by A. Lynn
“It was the easiest way to explain to him who you are, for now anyway”—her eyes widen—“until we’re both ready for you to be my old lady. You’re mine, baby, and I have no intention of going anywhere.”
“That’s what I’m counting on,” she says. “For the record, the feelings are mutual. I worry that it’s too soon, though,” she mumbles to herself. “What's the difference between an old lady and a girlfriend?”
“Old ladies are the equivalent to a wife. But when that time comes, you would be my wife, too. And who cares if it’s too soon? It feels right to me… does it feel right to you?”
“You know it does.”
“Then fuck what people say. I want you and I don’t want a preconceived notion—from God knows when—to put you and me on a timeline that isn’t of our making.”
“Fuck them all," she says planting a kiss on my lips that is far too fleeting for my liking.
A smile splits my face as I drag her closer to me and cover her body with mine and take her mouth in a scorching kiss; until my burner chimes.
Gunner: Church at 10:00.
I look to the clock on her nightstand and see that it is only a little after eight.
Noticing the shift in the air has her asking, "Everything okay?"
“I’m not sure. But Gunner just called for Church. I’m sorry, but I have to go. I’ll come by the salon later, okay?”
“Okay honey, that sounds nice.”
“Okay.” I kiss her again and start to dress.
“You want me to make you a cup of coffee before you leave?”
“That's okay, baby. I'll grab some at the clubhouse."
Just then little man runs back in and his face drops.
“What’s wrong, J?”
“You’s weavin’, Cwow?”
“Yeah, little man,” I say as I fluff his hair. “I’m coming back, though.”
“You’s is?”
“Absolutely.”
“How about we walk him out, J?" He nods at Reagan as she gets up and throws on her stretch pants, and follows us out of the bedroom.
Little man shoots down the steps and giggles. “Dat you’s, Cwow? Can I wide?”
I open my mouth to reply, but Reagan’s distracted voice beats me to it. “No way, J. Maybe when you are bigger.”
“Aw, Wea! You’s no fun!”
I smile and turn to thank her for letting me off the hook, but she is not looking at us. She is distressingly looking down the street. “Baby?” No answer. I turn to follow her eyes and I see a large black Yukon Denali with blacked-out windows and custom rims—black edging with a solid white star taking up the whole center.
When they notice that I noticed them, they pull into a driveway only to back out and fly up the street.
“Baby?” Nothing. “Reagan,” I say louder.
“Huh?”
“You okay? Who was that?”
“I don’t know. I think…,” she trails off.
“You think what?”
“It’s not important.” She feigns a smile and kisses my lips. “How did you get the pizza to here on your bike?”
“I ordered it when I was already here. I didn’t know your address.” He shrugs.
“Very sneaky!” I laugh. “I got to get ready for work. See you later?”
“Yeah,” I say and make note to ask about her reaction when we have more time. “I’ll see you soon, little man.” I make a fist and hold it out to him and he just looks at me. I make a fist with his hand and pound it against mine.
Grinning, he says, “See you’s, Cwow.”
Giving her one more kiss, I get on my bike and head to my house for a quick shower and change of clothes.
Gunner smacks the gavel on the table, calling the meeting to order. We just had Church on Thursday—so for Prez to call a meeting was suspect. Some serious shit had to have gone down.
Looking around the table, I notice the same nervous expression on each of my brothers’ faces that is likely on mine.
Gunner takes a deep breath and drags his hand down his face, prompting Bane to say, “What’s up Prez?”
“It’s a shit show, guys. Roen Jones”—the Sheriff—“called on the burner last night to tell me that there were three more people reported missing yesterday.”
“That fucking sucks,” Rhys says. “But what does it have to do with us?”
“The last time anyone saw these girls, they were leaving Fallen. CCTV caught them getting into a large black Yukon."
“Fuck!” I pound my fist on the table and ask, “So, what did Roen say? Are they going to be looking at us?”
“I imagine they’ll be wanting access to our camera feeds for inside and outside the club,” Rhys adds.
“Roen didn’t say fucking much,” Gunner states. “He wanted to let us know that he will be coming by for official business. He did say that he had a Fed call him yesterday talking about a skin trafficking ring that is based out of Chihuahua, Mexico. Einstein, I need you to get me anything and everything you can find on the Guerrero Cartel.”
“You got it, Prez.”
“Do we know if the Rippers are connected to these abductions? It seems pretty fucking coincidental that they show up and people start going missing,” Pop states.
“I’ve been looking for a link between the two, but I haven’t found any inclination that they do. I’ll keep searching, though. I do agree with you, Colt. The timeline is a little too sketchy,” Einstein adds.
“If you want, I will reach out to Tomas? If I know anything, it’s that Stella’s uncle knows everything about an opposing cartel.”
“Couldn’t hurt,” Axle looks to Gun, “We should probably reach out to Matteo, also.”
“I’ll give him a call when we are done here,” Trigger—Gunner’s old man—offers.
“Okay, Einstein, the floor is yours. Tell us what you have found on the Rippers so far.”
“There isn’t a lot to find. It was as if one day they weren’t there and the next they were. It’s almost suspicious how little there was to find.”
