“My father died last night of a heart attack, that’s my mother’s information. I’ll probably be at her place often as well,” I shrug.
“Okay. Don’t get into any trouble. One toe gets out of line, and I can toss your ass right back in your cell. You can finish out your two-years there faster than you can say Bobs your uncle,” he grunts.
“Yes, sir,” I grind out.
I leave with a stack of paperwork, and what dignity I have left, before rushing to my bike. I don’t typically use my car, unless its late at night, wet, or snowing.
I’m already late for the meeting with the lawyer, but hopefully Kip can fill me in when I get there. Then I have some talking to do with Imogen.
I try not to think about last night. About how haunted and sad her eyes looked when I walked into her house. About how silently she made her way upstairs and stripped naked. She looked resigned, as if her body was all I wanted and she was just going to give it to me.
Granted, it was a draining evening, but I couldn’t fuck her like that. Even all those times she was pissed at me and I talked my way back between her legs, she was always white fucking hot for me.
I don’t want to break her, but maybe I have. She’s been so fucking strong all these years, putting up with me and apparently giving up on her dream of children, something I didn’t even realize she’d wanted that badly. I feel like a fucking asshole.
Once I pull over for gas, I check my phone and am surprised to see that Torch has called me. I shove the gas nozzle into my tank and walk away, calling him back.
“You on your way to the city?” he grunts immediately after the second ring.
“Yeah, just stopped off for gas, then heading to my parents. I need to meet with you guys later today.”
“About what?” he questions.
“Something that happened, need to talk to you all,” I inform.
He grunts an okay, before he continues “Normally, I could give a fuck what a brother does with his woman. That’s their shit, and god knows I have my own fucking shit going on. But I gotta tell you, if you aren’t going to do right by your woman you need to let her go,” he murmurs. I’m frozen to my spot in shock.
“Excuse me?”
“Never really knew your woman. Thought she was always some stuck-up cunt who thought she was better than everyone and spread her bitterness around like fucking confetti. I only let Cleo stay with her because we went together on that run before you went in, and it was better than the clubhouse for her without me around at the time,” he explains.
I wonder what the fuck he’s going to say next. What he’s saying now is not the man I’ve come to know as Torch. “She deserves better than your selfish ass,” he states. I can’t hide the shock on my face, so I’m glad he’s not saying this shit in front of me.
My anger rises before I grind out my next words, “Yeah, but I’m what she’s got.”
“Don’t you think you’ve played with her long enough?” he asks, his voice deep and serious, even and not a bit angry.
“She’s mine.”
“I don’t think you understand the meaning of a woman being yours, brother,” he rumbles.
“Yeah? Why don’t you explain that shit to me then,” I growl.
“You’re almost forty years old. Not something I should have to teach you at this age. I will say, when a woman is yours, no other woman compares. Now, if you’re both into playing with other people, that’s a totally different thing; but she doesn’t want to play, and you’re off doin’ shit behind her back. A woman’s yours, you kill yourself giving her the life she deserves, whatever that looks like. Kids, white picket fenced house, whateverthefuck that looks like, you give to her.”
“So what? I let her go, I divorce her and let another man have my woman?” I ask.
“You still don’t get it, brother,” he sighs. “Time to grow the fuck up, Soar. Grow up or let her go.”
The line goes dead, and I grip my phone, hearing it pop in my hand.
I’ll be damned if I let my woman go. I’m a fuck up, and I’ve fucked up, but never again.
She’s mine. I’ll prove that I’m a man, and that I’m all the man she needs. I’ll fucking make her so goddamn happy that nobody, not one single person will question the love I have for her.
No other man touches her. She wants kids and a white picket fence, I’m going to be the man who gives it to her. Not some other fuck, and especially not some fucking pansy in our parents shitty assed social circle. And definitely not Graham.
The attorney walks out of the living room, leaving us sitting in the receiving room in shock. Sloane McKinley Huntington, II was an asshole when he was alive, but a major fucking dick in death. Kipling is the first to speak after the attorney closes the front door behind him.
