Chapter 30 #5
Tension immediately leaves his body, and he grabs the bottle of water on the night table.
After chugging a few gulps, he relaxes against the mattress once more.
“I’m not playing anyone,” he reiterates, “I would only consider the offer as an opportunity to maneuver myself into a position to better serve you . But they’d keep tabs on me…
test my loyalty . I guarantee that would not only prove problematic for us both, but they would go for the jugular, and we both know what that would involve.
It’s a risky play, and the severity of this beating leads me to believe this is a one-time offer…
Bear these facts in mind while you weigh all of your options.
Hell, take it to the table and vote on it.
I’ll do what you decide. Just consider my cover blown if they require a move on Vanna. ”
The door creaks on its hinges, and his scowling eyes slide toward the sound, then widen instantly when Vanna steps into the room with us.
She’s holding a large, steaming mug with a stainless-steel utensil sticking out of it.
I instantly recognize the savory aroma, and another wave of jealousy rolls through me.
“I heated you up some pastina soup from home,” she says, quietly closing the door behind her. “It helps everything… I always keep some frozen in case of an emergency.”
The way Legion’s fucking mug morphs from concern over what she might have heard to elation at her thoughtful gesture makes me want to blacken his other fucking eye.
I try not to grit my teeth as she steps further into the room to carefully hand him what I know tastes exactly like a bowl full of love.
“Italians jokingly call this penicillin soup ,” she says. “I figured you might be hungry and would have an easier time keeping this down with your pain pills.”
“Your consideration is touching, sweet one,” Legion says with a smile that might be the first genuine one I’ve ever seen stretch his demonic features. I hope he burns his fucking mouth .
I struggle to keep my expression neutral when Vanna turns to face me. “I didn’t know if you had work to do at the shop after Church, but I made you lunch, too.”
“Thank you,” I say, trying to gauge whether or not she’s still mad at me.
“Can we talk?” she asks, a slight level of timidness in her tone, as if concerned I might refuse her request.
“Of course.” I gesture to the door and move to follow her the instant she takes a few steps toward it, but she stops to glance back at Legion.
“I hope it helps,” she says, offering him a tight-lipped smile.
I spare him one last disdainful glare as I grab the doorknob and open it for her to proceed.
He’s still grinning like she handed him a pot of gold.
Before he can swallow and reply with some irritating, exemplary compliment on her culinary skills or some other worshipful wordy praise of her kind nature, I herd her into the hall and shut the door behind us.
She glances up at me suspiciously but proceeds in the direction of the kitchen without commenting on our hasty departure. When we reach the kitchen, I take a seat at the table while she removes what looks like a wrapped hero from the fridge and brings it to me.
“Do you want a plate? It’s a breaded cutlet from the other night when I made chicken parm. I put it on Italian bread with some lettuce, tomato, and vinaigrette.”
My mouth is already watering. “No, I can use the wrapping,” I say, eagerly separating the foil and grabbing the first half of the sandwich.
“Well, eat fast before Viking smells food.” She isn’t kidding, and I’m not about to share her cooking with anyone else right now.
“What did you want to talk about?” I ask around a big bite.
“Did you really think I would feed him and not bring you something too, you psycho?” she teases, grabbing a rag, a roll of paper towels from a cabinet, and a small plastic container with what appears to be soapy water from the counter beside the sink.
She places them down on the table across from me, before grabbing the leather jacket I just noticed was draped over the back of the other kitchen chair.
“Do you think I haven’t picked up on a few of your…
quirks after four years together?” She sits down with the jacket in her lap, and I catch a glimpse of the embroidered demon skull on the back of it.
That’s Legion’s fucking leather jacket she’s about to hand-clean for him.
I finish chewing before attempting to speak again. “It’s not a quirk. Any man who values his woman is territorial of her cooking, too. And don’t think for a second Legion isn’t aware of that fact. That’s a majority of the reason he was so fuckin’ pleased.”
She presses her lips together, rolling them in for a moment to compose herself as she dips the rag into the container and begins to gently scrub his fucking jacket. “Dean… maybe he was just hungry.”
