace was that dangerous,” Arsenal grunts.
“How many shifts are you working these days?” Nick asks.
The club has undoubtedly heard how much she used to work. I still can’t believe she’d take back to back night shifts. Wilder told me while she was gone that she worries about money, and it’s only recently that she’s accepting that we’ll take care of her.
I also found out that the house is in Marie’s name. I’m not sure she knows what other accounts Storm has put in her name, but if anything ever happens to us, she is set for life. I never want her to need to live without us, though.
Money doesn’t matter when your heart and soul are ripped into a million pieces.
“As of now, none,” Marie says, reaching into a pocket and pulling another firearm now that she’s facing us. She does it nonchalantly, and I realize she had to have cut out the pocket in her sweatshirt to be able to do that.
She places the gun down for Arsenal to look at and shrugs as he looks from her to the weapon.
“Bra holster. I cut the pocket in my sweatshirt,” she explains. “I have a knife on my other thigh and my stun gun is attached to the back of my bra.”
“I want to see the knife, and I found you a more powerful stun gun I’d like you to try,” Arsenal says, respect in his eyes.
“I’m only going to work as I’m needed,” Marie says, handing those weapons to Arsenal.
“Dr. Royal works at the hospital and sometimes has sensitive cases he needs help with. I’m good with patients, blood draws, and keeping my mouth shut.
He sometimes has patients come in who need to disappear and stay off the radar. ”
“Mafia?” Burner asks. “They’re fucking everywhere in Minneapolis, I swear.”
“Sometimes they’re from the mafia,” Marie admits. “He also works with the omega’s shelter, and they need complete confidentiality. I went into work last night because he texted me for help.”
“He’s not abusing his power right?” Arsenal asks, pursing his lips as he begins to go over the items Marie gave him.
“No,” she says, shaking her head. “Dr. Royal really did need my help. The other nurses there are cunts.”
“Hear, hear,” Nick says, making Marie laugh.
“Okay, one of these guns is still too big for your hands,” Arsenal sighs. “It’s the first issue I see. Also, the recoil on the Smith and Wesson is nasty. Honestly, Storm. What the fuck were you thinking?”