Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
LAINEY
My boxes are packed. I’m only bringing three with me.
The rest are labeled with the marker my brother bought for me to donate to charity.
I hope they can help someone else set up their own home.
I am keeping cherished mementos so that when I’m all alone in my new home, I can look back and remember the happiest times of my life.
My doorbell rings, and I know it’s time for me to go. Today is my wedding day. I’ll be spending the rest of the morning getting ready for the ceremony and the reception. Getting ready for my future.
For my new life.
And I’ll be doing so with the underlying sadness that I don’t think will ever go away. I have a feeling I’ll be sad for the rest of my life. My brother, my sister-in-law, my friends… and Gunnar.
Everything will change.
I know that the contract I signed, the demand and compromise to be able to stay in contact with my family, was only to appease me in the moment. I know that those things will change. If not immediately, then eventually.
I’m not going to be part of this world any longer. My social circle will change, and with distance, there is just no way to maintain the relationships that I have here. The bell rings again, and I move toward the door, reaching for the handle.
Before I open it, I look over my shoulder and take in the place again. The boxes stacked, the emptiness. My life is all wrapped up and consolidated into three boxes and one overnight bag.
“Lainey, are you there?” a familiar voice calls out.
Letting out a heavy sigh, I unlock the door and gently tug it open. Millie is standing directly in front of me. I expect to see her smiling, but she’s not. Instead, her gaze searches mine, and I can see the concern etched on her face.
I open my mouth to ask her if everything is okay, but she beats me to it. “What is wrong?” she demands.
I could tell her the truth, but I’m not going to. Because lies or truth, it doesn’t matter what I give her. Neither of us can change anything. Even if Posey says there’s an out with the contract, I am not the person who will take it. I’ve made a promise, and I’m going to stick with it.
Even if it’s at the expense of my happiness.
Though, to be fair, Gunnar has never and will never make me any kind of promise, so it’s not like I have any other options anyway. If I got out of the marriage and stayed here, he’d probably just continue to fuck me in secret until he got tired of me.
And as sad as that feels when I think about it, I know that it’s the truth. He won’t claim me. He won’t marry me. He’s made it clear that he’ll do neither. So this is my only option. This is my future.
This is now my life. I’d better get used to it.
“Nothing,” I state with a smile.
Millie narrows her eyes at me. She doesn’t believe me in the slightest. Not in the fucking slightest, and I don’t blame her.
Honestly, I wouldn’t believe me either. Pressing my lips together, I roll them a few times, and when she opens her mouth to ask me another question, I speak first so I don’t have to lie anymore.
“Can you take me to the bakery one last time? I mean, not really the absolute last time in my life I’ll see it or anything, but I think I need to today.”
I couldn’t help myself. One more lie for the day. I’ll try to be truthful until my vows, but for this, I need to lie. I can’t tell her that I’ll probably never come back again. That this is likely going to be my last time seeing the bakery.
Paul is not going to let me run around and do whatever I want, any way I want.
I can already tell that he has plans, and they do not include me being wild and free.
No matter what he signed, that’s just not going to happen.
And Millie knows it just as much as I do, even if none of us says anything out loud.
“Posey is in the car, so is Dakota, but I know we can swing by the bakery before we head out to do hair and nails.”
Reaching down, I pick up my bag and slip out of the door, closing it behind me. Millie doesn’t make a move to walk toward the car, though. Instead, she tilts her head to the side, her eyes searching mine.
“Are the boxes labeled? I don’t think we’ll be coming back here before you head out for your honeymoon.”
I slide my tongue across my bottom lip, wetting it before I answer her. “They are. I only have three that I’m keeping. The rest are for donation.”
I expect her to turn and head toward the waiting car, but she doesn’t.
Instead, her brows snap together, and she makes a noise in the back of her throat before she speaks.
My heart begins to race at her words. Even though I made this decision, I put the items in the boxes, and she was here helping me a bit last night.
“You really only kept three boxes of things?” she asks. “I know I packed your kitchen and bathroom; most of those things weren’t really something to bring with you, but seriously, only three boxes?”
“I don’t need anything else,” I whisper. “Paul probably has everything taken care of.”
She narrows her eyes and then dips her chin. Thankfully, she doesn’t say anything else. I don’t think I want to talk about it anymore anyway. I’m ready to just get this show on the road and get it over with.
I can’t believe I’m thinking about my own wedding this way.
Get it over with. Almost like it’s an annoying task I have to get through.
Which, to be fair, it feels that way. It’s been weighing so heavily on my mind day in and day out for weeks.
It’s like a Band-Aid that needs to be ripped off—marriage.