Impatiently, Gunner asks, “What have you found?”
“They came from El Paso, like right on the border, until about six months ago when they bought The Madison. You know, that big B&B in Growler?” He looks around the table. "I didn't really see anything law-related here, but the charges that The Rippers have, as a whole, looks pretty tame for an MC that considers itself one percenters." He shakes his head, rolling his eyes. “Trafficking, petty possession, assault, domestic abuse, and grand theft are the only charges they have convictions for."
“Doesn’t seem to fit the bill of a one percenter,” I say.
“Well, there have been other allegations of murder, attempted murder, witness intimidation, gun-running, and arson… but there seems to always be something that would get them off."
“I wonder who they have in their pocket?” I muse.
“Okay, we all have our assignments. Let’s get to it.” He slaps the gavel on the table, concluding Church. As I get up Gunner says, “Crow, I need your list for the protection run.”
“Yeah, I was thinking that Rhys and I will alternate with Mase and Smooth. With Deck, Jagger, Bob, Unit, Capone, Ghost, Pyro, Rider, Easy and Cash to alternate, too."
“Okay, sounds good,” Gun nods and walks to the door.
“Prez?”
“Yeah?” He turns.
“Will you put me and Dec on different teams?”
“You got it.”
With Church concluded, I head out to the shop to do some work on the custom gas tank for Ashley Nunez, before heading out to see my girl.
My girl… it blows my mind how serious this got in such a short amount of time.
My girl… all mine.
Chapter 6
Reagan
I am finishing up putting the rest of the red hair color on Nyla’s platinum blond hair when she says, “Girl, you’re in a good mood this morning. What’s got you cheesing so hard?”
I catch her
eyes in the mirror and feign a glare. “Excuse you, ma’am, I am always in a good mood!”
“True, but your cheeks are going to be sore tomorrow if you keep smiling like that,” Lynna agrees with a shrug.
“Ganging up on me now? I thought we were better than that, Lynna.”
“Just calling it how I see it.”
“Sorry to disappoint, ladies, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I call BS on that,” comes from Nyla. I give them both the finger and laugh. They just keep looking at me expectantly.
“Fine, whatever. I may have started seeing someone recently.”
“And there it is,” Nyla says triumphantly. “Who’s the lucky guy?”
"It's new and I am not ready to spill yet, so you Sherlocks are going to have to wait."
“Boo!” They say in unison, making me laugh.
I grab my bowls and brushes and make my way back to the sink to wash them up. When I am finished there I glance at my phone to check the time and see that I have about half an hour before I rinse Nyla’s color, so I take the free time to talk to Stella about Saturday. Seeing her and Marley sitting on the couch, I knock on the door frame.
Both women look at me with a smile. “Reagan, just who I was wanting to talk to,” Stella says, waving me in.
“Is everything okay?”
“Of course,” she says. “How’s Ryan doing?”
“She’s pissed at me right now, but she’ll get over it.”
Marley looks puzzled. “What does she have to be mad at you about?”
“She refused to go to rehab, so I had to threaten her. Either she goes to rehab or she can pack her shit and get out of my house.”
“I can imagine that didn’t go over well.”
“Well, I can deal with her being salty, but I won’t stand by and watch her kill herself. I love her too much for that.”
“Sometimes tough love is the only answer,” Stella says. “I just hope that for the sake of your son she pulls her head out of her ass. Sooner than later.”
“Me, too.” I clear my throat and continue, “That’s actually what I was coming in to talk to you about.”
“Yeah?” Stella cocks her head, “What can I do to help?”
“I’m flying out on Friday morning to take her to Emma B. Rehabilitation in Albuquerque, and I was wondering if it would be possible to take Saturday off and be with Jordan? I’m not sure how he is going to react to her being gone for so long and I just want to be with him.”
“I don’t see why that should be a problem. Will you get in touch with your clients for that day and let them know that either myself or another stylist will be handling your appointments for that day?”
“Absolutely.” I stand to walk out and remember, “Did you want to talk to me about something, Stella?”
“I did. Can you, Crow, and Jordan join us for dinner tonight?”
“Oh. Of course. Should I bring anything?”
“Just Jordan and your appetites. Will he be okay with hamburgers and hot dogs? Colt wants to grill out tonight."
“Oh yeah, he loves a barbecue.”
“Good! I can’t wait to meet him.”
“Stella?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you okay with Crow and I seeing each other?”
“Initially, no. Most of the guys in the MC are content to ‘hit and quit’ every woman they come across. That’s why we were in such a bind when we hired you. A few of the brothers slept with more than a few of my employees. When the brothers didn’t want anything to do with them—in any aspect—they flipped out and quit on us.”
“Is that all he wants from me?”
“I don’t think so. Nothing is ever guaranteed in this world, but, Reagan, I know my son. He wouldn’t be putting forth the effort that he has to have you.”
“I don’t want him to break my heart.”
“Does he have your heart?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “Probably from the first night we met. There has been this super strong pull between us. I don’t want to say it was love at first sight, because that shit is cheesy as hell, but when our gazes met, I knew I had to see it through. That I wanted to spend whatever time I could with him.”
