Chapter 37
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
PIGGY
Garcia’s old lady lifts her chin, looking down her nose at me, her lips pressed together in a thin line as she waits for whatever is coming her way.
She’s breathing heavily, in through her nose and out her mouth in an attempt to keep herself calm.
It’s only halfway working. I can see the sweat breaking out across her forehead.
“I don’t really want anything with you, per se,” I begin.
Her brows snap together, but she keeps her lips pressed tightly as she begins to breathe a little lighter. She should. I don’t want to hurt her. I don’t even fucking know who she is, not really. Plus, I have a feeling Garcia has done enough damage.
“You wanna talk to me about your man?”
Her eyes narrow, then she releases her lips but doesn’t speak. She lifts her head slightly higher, looking down her nose at me as she contemplates what’s going to happen next. Or maybe she’s trying to figure out what I want her to say.
“Who?” she asks.
Smart.
“Manny Garcia,” I state.
Her eyes darken instantly, even though I’m without a doubt sure that she knew exactly who I was talking about when I said your man. I watch her, not staring, just waiting patiently for her to continue. I don’t want to intimidate her, but I need her to realize that this is serious.
“What did Manny do now?” she demands, almost grinding her words out.
“I saw what he did to you, and I’m sorry you had to survive that,” I say.
It’s true. I am sorry that happened to her. No woman should suffer abuse at the hands of the man who supposedly loves her. But just as I suspected, she doesn’t accept my sorrows for her abuse.
“Don’t apologize. I didn’t just survive. I now thrive,” she says.
Dipping my chin once, I look down at her, but I don’t move because my head feels like someone is taking a sledgehammer to it. I need to get to the point before I puke or pass out. I’m not sure which one is coming, but one is coming soon, so I’d better get on with the show.
“Why does he want me dead?” I ask.
Her eyes widen, but just slightly. If I weren’t paying close attention to her, I wouldn’t have seen it. She clears her throat and shifts slightly in her seat. She knows why. She’s just not sure she wants to tell me.
“Dead?” she asks, then continues. “He doesn’t want you dead. He wants you to suffer.”
“Why?” I demand.
She shrugs a shoulder. “Manny wants everyone to suffer in some way. Me physically when he couldn’t control me. It’s who he is.”
“Why me?”
There is a moment of silence. She arches a brow, then shakes her head once before continuing. “Your club killed his entire family. You should know that. Do you think there needs to be a different reason?”
“He sought me out personally? Because this feels extremely personal, and while I was there, I wasn’t the only one, and I’m not the president or anything. Yet I’m the only one being targeted. So it’s not obvious.”
She lets out a heavy sigh, an exhale that takes a little too long. I’m about to just walk out of here. She doesn’t fucking know why I’m a target. But then she speaks, and when she does, I see it a bit clearer. Although I still don’t understand it.
“He was in the police academy. Vowed to stay out of club life. Although it was pointless because he was a bigger dick than any one of them, so he should have just fucking joined. He started researching the club after his family was killed. His club and yours equally. When he realized you were a cop, he made it his mission to join and take you down.”
Interesting, but still, it’s not like I made it easy to be found. Sure, the chief knows who and what I am. He doesn’t give a flying fuck. But it’s not like I plastered my name all over club shit that would make it obvious.
“Manny found a thumb drive at his dad’s house. It had a detailed report on every single original charter member of the Vicious Reapers, down to the clubwhores. Pictures, backgrounds, everything. That’s how he knew it was you and who you were.”
I open my mouth to ask her why the fuck his dad had that shit, but then I remember the Bloodhound MC wanted to infiltrate. They wanted to take us down, wanted to ruin us. We were just better at it.
Ended it like you’d kill a snake.
We cut the fucking head off, then we burned the body.
Nobody kidnaps our women and gets away with that shit unscathed. And we didn’t want a war, so a massacre it was. And I know I should feel bad, because there were innocents inside, but they didn’t feel bad about kidnapping an innocent and detailing all the things they were going to do to her.
“So I was targeted just based on the fact that I’m a cop and it was easy to watch me?”
“Basically.” She shrugs a shoulder.
I bite my inner cheek with my teeth and roll the skin around, then push off the wall with my foot. Taking a step forward, I lean down slightly. I’m not close enough to even touch her. I still don’t want to intimidate her, but I need her to truly realize, to see that I am serious.
