Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
MILLIE
Bennet calls out my name as soon as I walk into the club. The Gilded Room isn’t as glittery and sexy, fully lit, as it is at night. It completely loses all of the sex appeal the moment the house lights are turned up. Which is sad because it is a really cool space.
As I move toward Bennet, I notice that Anna is there, along with the rest of the girls, and four bikers I recognize. Their gazes slide right through me, as if they don’t even register that they know who I am.
I know they do, though.
There is no way those men don’t sit around and gossip. I know they do. I used to hear them. They are worse than women. So I’m under no illusion that they don’t know exactly who I am and what I do here.
But if they want to feign ignorance, so be it.
Bennet begins introductions, and I stay in the back, listening to everything. The girls are introduced to the Vicious Reapers while Anna watches with what I can only describe as an expression of pure terror on her face.
I feel the need to comfort her, but I stay where I am, my gaze straight ahead as the men discuss who, what, and when they’ll be taking over.
They start tonight. They’ll have one man at every entrance, two men on the floor where the customers are, another man in the hallway where the private rooms are located, and then another near the side of the stage.
That’s six men.
“Six seems excessive,” I state.
Everyone completely stops speaking, and I feel all eyes on me. As someone who dances on stage, I should probably not be bothered by the way they’re all watching me. By the way they’re staring at me questioningly, waiting for me to continue.
Clearing my throat, I shift from one foot to the other before I continue. “Six just seems like a lot of security. Is there a reason for it?”
Viking is directly across from me, and he snorts at my question. “For the moment, yes, there’s a reason.”
His gaze is focused on mine. It doesn’t move, and I can tell it’s because of me. The extra security is for me. I wince under his scrutiny. I hate that. I don’t want him or any of them to hate me because I brought this shit on myself.
Nodding once, I take a step backward, turn from them, and walk away and toward the dressing room. I don’t need to feel any guiltier. I know this is my fault. And I know that Dante is going to come here and start shit.
If anyone gets hurt, it’ll be my fault, too.
All of it.
This is exactly what I didn’t want. And yet it’s exactly why I’m here at the same time. At my station, I tug my chair out and sink down. Flicking my gaze up to the mirror, I take in my reflection for a moment. I don’t like the way I look.
I’m not wearing any makeup. I appear pale, and there are dark circles beneath my eyes.
I felt exhilarated and worn out at the same time, in the best ways possible, before I arrived.
I don’t feel that way anymore. I’m not sure what sensations are rushing through me, but they’re not of love and light. More like guilt and anxiousness.
There is a light knock on the door, and I look over my shoulder to see Viking walk into the room. He stops a few feet away but doesn’t speak immediately. Standing, I lean my ass against the vanity, gripping the edges at my hips as I stare at him.
He laughs softly, shaking his head a couple of times. “You got into some shit, babe. Big shit.”
I open my mouth, then close it again, pressing my lips together tightly. I’m not sure how to proceed. I feel beyond guilty. So beyond guilty. I’ve caused a whole host of issues. I should never have come back here.
“Yes, you should have, but you should have come straight to the clubhouse and told us all we were dealing with a Vegas mob boss who was going to be showing up on our front porch.”
Pressing my lips together, I look down at my feet. I don’t know how the hell I’m going to make this better. I feel bad. Beyond bad. I should have just stayed away. Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I lift my gaze to meet his, but then something causes my spine to straighten.
“What do you mean, mob boss?” I ask.
Viking’s eyes widen. “You didn’t know?” he asks. “What the fuck did you think he was?”
I don’t know what he was. How could I have known? But then again, how could I have not known? I was living in denial, and it’s come to bite me in the ass.
“He was flashy. I just figured he was a guy who lived the Vegas lifestyle.”
Viking snorts. “Yeah, like a mobster, babe.”
“Shit,” I hiss. “I didn’t even think about it. I mean, it makes sense after I saw everything he did, but I guess I didn’t let it register.”
“And now he’s here, somewhere.”
Yes, indeed. Now he’s here… somewhere. Looking for me. Looking to kill me. I’ve seen too much, and I can’t take that back. Dante will never stop looking for me. He will never stop trying to find me.
I’ve wounded his pride by running.
“He’ll start a war over this,” I whisper.
