Chapter 44
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
RATTLER
Ireally didn’t want to leave my woman, but at least she was in good hands with Trixie.
If Ames needed me, she’d come and get me.
Nevertheless, I walk into church, wishing I could have stayed with her.
Seeing Satin killed in front of her had messed with her head, her reaction had scared the fuck out of me.
Because of my slow progress, I’m the last person in. Surprisingly patient, Bullseye waits until I take my seat. Woody, who’s sat next to me, stands, helps me with my crutches, then holds my arm as I sit. I send him a chin lift of appreciation. Fuck, I hate being so helpless.
Once I’m settled, Bullseye bangs the gavel. It’s ceremonial rather than necessary, as all eyes are already looking at him, all of us anxious to know why he’s called this emergency meeting.
He glances around the table and sighs. “I’ve just taken a phone call from the Pakhan.
” I sit up straighter as he’s caught my interest. For a moment his stare lands on me, then he moves it away.
“In my first phone call to him, I’d laid out everything as we discussed.
He asked for time to think.” He pauses, and pinches his nose, before looking back up.
“This was his second call. He sounded cagey about Volkov. Whatever’s going to happen to him, he’ll keep it in-house.
Positively, he did confirm the hit on the clubhouse wasn’t Bratva sanctioned.
We’re off the hook, as we suspected, none of those killed during the attack, nor the ones Rat disposed of at the cabin, were his men. ”
Words grumbles. “Can we please keep the fuckin’ body count down? The cremator will need an upgrade if we keep up like this.”
I, on the other hand, tilt my head to one side, surely this is good news?
But Prez’s expression suggests it’s anything but, as he continues with his eyes again fixed firmly on me.
“He also said that money owed to the casino was money owed to the Bratva, and that the debt was still to be paid.” It’s now his face grows thunderous.
“He stated Stone made promises which need to be kept. Therefore, as arranged, Stone’s sister should still marry into the Bratva.
If not Volkov, one of his boeviks. His enforcers,” he clarifies.
Fucking what? “She’s married to me.” My fist meets the table.
Prez fixes his eyes on me. “Stone’s debt was a drop on the ocean compared to what Ames stands to inherit.
Word of your marriage hasn’t yet reached him, and I decided to hold that little tidbit back.
Don’t want them starting to think there’s an obstacle that needs to be got out of the way.
” Sighing, he brushes his hands back through his hair.
“I’ve since spoken to Big Daddy.” He references our national prez.
“It’s only been weeks since we pitted ourselves against the New York Mafia… ”
“We got away with that,” Freak growls. “We left Alongi’s body in New York. It was put down as a local hit, or that’s what our New York brothers told us.”
Paying him the same amount of attention as he paid me, in other words, none, Prez continues, “He reckons we’ve already skirted too close to the fuckin’ sun. He doesn’t want the Kings to make enemies of the Bratva.”
Saint gets in before I can. “He’s not suggesting we simply hand Rat’s legal wife over?”
Prez shrugs. “He wants things smoothed over in a way that doesn’t make waves.
He’s not suggesting that, per se, but he wants us to come up with options that don’t include starting a war.
” He pauses, “He knows Rattler and Ames’s marriage is only on paper.
Therefore, club property doesn’t apply.” A resigned look comes over his face.
“It might have been easier if it wasn’t Rattler who’s caught up in the middle of this.
” Sighing, he looks my way, “You do have a reputation as an asshole.”
Well, fuck. I raise my hand, Bullseye indicates I can talk. “It’s past time that I apologise for my behaviour. I got a fucked-up past, can’t trust a good thing when I see it, as Ames pointed out. But I can change…”
“Don’t want you to fuckin’ change, Bro.” It’s Tempest who speaks. “I fuckin’ missed you keeping us on our toes while you were at the cabin.”
“You didn’t bear the brunt of his jibes,” Short points out, then shaking his head, adds, “But you’re right.”
“I’d just like you to rein it in, but still rattle our chains.” Saint leans over the table to address me directly. “Sometimes we need it.”
Stalker plants both his fists on the table, it seems he’s focused on the main point. “I respect Big Daddy, but he can’t tell us to give up a brother’s ol’ lady.”
“But is that what she is?” Prez asks, his eyes fixed firmly on me. “Is she part of the club? If so she’s under our protection. If she’s going to get up and go…”
“She’s mine,” I snarl. “She ain’t going nowhere.” I force my temper down. “I’d like to put it to an official vote, and ask permission to claim her as my ol’ lady.”
“Never thought I’d see the fuckin’ day…” Piston snorts.