“When a woman makes food, it’s an act of nurturing that the male species traditionally associates with intimacy . It’s an intimate , personal gesture, and you’re damn right I’m territorial and selective over who you cook for. Let this be the last time you cook anything for that prick.”
“You never seem to mind when I cook for all of your friends for special occasions and holidays,” she presses.
“That’s completely different. That’s a family setting. Not the same thing by a long shot. And I think you know that… Quit being a ball-buster.”
She sighs and rolls her eyes at me while I take another large bite. “I really don’t want to fight with you, Dean. But we need to be able to talk about Legion without you flying off the handle.”
“Well, since we’re on the topic, my Old Lady shouldn’t be handling— let alone cleaning —another biker’s fuckin’ leather.”
She stops scrubbing to sit up straight and stare back at me. “Is this a joke?”
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
She bites her bottom lip in another attempt to suppress a smile. “You’re all insane. All of you.”
“Yeah, well, can’t say I didn’t warn you.”
She shakes her head at me, and I take another bite.
“Before I brought Legion his pastina—” she begins, but I interrupt to correct her.
“ My pastina.”
“I heard you two talking,” she continues, but her smile fades. “Should I be worried?”
In my rush to ask what exactly she overheard , I swallow too soon, and an unchewed piece of breaded chicken scrapes down my esophagus, delaying my ability to voice the question.
She must realize on her own and goes on to say, “What did Legion mean…‘ make a move’ on me?”
“It was a hypothetical statement that will never come to pass. I don’t want you worrying about it.”
She nods, lowering her eyes from mine, but her brows pitch together as she leans back in the chair, pulling his jacket into her lap and picking at the white strings where his Chrome Demons’ Vice President patch used to be.
“What else?” I ask. She peers up at me as if she expects to be on the receiving end of another outburst. “I’m sorry I raised my voice to you last night.”
“You’ve been saying that a lot lately,” she sighs, and I immediately lose my appetite as guilt wracks my system. “I know how stressed out you’ve been… But there’s no reason to get yourself so worked up over Legion. He isn’t a threat. Not to the club. Not to our relationship.”
Now is not the time to incite round three.
Instead, I tell her, “Christmas Eve is already next week. I still have to go up to the cabin and make sure it’s winterized for the season.
I should have already had that done. Why don’t you and Ace come with me?
It’s not like we still have to decorate the house.
And I’ll help you wrap whatever gifts are left. ”
“Maybe a little getaway is a good idea,” she says to my surprise and elation. “But don’t you want to open presents with Ace at home under our tree? And you know Viking is looking forward to the meal on Christmas Eve.”
“We could be back by then. I’ll have us home the day before Christmas Eve. Plus, it will give Viking plenty of opportunity to sneak in Ace’s big present.”
“Which is?”
“You don’t want to be surprised with him?”
“I don’t know, I’ll think about it. I know there’s something biker-business-wise going on… Are you sure leaving town now is a good idea?”
“Legion’s ass whooping bought us a couple of weeks’ reprieve from all that,” I say, reaching across the table for her hand. She places hers in mine, and I gently caress it with my thumb. “You and Ace are my priority, and I promised you only happy memories on Christmas Eve.”
She playfully scowls at me. “But you just promised to have us home by Christmas Eve.”
“Then I’ll extend it to Eve’s Eve.” I sigh. “If I don’t get a breather from Legion soon, doll, I might just kill him myself. Can we consider this mini getaway an early Christmas gift?”
“If you’ll grant me one as well.”
“You know I’ll give you anything you want.”
“We’ll see,” she says, placing the jacket back on the table and standing. She doesn’t let go of my hand, and what levity I may have been feeling these last few moments with her, dissipates with every step we take in the direction of Legion’s room.
“ W hat are you doing?” Dean asks as I lead him back down the hall.
“Ending this alpha-male-bullshit.” I swing the door open and flick on the light to a grimacing Legion lying on the bed. He blinks from the sudden brightness, squinting up at me curiously.
Dean grips my hand tighter and tugs my arm as I move to take a step further into the room. “Vanna….” he growls in warning, but I’m determined.
“What’s wrong?” Legion asks, his gaze never leaving me.
“Swear to me you will never hurt my husband.”