There is a long moment of silence. I start to say something, but I have nothing to say. Sliding my gaze down to my feet, I stare at them and wait for Viking to say something else. Thankfully, he puts me out of my misery.
“No, he won’t, babe,” he says. “We won’t let him.”
And that is that.
They won’t let him.
I wish I could believe it all, that they could protect me from anything and everything coming my way.
I mean, that’s why I came here, after all.
But I’m not sure any longer. Having someone watching me, protecting me twenty-four seven…
The guilt begins to consume me instantly.
I should have dealt with all of this myself.
I shouldn’t have come here.
I shouldn’t have put this on the Reapers or on Axton. I should have done it myself, always myself. Because at the end of the day, I’m the only person who should be helping myself. I should not be relying on other people.
PIGGY
After sending Bullet the text with my schedule, I turn from the whiteboard and come face-to-face with one of the other officers. I know his name, but I don’t work with him often. We tend to be on opposite shifts—him choosing daylight and me preferring the late nights.
“Sorry about that. Didn’t know you were there,” I mutter.
He doesn’t move out of the way, though. He stays with his feet planted, standing directly in front of me as if to keep me from walking out of the room.
I don’t know him well enough to have any kind of beef with him, so I’m confused as fuck as to why he’s blocking my path out of the precinct's mail room.
“Garcia?” I ask. “Help you?”
He crosses his arms over his chest, tipping his chin down slightly as he looks down his nose at me. I arch a brow, curious as to why the fuck he’s behaving this way and toward me. I can’t even remember ever having a conversation with him in my fucking life.
“Yeah,” he grinds out. “You want to tell me why the fuck you’re hanging around with the Vicious Reapers?”
My eyes widen, and I almost laugh. Almost. Everyone knows I’m a Reaper, including the chief. I have a good gig here. I don’t mix Reapers business with law enforcement. I might look the other way, but so do a hundred other departments.
“You serious with me right now?” I ask.
He jerks his chin. “I’m dead fucking serious, Colter.”
“It’s above your pay grade,” I simply announce as I begin to move past him.
He doesn’t allow me. When he blocks me again, I can feel the irritation building inside me. I’m no longer curious or find this comical at all whatsoever. In fact, I am beginning to wonder what the fuck his problem is.
“Fuck that,” he hisses. “I don’t want trash like you as my brother. You’re nothing but a fucking criminal.”
“What is your fucking problem?” I growl. “I don’t even fucking know you.”
He takes a step toward me, his chest puffed up, his shoulders squared, and his eyes narrowed. He really thinks he’s something standing here in front of me. And maybe he is. I wouldn’t know.
Because… I do not know him.
And I couldn’t give a fuck less about him. But he obviously gives a fuck about me, and that makes him somewhat dangerous.
“I hate people who break the law, Colter. Fucking despise them. And here you go, trying to be a cop and do that? Unacceptable. You’re a piece of shit, and I won’t have you at my back. I won’t be at yours, either.”
“Never asked you to. Don’t recall even having talked to you before this, so I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”
He leans forward, narrowing his eyes on me, but I hold my body loose. I’m ready for a fight. If there needs to be a fight, I’m here for it and prepped. But my muscles are loose, my eyes aware and alert.
“I’ll figure you out, and I’ll take you down.”
Finally, he steps to the side to allow me to pass him. I almost roll my eyes because the theatrics of it all are almost too much for me to contain myself. I enjoy the small-town police department because I can do my thing without anyone bothering me.
I’ve been working for Thunder Rock since I was twenty-five years old. Seventeen years, and nobody has once questioned my integrity or my work. I’m well known and liked. I do my job. And do my fucking job well, too. I’ve never even had a write-up, let alone a complaint.
My record is exemplary because work is work and the club is the club.
This motherfucker is trying to make it seem like I’m a dirty cop, and that shit pisses me off.
Not only because I’m definitely not, but if something goes wrong and my integrity truly comes into question, so does every single case I’ve been involved with.
It all gets called into question, and that is unacceptable.
Leaving the precinct, I take my phone out of my pocket and find Ivy’s name. I need some information on this Garcia, and if anyone can dig something up for me, it’s him. If I do it, there’s a chance someone will catch on, and I don’t want to have any red flags at all hanging over my head.