Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Delaney
The class cheers as the bell for lunch sounds off, making me laugh. They all rush toward the door, and I follow behind.
Mrs. Stephensen steps out of her classroom at the same time I do.
“If I weren’t just as hungry as they are, I would be offended that they are so excited to get away from me,” she teases, making me laugh.
“Right? It’s a little insulting, but I need the break as much as they do.”
Once we see that our kids are safely inside the cafeteria, we head to the teachers’ lounge.
“Whatever you made smells amazing,” I tell her as she sits down across from me.
“It’s just some lasagna my husband made.” She smiles.
“You found a man who can cook? Show me your ways,” I tease, making her laugh.
“He found me. I take it you’re single.”
Without overthinking it, I reply, “I actually just started seeing someone. It’s new…maybe I should ask him if he cooks.”
Clear as day, I can picture Tank standing at the stove with nothing but an apron on and a butt plug in his ass as he cooks me dinner.
“I want to know what just made you turn red, but I won’t ask what you are thinking about.”
“I appreciate it.” I chuckle lightly.
“It must be really new if you don’t know if he can cook or not,” she teases.
I blush harder. “We’ve only been on a couple of dates.”
“Bless you. I’ve been with my husband for so long that I honestly can’t imagine dating in this day and age. It actually sounds exhausting.”
“You aren’t wrong,” I muse. “Enough about me, though. How’s this school year going for you?”
She groans. “I swear every year I think this will be the easiest class I’ve ever had, and then about midway through, they pop off and ruin it. Don’t get me wrong, I love the kids, but sometimes I just wonder what they become possessed by.”
I shake my head, smiling. “I had a little boy stick a bead up his nose this morning. I don’t even have beads in my classroom. Turns out he got it from the girl whose bookbag cubby is next to his. He took it off a keychain she had on her bag.”
Mrs. Stephensen shudders. “I don’t even want to think about how many fingers have touched that bead.”
“Me neither. Made for an eventful morning, though.” I shrug as I take a bite of my salad.
“I bet.”
Before either of us can say anything else, the principal walks in.
“Oh no, he’s got that look on his face like someone did something wrong,” Mrs. Stephensen whispers.
“I wonder who he’s after,” I murmur back.
Then his eyes lock on mine and he starts moving toward me.
Shit.
My heart sinks.
“Maybe it’s just about the bead?” Mrs. Stephensen says hopefully.
“Fingers crossed,” I say under my breath.
“Miss Harris, will you please come with me?” he asks.
“Of course,” I say as I stand.
With shaky hands, I put the lid back on the container of salad. “Is it okay if I bring my lunch with me?” I ask, voice steady.
“That’s fine. This won’t take long,” he says.
Picking up the salad, I follow him, ignoring the stares. As we walk toward his office, my heart races. What could this be about? Surely not a bead in a kid’s nose. I try to come up with something, anything, but nothing pops.
When we enter the office, the secretaries don’t even look my way, making it sink in further how bad this must be.
What do they know that I don’t?
When we enter Principal Marshall’s office, he shuts the door behind us.
“Please have a seat,” he says.
I do as he asks and set the salad next to the chair.
“Is everything okay, Principal Marshall?” I ask as I fold my hands in my lap.
He sighs as he sits down. “Unfortunately no, Miss Harris. We had an alarming call come in about you earlier this morning.”
“I’m sorry, what?” I ask, feeling completely off guard.
He nods. “We had a concerning call regarding your extracurricular after-school hours. Specifically those you spend time with.” I open my mouth to protest, but he raises his hand.
“I know I can’t dictate who you spend time with outside of work hours, but once this is brought to our door and disrupts operating procedures, I’ll be forced to step in.
I only called you in here, Miss Harris, to give you a warning.
You upset someone, and they are looking to cause problems for you professionally. ”
“My ex,” I mutter without thinking about it.
It’s Blaine. There’s no one else who it could be.
Only he would try to do something like this.
He’s so conceited that he must think if he ruins my job that I’ll be forced to crawl back to him since he is making money at the law firm.
He is so sure he will pass the bar and be hired on as a lawyer, which is ridiculous.
“Excuse me?” Principal Marshall says, reminding me that I’m not alone.
I clear my throat. “I have an ex that isn’t happy that our relationship ended.
I just started seeing someone who would never do anything to jeopardize us or the kids, and I have a feeling my ex found out and isn’t happy.
I’m sorry. I would say it won’t happen again, but we both know that we can’t control the actions of others. ”
His eyes narrow. “As a friend, and not as your boss, Delaney, that doesn’t sound like you are in a safe situation.”
“My best friend thinks he’s stalking me,” I blurt out.
His body tenses. “Then I have to insist that you take this to the authorities, whatever proof you have. Try to get a protective order against him. While it might not stop him from harassing you, you’ll at least have a paper trail if, God forbid, you need it.”
Closing my eyes, I let his words settle inside of me. I don’t want to take those steps, but Blaine is forcing my hand. He has overstepped in such a major way that I don’t see any other option. Not anymore at least.
The gentle boy I met when I was young has turned into someone I don’t even recognize, and I hate it. I hate that he’s souring what we had and flushing all the good memories down the drain.
“You’re right,” I murmur softly.
Blaine’s forced my hand for the last time, and I won’t put up with his shit. Not anymore.
Tank
When I took Hanks back to Smoke, he sang like a fucking canary. He told us everything we needed to know. Some of the major players, when the next game was, and most importantly, who was in charge.
A couple of fucking lawyers.
