15. Chapter 15
Myth
“Yeah.”
“Myth,” the man on the other end said. “Heard you’re in need of some assistance with your ol’ lady.”
“Creed caught you up, then?”
“As much as one could do when he’s not involved,” Bully chuckled. “What do you need?”
“My ol’ lady, she ain’t leaving to go back to the UK. I need you to ship her shit here and give the asshole she’s living with a good working over.”
Bully chuckled. “Oh you got it. Send me the details, and I’ll send you word once it’s done.”
I ended the call and had Frenzy shoot over the details to Bully on an encrypted line. After leaving Rox passed out in bed, I knew I had to leave the room or else I’d fall asleep inside her and never leave the room again.
“Everything good, Prez?” Menace asked from the door to our Chapel.
“Got an update on the Scorpions?”
“Nothing as yet,” he replied, crossing his arms over his chest. “The threat is still on your ol’ lady. Maybe you should move her to a safe house for now.”
“She’s safer with me.”
“You can’t protect the club and her at the same time. Cowboy can help here. He knows her, and he’d protect her more than you can when you’ve got an active threat on you.”
I didn’t want to agree. The thought of losing sight of her was churning my gut, but he was right. The Bloody Scorpions had threatened her, and they knew she was my weakness. If it came down to the club or her, I’d protect her, and that was unbecoming of a President. I had a club to protect.
“Get Cowboy here.”
Menace nodded and moved out of the room. I ran my hand down over my face and back up over my hair. Fuck. I didn’t like this. I didn’t want to take my eyes off her, not when she was so close to choosing me again.
“Prez,” I heard my enforcer, Destroyer, call out from the main part of the clubhouse. Oh jesus fucking christ, what now?
Moving from the Chapel to the main area, I saw the reason for the call. Destroyer stood with his arms crossed over his chest, standing next to Fang, in the same position, and the weak toad-faced man I hated with everything in me.
Oh shit. This just got good.
“I want to see her,” he demanded, his voice wavering slightly, but he stood tall. I had to give him props for that. Not many could do that with both Fang and Destroyer looking down at you like you were chopped liver.
“You’ll have to be more specific,” I said, trying to keep the humour out of my voice. “There’s a few hers in here.”
I leaned my elbow over the bar, and waited for the boys to move away. Beck was forced to step around them, looking absolutely flabbergasted. His eyes landed on me and I saw the unbridled fury behind them.
“You’re the ex.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about, mate,” I replied. “Might need to be a little more specific.”
“Where’s Roxana?”
“No one here by that name, mate,” Destroyer said. “Fuck off.”
I smirked at my enforcer. He was a brute. A no-nonsense ex-Bratva brute who took no prisoners. It was why he was so great at his job.
“Roxana!” he called out loudly. I could feel my fingers turning into my palms, my fists ready to pound some flesh if he woke my woman up. Fang stepped in his way again, blocking him from view.
This fucker was going to lose his life if he so much as tried to get close to Rox. Beck relaxed for a moment, and I knew she’d come out of the room. Her soft perfume wafted from behind me, as she rounded the bar and stood in the middle of the room.
“Beck…what are you doing here?”
Her voice was soft, timid almost, and it made me move my eyes toward her. She stood there, in a shirt, covering her tattoos, and a jacket. She didn’t look freshly fucked and that was a travesty in itself, but I knew I had pumped her full of me so that was something at least.
“What am I doing here?” he repeated, almost as if she’d slapped him. “What are you doing here? I told you I wouldn’t allow you to sully yourself again.”
Was this joker for real?
In my clubhouse? He insults my wife in my clubhouse?
“You best get to steppin’, mate. You don’t come in here and insult my ol’ lady like that.”
“Your ol’ lady?” Beck repeated again, incredulous. I raised my eyebrow at him as he got hot under his collar. The fucker had worn a sweater and slacks to a clubhouse in the middle of an Australian summer. He had to be sweating under those threads.