I’m not sure it should feel this way, but then again, not everyone gets married the way I am. Not everyone marries someone they’ve only really met once. And not everyone leaves their entire world behind in an effort to keep the peace and protect their family and friends.
VIKING
Stupid.
That’s what I am.
Stupid.
For whatever fucking reason, Ivy thought it was prudent to send me a text early this morning letting me know what time the wedding was going to take place. And now I’m filled with a panic that I don’t think I’ve ever felt before as I ride straight for the goddamn church.
I don’t get far, at least not immediately. Just over the North Carolina border, I see one of the Front Mob Family’s trucks on the side of the interstate. As much as I want to keep riding, I don’t.
Pulling off onto the side of the road, I frown at the sight of the truck. It’s unmanned. I only know it’s one of theirs because of the insignia on the cab. It’s a black F with a red circle around it. Hard to miss.
Parking my bike, I kill the engine and start to walk around the truck, checking shit out. No driver, no other bikes, not a single fucking soul. Taking my phone out of my pocket, I unlock it before finding the camera app and taking a few pictures.
I can’t text any of my fellow officers. They’re all getting ready for the wedding. No doubt putting on suits and shit. Something I wasn’t looking forward to at all, but I would have done it. For her. Not that it matters anymore, because it truly fucking does not.
Finding the name of someone I know won’t be at the wedding, I touch the call icon. It rings once, twice, three times before he picks up. I don’t know who is supposed to be on this run. I haven’t been in the club and part of these decisions in weeks. It’s time for me to get back to work, apparently.
Maybe this is what I needed to take my mind off Lainey, except when Scar picks up the phone, it doesn’t take my mind off her, not in the goddamn slightest. What it does is piss me off because I’m not there already. I’m here with this abandoned truck instead.
“I’m standing right over the South Carolina border, on the side of the highway next to an abandoned Front Mob Family truck. Who the fuck are we missing?” I demand.
There is a moment of silence, and I wonder if the nomad doesn’t know what the fuck is going on or what, but then he speaks. And what he says confuses the fuck out of me, because this is nothing I would have thought was going on.
“Two prospects and Shocker were on that run. They were supposed to be back before the wedding.”
“Shocker?” I grind out.
“Yeah,” he says before clearing his throat.
“It was decided yesterday that this run had to be made. The family was insistent. Don’t know why or any details, but since the wedding shit was going on, Shocker volunteered and said he’d keep an eye on the newbies, though Flop and Screamer are almost patched-in members, so nobody thought anything about it. ”
“The family guys aren’t here, either. This truck is abandoned. There’s nobody fucking here at all.”
He doesn’t respond. I hear him clear his throat, then there is a rustling sound, almost as if he’s moving outside, and maybe that’s exactly what he’s doing, getting away from curious ears.
“I thought the whole thing was weird when it was brought up yesterday. I tried to tell them that it didn’t sound right, so did Piggy and Lightning, but the family was insistent and wanted it done immediately.”
Walking around the cab of the truck, I climb up on the step so I can try the door. It’s unlocked. Tugging it open, I peer inside. It’s clean, almost too fucking clean. Opening the glove box, my eyes widen when I see a gun.
“There’s a piece in the fucking glove box,” I mutter as I reach for it and tuck it into the back waistband of my jeans. I’m not going to leave that shit just sitting out like that for anyone else to walk up on.
“Anything else in there? iPad, phone, anything?” Scar asks.
He’s right to ask about that. Those things could give us everything we need to know about this situation. But there isn’t anything, not on the seats, and not under them. I tell him that everything is empty as fuck and that I’m going to check the cargo in the back.
“Nothing,” I grind out.
“Maybe the cargo?”
I don’t know what they’re moving for this one, but I’m about to find out. I thought at one point they were only moving drugs, but I think they’ve been doing a hell of a lot more than that. Normally, it’s not my fucking business, but today, it is.
Jumping down from the cab, I walk around the back of the truck and reach for the handle that lifts the rolling door. I hesitate as I think about what could be behind the door. It really could be anything or anyone.
“You think I should look in the back?” I ask Scar even though he’s the one who mentioned it just a few seconds ago. It feels like an invasion, though, and maybe it is, but right now, I’ve got nobody else to fucking talk to about it.
“Put me on FaceTime. Let’s do this shit together.”
I don’t know Scar very well, but I have to admit, it’s nice to have another witness for this moment. I know I’m in the right, but having someone else witness it is important. Just in case someone tries to say I fucked up.
Turning the handle to the roller door, I push it up and then freeze at the sight in front of me.