Chapter 33 #4
“They took his phone, doll,” I remind her. “If he activated the new phone, I’m sure he’s got a new number.”
“Oh…right. I forgot.” She sighs, then asks, “Did you talk to your MC?”
I nod. “Talked to Ford Focus too… He doesn’t seem to think he was in the wrong about anything he said or did.”
“Jerk,” she mumbles.
“You wanna give me your version of events? I can’t allow anyone to disrespect my woman. My queen. Our First Lady.”
“Oh, you mean my voice counts for something?” she snarkily comments.
“Vanna, you know it does. And had you stuck around, I could have dealt with it then and there.”
She lets out another frustrated sigh. “It was more so his tone. Like he was ordering me to do something like some of these guys talk to the patch-chasers.”
“What did he tell you to do?”
Her pretty eyes narrow at me. “ It was his tone.” I wait patiently for her to elaborate, and she finally does.
“After he called Legion a groomer , which by the way, is a terrible thing to say to someone who actually is a victim! He told me to take Ace from him, and then, like I was being written up or something for some kind of bullshit misconduct , he said he was going to have to tell you about this.”
“Alright… I’m sorry you took offense. I’ll speak with him the first chance I get.”
“ Good,” she grumbles, shifting on the couch to place her feet in my lap. “I thought you were going to stay until closing tonight.”
“You were upset. I wanted to come to you as soon as possible,” I say, placing my hand on her shin to stroke her leg over her velour pajama pants.
“I really don’t like the abuse Legion is subjected to,” she says.
“Legion’s done a lot to warrant it, baby.”
She shakes her head. “Not when it comes to this kind of thing. Don’t you remember how that particular C-word made you feel?
And not to diminish what you went through, or excuse those who took part in it, but there’s a difference between kink-shaming someone and accusing someone of a heinous crime involving children.
Neither is okay, but one is clearly worse.
If you truly believed Legion was capable of that, you would never have permitted him anywhere near us. ”
“I distinctly recall threatening his life if he did. That fucking leverage he’s holding over us forced some leniency.”
She gives me a wry look. “You don’t believe he’d ever hurt a child.”
“I don’t know him, Vanna. And to be frank, neither do you.”
“I know he’s not one of those monsters.”
“There’s no way to know that.”
“In my soul, I do. He’d kill himself before he’d ever do anything to harm a kid.”
“You trust him enough to leave Ace alone with him?” I press her and silently pray for a little sanity here.
“No,” she says, thank the fucking Gods . “But I wouldn’t leave Ace with anyone besides Viking, Cherry, and Axel. Or Viper and Rosita. I don’t think Diesel or Chopper or Dozer would ever harm Ace, either. It’s just something I wouldn’t do.”
“Well, I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
Her head tilts slightly as she continues to stare at me. “Do you think I’m a bad mother?”
“Fuck no, Vanna. Where do you come up with this shit?”
“You don’t want another kid with me,” she starts, and I’m about to begin praying again. “I almost lost Ace at the Halloween shop. I almost dropped him, and he would have split his damn head open on the floor at the Twisted Throttle if Legion hadn’t caught him.”
“Vanna, kids pull stunts like this. It comes with the job. I think you’re the best mother Ace could ever ask for.
” I sigh, then pull out my cellphone to check the tracking on a gift for him I’m hoping arrives by tomorrow.
“Speaking of Ace splitting his head open, I ordered him a new helmet for Christmas to match his new bike.”
“His new bike?”
“Viking put it up in the attic while we were at the cabin. He’s gonna help me bring it down tomorrow night so you can wrap it in time for Christmas morning. We’ll just hide it in our closet until then.”
“ You two got him a motorcycle?”
“A black one, looks like a miniature Serene, only Axel airbrushed the Saviors MC rocker on the tank. He’s gonna lose his damn mind when he sees it. Viking’s spending the night so he can see Ace’s face when he opens it.”
“I’m sure he’s going to be thrilled, but… how fast does it go? He can’t even ride a bicycle yet.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t take off the governor until he can handle it, and it’s got a set of detachable training wheels, too.”