“Am I hallucinating? Woody, does my forehead seem hot?” Paint leans toward the road captain who shoves him away.
“Simmer the fuck down.” Bullseye snarls. “Brother’s asked. Gotta take it seriously and give him his answer. Going take a quick vote. Anyone against?”
Anxiously I look around, but all hands stay down.
“So carried,” Bullseye shakes his head. “And another brother goes down.”
Brothers start banging their hands on the table and stomping their feet. The two sitting beside me, Words and Paint, slap my back. Fucking hard. Lancelot gets out of his chair and comes around to shake my hand.
When the racket starts to die down, I notice Tempest is looking serious. “Now she’s one of ours, we just got to figure out how to keep her alive.”
Words suddenly straightens. “I got an idea, but we’d need to run it by Ames. It would be a fuck of a lot to ask of her. But it should work, it has before.”
“What the fuck you rambling on about, Brother?” Piston asks.
“Yeah, you got a plan, spit it out,” Woody demands.
I fix my eyes on him. There are only two options as far as I can tell, give up Ames to the Bratva — which would literally have to happen over my dead body. Or go to war. Possibly on our own, if Big Daddy refused to let the other clubs support us.
Prez simply raises a brow toward Words. And that’s all he needs to start talking.
“I’ve got Satin’s body in my freezer. Haven’t cremated her yet, was waiting to put her in with another. What if we did another Pippa?”
My brow creases, and so do a number of others around the table.
Words looks frustrated that we’re not already inside his head, as Prez demands, “Spell it out, Brother.”
After a heavy sigh, he does. “We tell the Pakhan that Satin, who Volkov sent into the club for that very purpose, succeeded in killing Ames — from the way she spoke neither of them knew Stone was no longer breathing and wasn’t around to claim her inheritance.
” When he pauses for breath, Prez makes a give me more gesture.
Words grins. “We get Pippa to swap out the details like Ace did for her. Change Satin’s DNA to hers, blood group, dental records.
Hell, if a teenager can do it, Pippa can. ”
“Wouldn’t work if Stone had showed Volkov a photo of her. Which he surely would have done for Volkov to commit to marriage,” Paint observes.
Freak suddenly grins, and his nostrils flare. “Satin and Ames presented themselves to me as sisters. I didn’t query it. They’re both blondes, though Satin is a few inches taller.”
“And if they demand to see her, I got a cosmetologist who can work fucking miracles. Or, maybe to make it easier, maybe shoot her in the face,” Words suggests. “And that’s what everyone looks at for identity purposes. They don’t bring a fuckin’ tape measure.”
“What happens to her inheritance?” Predictably it’s Stalker who asks.
Tempest grins. “With Stone dead, it would go to Rat, he’s her legal husband after all. Same with the insurance payout.”
“Wouldn’t that cause issues? Would the insurance pay out at all?” Saint queries.
Tempest inclines his head toward the VP. “I’m sure your old lady can close all the loopholes. Make it airtight.”
Genie raises his hand. “Been keeping an ear to the ground. Cops found the car, they’re still in the process of identifying the burned out corpse. But they’ve got a head start as it was Stone’s car. They just need to prove it was him driving, and that the death was accidental.”
“No doubt of that,” Freak grins. “I made sure of it. Just a fuck of a time for his brakes to fail.” And there’s no one brave or stupid enough to question the enforcer’s expertise.
Genie continues, “Ames would need to step forward and deal with Stone’s lawyer, the executor of his will. But say Ames was to ‘die’, her next of kin,” he inclines his head toward me, “Would have to do it all.”
I frown. Legalese and dealing with lawyers isn’t my forte. “I’d need help.”
“Club’s lawyer would do all that,” Saint tells me, seemingly on board with the plan.
Prez has been listening, now he motions he’s going to speak.
“There’s a lot of ground to go over here.
Firstly, would Ames agree to ‘die’ and take a new identity?
She’d have to consider the ramifications.
And if so, would she be safe to stay here?
Is there a risk she could be recognised?
Secondly, aren’t we transferring the problem, if it’s Rat who ends up with the money? ”
“Rat’s got no connection to Volkov or the Russians. Even if they put out a hit on him, it serves them nothing but revenge.” Saint presses his lips together. “But just to be sure, Rat can write a will leaving everything he owns to the club.”
Gee thanks, VP. For making plans in case I die.
“I don’t want the money,” I tell them. “But what if I agree with Volkov to give it to him? It gets him off our backs.”
“And for what reason?” Paint asks. “That would be like a signed confession we were up to something.”