Some greedy fucks who thought they needed to line their pockets even more.
Lucky for us, though, Hanks told us all about the exclusive game they were holding tonight. In the middle of the damn week.
Bear, Crow, Jagger, and I park a block of the way from the warehouse.
“Why did I have to drive the cage again?” Jagger whines when he jumps out of the van.
“Because you haven’t been around as long as we have,” Bear says.
Jagger scoffs. “It’s kind of hard to beat you two when you came with the pres,” he says, referring to Bear and me.
“Not wrong, kid. Not wrong,” Crow murmurs before turning toward me. “Are you sure we don’t need any more people?”
I raise a brow. “If we can’t take down six players and two leaders, we have an issue.”
“What about the dealer and whoever else they have helping?” Crow presses.
Bear shakes his head. “Smoke doesn’t care about them, but if history is anything to go by on these types of things, they will stick around and sing.”
I nod. “They are usually doing it because they don’t have an option. It will all work out. Everyone strapped? Got zip ties? Smoke wants these dickheads alive.”
The guys nod.
“All right. Then let’s go rain on some motherfucker’s parade.” I smirk.
We slip into the shadows and make our way to the warehouse. As we approach, I can’t help but shake my head.
These fucking idiots have no security and have hundred-thousand-dollar cars sitting in a warehouse parking lot, completely left unattended while homeless people are camped on the corner. I’m not saying that the homeless would do something, but if they wanted to, they could have a fucking payday.
We line up on either side of the door, Crow and I on one side and Bear and Jagger on the other.
At Bear’s nod, I open the door quietly, and they slip inside.
Crow and I are quick on their heels, and I shut the door behind us quietly.
We follow the sounds of voices, and when the room opens up, Bear looks back at me and nods.
I watch as he, Jagger, and Crow break away. We each take a corner of the room. It takes Crow a minute to get to the furthest corner, but when he does, he crows, signaling it’s time.
“Is there a fucking bird in here?” one of the guys at the poker table asks.
“Could be. This place is abandoned after all,” someone else says.
“There’s a broken window up there.” Another one points toward the wall high up.
“Gentlemen, it’s fine. Trust me,” a guy says cockily.
“Are you sure about that?” I ask, gun drawn as we step out of the shadows.
Like usual, some of the guys jump up and try to rush toward an exit but are met with a barrel pointed right toward them.
“Not today, motherfucker,” Bear grumbles.
“Too slow,” Jagger quips.
“Put them up,” Crow demands.
“Are you guys cops?” one man whines.
“Do they look like fucking cops?” another snaps.
“Just get on the goddamn ground,” I hiss.
Most of them do as they are told, but one asshole tries to run, right toward me. I step to the right and hold out my arm, clotheslining him in the throat.
He gasps as he falls to the ground.
“Oh, that’s going to leave a mark,” Jagger jokes.
Putting my gun in the holster, I lean down and turn the guy over on his stomach. Reaching into my back pocket, I pull out a zip tie and cuff his wrists.
When I roll him over, I recognize him but can’t place how I know him.
“What’s your name?” I demand.
“Blaine,” he gasps.
Blaine.
It takes me a minute to piece it together, and when I do, I laugh.
“Well, isn’t this a turn of events?” I muse.
“You’re that thug she’s dating. Does she know that you’re here?” he chokes out.
“What my girl knows is none of your business.”
Reaching down, I haul him up and see that the guys have secured everyone else.
“Is this everyone?” I ask Blaine.
“I’m not telling you shit,” he spits.
Raising my hand, I tap him on the throat. Tap, I don’t hit him like I want, just lightly touch, but by his reaction, you would think I fatally wounded him.
“Are you sure this dude’s capable of being a leader?” Bear asks as he marches two guys toward me.
“I don’t think he could lead his way out of a wet paper bag, but Hanks said one of the guys’ names was Blaine.” I shrug.
We circle the guys up, and Jagger runs to bring the van over to us so we can load them up. Thirty minutes later, we pull up to the pig farm in Jay and find Smoke, Gunner, and Mac all waiting, arms crossed.
“How did it go?” Smoke asks as we shut off the bikes.
“Successful,” I tell him.
As Jagger comes to a stop, we walk to his door.
“Anyone talk?” Mac asks.
Jagger shakes his head. “Nothing important at least. One guy was trying to figure out how he was going to explain this to his parents while another was mumbling about how this looks for his career.
“Idiots,” Smoke says, shaking his head.
We walk around to the back of the van and open the door.
“Please, let us go. I didn’t do anything wrong,” one of the businessmen pleads.
“You were at an illegal poker game in my territory. That alone is wrong,” Smoke tells him.
“File out,” Gunner rasps.
“This one comes with me,” I say as I grab onto Blaine.
Smoke raises his eyebrows. “Then let’s start with him.”
The entire time we walk him to the building, he tries to put up a fight, to break out of my hold, but he fails. Once inside, I push him into the chair, and Smoke ties his legs to it.
“There. Now start talking. Why did you start this, and what made you think you could get away with doing an operation like this in my territory?” Smoke demands.
Blaine’s eyes bug out. “Start this? I didn’t start anything. I’m only doing this to help pay down my student loans faster.”
As he spills his guts, I can’t help but chuckle.
No wonder Delaney had such a problem getting off. This dude’s a fucking little bitch and has no sense of the word loyalty. It’s a good thing she has me now. I’ll do whatever she wants whenever she asks, and she will never have to worry about me throwing her under the bus, and that’s a goddamn fact.