"Have faith and patience. I think he feels the same way, and I can assure you that shit like that doesn’t come around often.”
“Okay, thanks, Stella,” I say, feeling a little more secure than I did coming in here.
A couple of hours later, I finished up with Nyla’s color and informed my clients that I would not be available the following Saturday. I had three colors scheduled that were fine with Stella taking over their service and all of the cuts were fine being seen by others, too. It wasn't hard to hand them off, seeing that I don't have many clients, yet, because I have only been here for a little more than a month.
After letting Stella know that I took care of Saturday, I went to take my break. Once I’m out the door and on the way to Perks, I call Sasha to see how J is doing.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Sasha. How is J doing?”
“He’s napping,” she sighs. “I took him to see Ryan and things didn’t go well.”
“What happened?”
“Honestly, I have no idea. He was so excited to see her, but she wouldn’t have it. He climbed up on the bed to give her hugs and she might as well have pushed him off the bed. I swear to God, I have never seen her like that before. Ever.”
“What do you mean, she might as well had pushed him? Did she push him or didn’t she? Tell me what happened.” Fucking Ryan. I’m going to jerk a knot in her throat when I get off work.
“He went up to the bed and reached for her hand, but she jerked it back. He must have thought that she was making room for him or something because he started to pull himself up by the railing. His little knee was on the bed and her hand shot out like she was trying to halt him. Reagan, I don't know if she startled him or made contact with his body, but he went tumbling backward," she breaks off with a sob.
“Oh my God! Is he okay? Why didn't you call me? I would have come up there," I am rapid-firing questions at her because I am spinning out. I am so pissed right now, not at Sasha, but that doesn’t stop her from being the recipient, though.
“I was able to grab him by his arm before he hit the floor. But only just. Reagan, there is such a large bruise on his arm… I am so sorry! So sorry.”
She is so torn up with herself that I have to check myself. “It’s not your fault, Sasha. I have seen her be straight mean to him for a little while, now, but never anything physical. I get in her face every time, but apparently, it doesn’t do any good. I’m not sure who she is anymore. I was worried when you said you may go and see her but I didn’t want to be the asshole and forbid it. She’s his mother, you know, but after this, I'm going to have to insist that you don't take him there again."
“You don’t have to worry about that. I love her, but I love him more. I won’t do that to him again. If I had known that she was being mean previously, I wouldn’t have taken him in the first place,” she snaps.
“I’m sorry, I should have told you… It was stupid to think that she would act differently in front of you.”
“We both made mistakes, but Ryan is the one at fault here. Not us,” she implores.
“I know, but that doesn’t absolve the guilt I’m feeling right now,” I pause. “Okay, well, give him kisses for me when he wakes up and I will see you in a couple of hours."
“I will. See you soon.”
“Bye,” I say and cut the call.
I lean against the wall of the salon to collect myself. I wipe the tears from my cheeks, deciding that I need to go get my boy. With resolve, I turn around and head right back inside and head back to the office.
“Hey, Stella?”
“Yeah?” She turns to me and frowns. “Have you been crying? What’s wrong?”
More tears cascade down my face as I sit on the couch and drop my head into my hands.
<
br /> She comes to sit with me on the couch and puts her hand on my back. “Reagan, what is it?” She’s pleading with me now.
“Sasha took Jordan to visit Ryan in the hospital. She said that when he reached the bed he started to climb up holding the railing." She gasps. "Said when his little knees touched the mattress she threw her hand out like she was trying to halt him," I sob.
“Dios mio,” she whispers.
"She doesn't know if J got startled or if she pushed him, but he tumbled off the bed. She barely made it to him in time but managed to get a hold of his arm. She said it's bruised so bad…" the tears keep coming. I can't stop them.
“Who the hell does she think she is? What fucking right does she have to hurt that baby? Fucking junkie!” She’s yelling now. “What do we do now?”
For one fleeting second I have the thought to jump to Ryan’s defense, but fuck her. “I am going to go there and... I don’t know what yet, but that stupid fucking bitch hurt my baby and that shit isn’t okay.”
“Okay, go ahead and go, and I will see you at my house later.”
“Thank you,” more tears fall as she hugs tight. “I’ll see you soon.”
I stop at my station to grab my stuff and head out the front door, and the second I turn towards the parking lot, it’s like a bucket of cold water is thrown in my face. There stands Crow kissing Cleo. She has her arms wrapped tight around his neck with his hands on her ass.
Hello insult, meet fucking injury.
“What the fuck?” I drop my hands to my sides and my keys hit the ground.
He pulls his mouth back from Cleo’s and looks at me over her head. He must have forgotten that I was here because the look on his face is comically stunned. With wide eyes, he whispers, "Baby."
“Yeah, baby, bring that mouth back. I’m not done yet.” Cleo coos.
“Yeah, baby, don’t quit on my account.” I sneer before bending to pick up my keys. I continue walking to my car, not giving him any more of my time. I should have known better. I feel so fucking stupid.
“Get the fuck off me, Cleo,” he snaps and he pushes her away and grabs my wrist. “Reagan, baby? Wait, please. I can explain.”