“Dad was a piece of shit,” he announces. I gasp and slide my eyes over to Kalli.
She nods before she speaks, “Always was, always will be.”
The house has to be sold within a month. Kalli isn’t going to get half of the estate, a loophole in their pre-nup that was written almost forty years ago. Instead, she’ll get a stipend, monthly allowance from the estate.
The Huntington Estate will not be passed down to Kipling or Sloane. Instead, they’ll only receive what is already in their trusts and not a penny more. Kipling won’t even have access to his until his twenty-fifth birthday.
Sloane II’s money will all stay in the business, and Kalli’s stipend will only flow freely as long as the business does well. If the business fails, she’ll get nothing.
As for the remainder of the estate, Sloane II, and his liquid assets, those will go to his other children, to be divided amongst evenly. Children nobody even knew existed, especially not Kalli.
Granted, there are six of them, so their money won’t be even close to what Kipling and Sloane already have, but that’s beside the point. He had a whole life that nobody knew about, a secret life, and it’s then that I realize just how much Sloane is like his own father, a man he despises.
“How could he? And he knew. It wasn’t like it was a surprise to him, he’s always known,” Kip says.
“Because, darling, he was a Huntington and Huntington’s do what they want, when they want,” Kalli announces before she stands and walks away.
“He’s forcing us to sell the house. Who does that?” Kip asks. I wrap my arm around his shoulders and hold him.
“I’m so sorry, Kippy,” I whisper.
“No wonder Sloane always hated him. I didn’t understand it, not until now. I have siblings, six of them,” he murmurs.
“Do you want to try and find them?”
“Never. It’s not their fault, but no. I never want to know who they are,” he says as he stands. “Sorry, Genny, I gotta go.”
I nod and watch him race out of the house, worried that he’ll get into an accident, but knowing him well enough to know that he needs the space.
“Where is everyone?” Sloane asks. My spine straightens.
Closing my eyes for just a second, I rise before I reopen them and make my way over to him. He’s standing in a pair of jeans that hug his thighs perfectly, a black shirt, his cut, and his heavy black boots. I shiver at the sight of him, his blond hair messy from his helmet. I’ll never not be attracted to my husband. If nothing else, I’ll always physically want him.
From across the room, I explain to him what happened, and I watch as his face goes from shock to anger.
“That piece of shit,” he growls. “Where’s Kip? Is he okay?” he asks. This is one of the reasons that I’ve always loved him, his adoration of his little brother.
“He’s shaken. He took off, needing some space,” I whisper. He nods. “How do you feel?”
“I’m not surprised,” he shrugs. “I walked in on him more than once fucking someone else.”
I suck in a breath in surprise, but he looks as if it’s no big deal. That makes my heart ache. No wonder he never had a problem stepping out on me, his father has always done i
t. I turn away from him, trying to tamp down my emotions, but they come bubbling to the top.
“Imogen,” he whispers as his heat presses against my back.
His arms wrap around me, one around my chest the other around my waist. I feel his lips touch the side of my neck before he speaks.
“How are you doing, baby?” he asks.
“I’m tired,” I admit.
“Sucks my dad was a giant fucking dick, but sunshine, it’s not news to me. I just want to take you out of this city and go back to our lives,” he states, his voice vibrating against my skin. “Start over.”
I close my eyes and inhale deeply, smelling him, his scent another thing that drives me insane about the man. “I don’t think we can start over,” I murmur.
“Not letting you go, sunshine,” he rasps. “I’ll change.”
I spin around in his arms and look up at him in surprise. He looks completely serious, and I wonder if it’s true, if he really will change. I feel stupid for hoping, so damn stupid, but I can’t help myself.
“Is it possible? Or are you just going to hide it better?” I ask. I want the truth. Since he’s been being so honest with me lately, I expect it.
“Imogen.”