“I have,” Legion says.
“Swear to him, then,” I insist.
He shifts his focus momentarily to Dean. “You both have my word. Again .”
I glance up at Dean. “Now promise me you won’t do anything to hurt him.”
Before Dean can say anything, Legion interrupts, “Your husband isn’t the one responsible for what happ?—”
“ Legion.” I shoot him a look that shuts him right up. He lies back against his pillows, an amused smirk on his face now as he shifts his attention back to a fuming Dean, standing rigidly in the doorway.
“Promise.” I glare up at him. “Promise me you’re not going to do, or let , something like this or worse happen to him again, and especially not by the hand of a Savior. Including yours.”
The scowl in Dean’s eyes intensifies as he shifts his attention toward the bed. When I glance back at Legion, he’s got his fingers threaded against his stomach, twiddling his thumbs, an antagonistic smile on his bruised face as he stares expectantly back at Dean.
“Dean…” I press, and my husband’s gaze drops to stare into mine, lips pressing into a stubborn, hard line. “I’m pulling rank, honey.”
“You’re an Old Lady, Vanna… You have no official rank within this MC,” Dean mutters.
“I do where it counts,” I say, placing my hand over his heart.
Legion chuckles behind me. “She’s got you by the balls there, too, pres .”
“ You shut up.” I glare over my shoulder at Legion once again. “I’ve never seen ice so thin as the spot you’re standing on!”
“ Yes, ma’am .” Legion grins as if he enjoyed being scolded.
Shifting so I’m able to look at them both, I let out an exasperated sigh.
“I’m sick of this tension. I’m sick of dwelling on the past. None of us wants to keep reliving any of it.
And I’m tired of the bloodshed. Make an effort to get along or at least tolerate each other.
You don’t have to be best friends, but this antagonistic bullshit,” I glare at Legion pointedly, before turning back to Dean, “I’m tired of it all. I just want peace.”
“ I promise I won’t kill him ,” Dean grumbles.
I make my way over to the bedside table to retrieve Legion’s soup mug and smile down at him. “How hard was that?” Neither of them comments. “Would you like some more pastina?”
“I would love some more of your pastina, sweet one.” Legion cracks a suspicious smile.
I take Dean by the hand again and we exit Legion’s room, heading back to the kitchen.
“What the fuck was that?” Dean asks.
“You’re just going to have to trust me,” I whisper, just in case. “He’s not going to give up that leverage until he believes you’re not going to kill him.”
“Good luck with that.”
I peer up at him as we continue to the kitchen. “If this doesn’t work, I’ll just bring in the big guns.”
“ The big guns?” Dean arches a curious brow.
“Yes. My feminine wiles.”
The playful grin slides right off his face. “ Hold up … There will be no slinging of feminine wiles!”
“Oh, stop,” I laugh, stepping into the kitchen to prepare another serving of pastina soup. Dean practically hovers over me the entire time, internally panicking, I’m sure. “Don’t you have repairs to wrap up in your shop and roadhouse arrangements to make before we head to the cabin tomorrow?”
“Vanna, Legion is already enamored with all your wiles… Don’t encourage him.”
I turn around to face him, leaning against the counter while I wait for the soup on the stove to heat up. He’s got one fist balled against his hip, and the other gripping the back of his neck.
“You do realize feminine wiles encompass far more than seduction, don’t you?
At least in the sense you’re clearly worried about,” I say.
He only continues to stare at me, eyes searching mine, warring with his own protective inclinations.
“Just trust me, Dean. Legion isn’t the only one who’s learned to survive through psychological warfare. ”
“You care about him,” he finally says.
I nod. “The way most women care for the lost and broken.”
“You’re not most women. You’re my woman . And he wants what is mine.”
I let out a sigh, and despite believing what I’m about to say, it feels wrong to do so out loud, as if I’m somehow betraying Legion.
But Dean is my husband, my true love … And the only man who has earned my vow of loyalty.
“Dean… I don’t know if Legion has even realized this himself, but…
I don’t think it’s a woman’s love he craves so much… ”
My throat tightens at the memory of his broken pleas. I swallow hard and force the revelation past my lips. “ It’s a mother’s .”