“How fast, Dean?”
“I can run faster, don’t worry. It doesn’t go over ten miles per hour, and he’ll only be able to ride it when he’s around me, okay?”
“Oh god, what if he falls?”
“He’s probably gonna.”
“ Dean!”
“Kids fall, doll. You just have to gaslight them, dust off their asses, and put them back on the bike. He’s gonna love it.”
She shakes her head, but then finally admits, “He will love it. But you’re all still insane.” She shifts her position on the couch to sit beside me, and I drape an arm around her as she rests her head against me. “What was the meeting about tonight? Seemed important.”
“Rusty. He came by to clear some things up about his dealings with Legion. Apparently, in exchange for some banking assistance, Legion is footing the expenses for Rusty’s mother’s medical bills.
He still claims he never meant to hurt the MC.
Wants us to reconsider letting him back in as a prospect again. ”
To my surprise, she doesn’t comment or ask any questions.
For a little while, we sit in silence, letting the quiet moment settle between us as we admire the golden-hued lights and ornaments on the Christmas tree.
My gaze travels up to the star glowing at the top, and I feel the familiar block of ice forming in the pit of my stomach again as Legion’s tattoo and taunting words play over in my mind.
“Dean?” Her voice breaks the stillness, soft but laced with a measure of anxiety as if she can sense my own.
“Yeah, doll?”
“What if Legion doesn’t come back?”
If only…
“If it wasn’t for the leverage situation, I’d say it would be fuckin’ Aces, baby…
We’ve got a standing truce with these drug runners to keep their shit out of our county and away from the Jokers’ clubhouse.
I can’t save the world, doll. All I can do is keep you and Ace safe and our county clean to the best of our ability. ”
“You really don’t trust him at all?”
“I trust that we share this common goal. Beyond that, baby…lies a really big leap of faith I’m not sure either of us is capable of making.”
T he bass feels like it’s vibrating my ribcage, still sore from the ride out to the Raunch Ranch.
The lights paint the stage in pulsing red and blue like a crime scene, while I nurse another drink I really don’t want.
This joint reeks of whiskey and cheap perfume, mixed with sweat and desperation…
and I wonder if the latter is me. I grip the glass, keeping my eyes locked on the stage as the music pounds, dulling the edges of my thoughts, but not enough. Not nearly enough.
Puppet moves like she was made for this. Every twist of her hips, every teasing slip of fabric designed to drag bills from wallets and make men forget themselves. But I don’t forget. I remember everything in painful detail.
I should be concerned over who else might be watching her…
waiting for me … Though I have been granted a stay of execution.
Even if that weren’t the case, I don’t care.
I feel too empty to care. I tell myself I’m only here to meet Rusty, to find out what little he told Keegan, to distract myself while I wait…
that watching Puppet shed her clothes and her dignity is some kind of twisted way to reclaim my pride…
.to remind myself I’m still the man I’ve always been, un-fucking-touchable.
Except that isn’t true anymore…and there’s another woman to blame… Vanna…
I hate that I give a fuck what she thinks of me, what anyone in that crew thinks of me. I let the shame crawl under my skin when she defended me in front of Keegan, like I needed saving, like I was fucking weak.
I take another drink, choking down the rage I still feel at what that little prick bouncer insinuated. I wanted to slash his throat and spray the bar with his blood. I know what I am. A bastard. A criminal. A killer. A man who never believed in redemption until I looked in her eyes…
Fuck… She knows I’m not that kind of monster… And maybe she doesn’t think I’m beyond saving…
Perhaps this isn’t reality, though. Perhaps this is simply the Seven of Cups…
Reality is Puppet on stage, peeling away the last scraps of lace…locking eyes with me as I lift my glass in salute of her degradation. She smirks at me like she knows why I’m here.
I force a smirk back because I know she doesn’t. Not the entire scope of our demented dynamic, anyway. She slides down to her knees, hands trailing up her body, into her long, black hair, putting on a show…and I pretend I’m not drowning .