“I’m serious, Sloane. I don’t know if you’ve ever loved me, but I can tell you with certainty that I have loved you every day since I was fifteen years old. Don’t promise me anything else that you can’t deliver, please,” I whisper with tears in my eyes.
“I want to try, for you,” he admits. “Let me try to make you happy.”
I bite the corner of my lip and nod. I should run far, far away. He’s promising me changes, but then he turns around and says something hurtful. I’m foolish to hope that this time it’s a real change, but I do. Again. Something inside of me must be just as broken as what’s inside of him, because I weakly allow this shit over and over.
“Why do I always believe you?” I ask.
“Because you’re mine.”
Without another word, he bends down and presses his lips to mine, his tongue seeking entrance inside of my mouth. I open for him. As I always do, and as I always will. My Sloane, my husband, the man I’ve belonged to since I was just a girl.
There is no other man for me. As much as he hurts me, I keep going back for more, hoping, praying, and wishing that it will be the last time.
It’s not lost on me that my relationship with him, the way I continue to go back to him, that it’s nothing short of the definition of insanity. If I lose complete hope in him, and in us—what happens to me then?
“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” he growls against my lips.
“I should check on your mom,” I murmur, my eyes still closed.
“No, baby, you should take your sweet ass to that car, drive home, and fuck your husband.”
“Sloane,” I whisper as my thighs shake.
“Go, now,” he rasps.
I do as he instructs, but once I’ve reached his mother’s front door, I turn around to face him. He looks at me with question.
“This is all real? Why the change, yet again?” I ask, needing to know more.
I can only hope that all of this has come about because he did some serious soul searching, that he realizes what he’s done to me, to us, all of those years. That this is because he’s, somehow, a reformed man.
His only answer is to shrug with eyes focused on mine. Then, when I don’t accept that and simply keep walking to my car, he finally speaks.
“Torch called me, told me what an ass I’d been. Told me to let you go,” he says. I’m surprised at his words. “I can’t let you go, Imogen. You’re the only constant I’ve ever had in my life. I don’t know who I would be without you at my side.”
His admission makes my step falter, because I feel the same way. I don’t know who I am without being Sloane’s Imogen. “The other women?” I ask.
“You’re the only woman who matters to me. Told you I’d stay faithful to you if it’s what you want and, sunshine, I don’t plan on failing,” he says. I can see the sincerity in his eyes, a look I’m not used to from him.
“Okay,” I whisper before I turn and walk toward my car.
It’s probably foolish, and I’ll probably end up in a shattered mess, but it’s Sloane. I want him, and I want us to work. I want his children, and for us to live a happy life—a sober life.
If the club is what he desires, I’m okay with that, as long as I’m at his side and he’s at mine. I wouldn’t have been okay with it five years ago, but now, I fully accept that part of him.
As long as he gives me all of him, then I’ll always continue to give him all of me as well. I have to accept all of him, just as I expect him to accept me and with that comes accepting his faults and learning to forgive the past. I’ll never be able to forget, but hopefully one day I can completely trust and forgive him again.
“Don’t break that sweet girls heart, Sloane,” my mother’s voice rings out from the stairwell.
“Mother,” I warn, turning to face her.
She looks like shit. Normally, she’s perfectly put together, but her hair is a mess, her face is splotchy, and her eyes are puffy from crying.
“I’m serious. Don’t turn her into me. She’s much too gentle of a soul,” she whispers. “Your father had six other children, an entire secret life he hid from us. I’d always known about his dalliances, but never about the children. Don’t leave her feeling the way I do right now. If you can’t give her all you’ve promised, you need to let her go,” she announces before she turns and goes back to her bedroom.
I wonder if that last woman I caught with my father was a mother of one of his children. He doted on her, gave her more than just a stack of cash. Shaking my head, my thoughts drift back to the money laundering he asked me to do, and I wonder if that had anything to do with his other life, too.
Fuck, I have no clue who my old man was. I’m relieved he’s dead. No more schemes, no more lies, and no more pretending. Now, I have to focus on not becoming him—easier said than done.