“I appreciate your help on this,” I begin.
“You didn’t give me much of a fucking choice,” she snaps.
Chuckling, I grin as I continue to look down at her. “I guess I didn’t. But we needed a way to get you here, and I have a feeling you weren’t going to hop in the pickup truck willingly.”
“Damn straight.”
“Now we have a couple ways to play this. You can stay here, in this room, but not tied to this chair, until this shit is handled with Garcia. Nobody will bother you. You’ll be fed and watered, but you won’t be free while we handle him.”
“Or?”
It’s my turn to press my lips into a thin line. The or isn’t something I really want to do to her. I don’t think it’s nice, and it puts her at risk with her abuser.
“When was the last time you saw him, truthfully?”
With zero hesitation, she opens her mouth and tells me. “Five months and three days ago.”
“I don’t like the or because it uses you as bait, and I don’t think you should be in that position. You’ve been through enough.”
Her lips curve up into a smile. It’s fucking devious, and I’m pretty sure I should be scared of her right about now.
“Will he ever be able to get to me again by the time you’re done with him?”
Her question makes me smile this time. “Never.”
“Use me.”
MILLIE
I’m tossing and turning. I’m not sure what I’m feeling, but what I know I’m not doing is sleeping. I’m so tired, overly tired, and maybe that’s my issue. I want to sleep. I could cry. I want to sleep so badly, but I can’t.
I’m worried about Axton. I’m worried about Bennet being an asshole at work. I’m worried about everything and nothing all at once. Hell, I don’t know what I’m worried about. I feel irrationally anxious. Maybe I just need to physically see Axton, to touch him and kiss him and know that he’s okay.
Rolling onto my back, I kick my covers off my body and stare at the ceiling. I’m not sure what to do. If I leave the bedroom, Scar is in the living room. I don’t really know him, and I don’t want to walk around while he’s on the couch trying to sleep.
Turning my head, I realize that I’m alone in bed, which means Heidi is somewhere else. I know for a fact she fell asleep next to me, but I don’t remember her getting up, which means I slept for at least long enough for that to happen.
We had a talk before we went to sleep, and since we’re going to be here for a couple of years, we both decided it would be best to rent a two-bedroom, two-bathroom apartment. It would give us each our space and also the safety of living together.
I’m going to talk to the building's management to see if they have one they can move us into. It would make things a hell of a lot easier than finding a whole new building. That’s what I’m doing when it opens today and I’m up and around.
Sitting up, I reach for my phone, resting my back against the headboard. It’s only seven in the morning. It’s going to be another long freaking night if I don’t sleep. I’m going to be zombified soon.
I don’t have any missed calls or notifications on my phone, something that annoys me. Axton hasn’t even attempted to get ahold of me. He promised he’d come here. As I think about his promise, I can’t help but wonder if something went wrong.
Maybe he’s had a setback or something. Should I call Lainey and ask if he’s okay? Shaking my head, I decide against that. I don’t want to be that girl… and by that girl, I mean my eighteen-year-old, insecure self.
I can’t even begin to remember the number of times I hunted Axton down back then. I’m sure it crossed the line into stalking. If I were to really think about it, but I’m not going to do that.
It’s too embarrassing.
So I sit in bed, leaning against the headboard, though I can’t look at my phone for another minute.
I place it on the nightstand next to me and turn on my small bedroom television.
This apartment came partially furnished, and televisions were part of the package, which I was good with because I really didn’t want to mess with trying to hang TVs on the walls.
I push the Netflix button on the remote control and wait for it to get into the program, then search for something to watch.
I decide on something I’ve seen a million times in hopes that it will put me to sleep, since I won’t be interested in seeing what happens, considering I could probably quote the whole show line by line—Gilmore Girls.
Settling back in bed, I rest my head against the pillow and roll onto my side, pulling the blankets up to my chin in hopes it will feel a bit cocoon-like. I don’t know when I fall asleep, but I do eventually.
A noise startles me what feels like seconds later. I sit straight up and press my hand to my chest as my breathing comes out in quick pants. My eyes scan the room, and I know they’re wild, but I’m trying to figure out what woke me up when the bedroom door opens.
Then I let out an exhale of relief at the sight of the person standing in the doorway.