“Ah, I see…you’re claiming your old property, are you?” he sneered toward me. “Come on, Roxana, you’re done playing biker whore.”
I pushed her behind me, and the sound in the clubhouse was of every brother standing up, pushing their chairs back, as they rallied around us.
“What did you just say?” I found my voice level, even though I was furious. I had no idea how I hadn’t launched myself across the room and strangled the fucker yet.
“Adrian,” I heard my Rox say, pushing past me. “You knew this was going to happen. You knew I was leaving. There’s no point in denying it. I have to go.”
“No,” I said, without looking at her. “He needs to leave before he goes out in a body bag.”
“Please, let me talk to him at least.”
“Enough of this,” Beck said, moving past Fang and grabbing Rox by the wrist. The wince of pain on her face was momentary, but it was enough to send my blood into a boil.
Stepping forward, I grabbed his wrist, squeezing until his mouth opened in a wince and he let Rox’s arm go.
“You don’t come into my clubhouse and touch what’s mine.”
Beck looked into my eyes, and I saw it. The look of rage, the widened pupils. This fucker was higher than a kite. “She isn’t yours.”
“You sure about that?” I countered, blocking his sight of her, my hand squeezing harder on his wrist. I could feel his bones under my fingers. The urge to snap those bones was high.
“She’s my fiancée.”
“And she’s my wife,” I said. “I find it hard to believe your government would allow her to marry when she’s already legally married.
Even if I were open to the idea of sharing my ol’ lady, which I’m not, you couldn’t handle the kind of relationship we have.
So here’s your chance, fuckhead. Back out of this clubhouse, get in your car, and go home, before we send your ashes to whatever family you have over there. ”
“Adrian,” Rox put her hand on my back, and instantly I felt a shudder of calm rush over me. That was the effect she had over me. I didn’t want to force her hand anymore. I wanted her to choose me. To choose us.
“You got a choice to make, Rox. You better make sure you make the right one.”
Rox
The right choice.
How could it be so simple? Myth looked like he was ready to snap Beck’s wrist, and I had no idea what to do. A life with Beck seemed so easy, I could just leave. He’d be pissed, sure, especially when he saw my stomach, but he’d get over it and I could go back to the safe life I had over there.
But I missed Myth. I missed his intensity, how he made me feel like I was the only woman in the world.
I could see myself being back here, being his again, and that’s what was so scary. I didn’t hate him for tattooing me while I was passed out, in fact, I loved how it made me feel.
Wanted.
“You know what,” Beck said, shaking his head. “I’ll be at the Sheraton until tomorrow morning. You either come home with me, or I’ll have no choice but to tell everyone over there what you’ve become.”
“Please, Beck,” I tried. “I need to talk with Adrian. I need to think about things.”
“Like what?”
“Please…trust me in this.”
He shook his head and called me something colourful under his breath before he was followed out of the clubhouse. The air in here was still stifling, full of testosterone. I had no doubt that if he’d tried anything, the boys would have held him down while Myth destroyed his body.
Turning, I looked over at Myth. He wasn’t smug, he wasn’t anything. His eyes were on mine, searching, wanting to know what I was thinking.
This same man who had destroyed me once upon a time may just be my salvation, but I had to do it. I needed to resolve the past before I could look to the future.
“What is it, kitten?” he asked. “I can see the wheels turning in that beautiful brain of yours.”
“Why don’t you tell me what happened to Stacey.”
The air in the room froze. No one spoke. No one looked at me, and Myth looked like he wanted to burn the clubhouse to the ground around him.
“Do you trust me?” he asked once he closed the distance between us.
“You know I do.”
“I need to show you something.”
“Adrian–”
“Trust me, Rox.”
He held his hand out to me. I just needed to take it. To show him I did, in fact, trust him. It was a simple act, and although the very question of why Stacey was no longer spoken about, or even here, should tell me something, however, I needed to hear it. I needed to know why he broke us.
I took his hand and let him lead me out to his bike.
One way or another, I would get answers today.