Walking outside, I straddle my bike and put on my helmet. It’s not lost on me that my mother isn’t the first person, even just today, who has told me to give Imogen what I promised or let her go.
I would let her go if I could, but I can’t.
I should let her go, but something inside of me forces me to hold onto her. Is it true unapologetic love? I don’t know. I know that I haven’t been sober for this long, since I was ten years old. I feel like a completely different person than I did the day I was locked up.
But I also know without a doubt that Genny’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I can’t imagine my life without her. That’s all I know. So if that’s what love means, then yeah, it’s love keeping me from watching her walk away.
I sent a text a few minutes ago to find out where MadDog and the rest of the brothers are staying, he just texted me his address. Turning my bike toward the hotel I send my own message letting them know I’m on my way over.
I need to tell them about the cop pulling me over. I know they can’t do anything about it, but I feel like it was all too suspicious. Like maybe I was targeted. I don’t know if it’s because of me or the club.
When I pull into the hotel’s parking lot, I’m surprised to see a couple cops standing outside of the front doors. I can feel their eyes on me, as though their gaze actually heats my skin, then a hard band clamps around my bicep. As much as I want to jerk out of his hold, I don’t. I lift my chin and am surprised to meet the eyes of the cop that pulled me over.
“You and your buddies plan anything around here, and I will catch you. I’ll take extreme pleasure out of throwing you back in jail. I’ll also love knowing the fact that you’ll be getting ass-raped while I fuck that sweet little wife of yours,” he chuckles.
His buddy clears his throat, but I don’t respond. If I even open my mouth, I know for a fact that I’ll say and do something that will definitely put my ass back in jail just like h
e wants. My face heats and my blood boils as I stomp into the elevator and watch the numbers climb to the floor my brothers are on.
“Who pissed in your cheerios?” MadDog asks before I can even knock on his door.
I storm into the room and look around, noticing that its all the men and no women. MadDog answers my question before I can ask it, and tells me that they’ve all gone to the pool to get a little sunshine. Then he asks me again what the fuck is going on.
“I got pulled over the other night. It was because of my cut. He made me do the whole drug screen and shit. Nothing became of it, but I wanted to bring it up to you anyway, just in case it was something to do with the club. That theory was just blown out of the fucking water,” I grind out as I clench my fists.
Torch lifts his head and his eyes catch mine as he waits for me to continue. When I don’t, he speaks up. “What the fuck happened, brother?” he practically whispers as though he understands the gravity of the situation for me.
“He and a buddy are standing guard just outside the hotel. He made it clear his mission was to lock my ass up again for a parole violation. Then he told me how he was going to fuck my wife.”
Every man in the room growls, and I feel the air start to fill with rage. It’s so thick, it’s practically choking me. A second later, MadDog speaks. His voice is low, yet lethal, and full of authority.
“I know you can’t do anything, brother. You stay low and keep your nose clean. I’m going to make some phone calls and try to get to the bottom of this if I can. You keep your ass out of a cell and let us worry about the rest.”
Giving him a nod, I lift my chin to the rest of my brothers. I tell them that I need to check on Genny and they all give me knowing looks. They all fucking know that I need to check on her not for her own safety but for my own sanity. My nerves are shot, and I’ve never felt so goddamn helpless in my entire life.
Making my way out of the hotel, I decide to go out the back instead of the front, hoping to avoid the dicks in blue and hurry to my bike. Then, I head to Genny.
Shoving thoughts of the cop, jail, and everything else out of my head, I make my way toward Genny’s house. The door is unlocked when I arrive, and I quickly lock it behind me. I can hear her voice floating down the stairs. She’s giving information on my father’s funeral, which will take place in two days. I’m taking Genny right after, and we’re leaving Frisco. I know I promised her until her parent’s summer party, but I can’t wait that long.
Rough & Rich (Notorious Devils Book 6) Page 11