Rough & Rich (Notorious Devils Book 6)

by Hayley Faiman

  “Do I look like I give one single fuck?”

  Colleen stands before she calls out, “I’ll stay with her.”

  “I’ll stay, too,” Ivy murmurs.

  “We’ll all stay. The kids are all together, everything is handled for today,” Mary-Anne mutters.

  “You don’t go alone,” MadDog states.

  “I could give a rat’s ass who goes with me. But I’m driving down to Frisco today, now,” I announce before I turn and walk away.

  I storm down to my car, firing up my engine before I speed off. I don’t bother even attempting to go inside of my house. I don’t want to see the aftermath of how Imogen ended up the way she did. I have one focus, and one focus only, Graham Bayard bleeding and fucking dead.

  We pull up to Graham’s fancy as fuck place in Parker Heights, an all brick mansion on a corner. No doubt, costing more than ninety percent of the population could earn in their lifetime. The outside looks simple, albeit large. I have no doubt that the inside is impeccable and ostentatious. No way would it have the homey feel of Imogen’s Frisco house.

  “What’s the plan?” Camo asks as I swing my leg over my bike.

  “No plan. I’m killing the fuck,” I shrug as I walk toward the front door.

  “Soar, you need to get your shit under control,” MadDog barks.

  “I’m perfectly calm,” I lie.

  Ringing Graham’s doorbell, I wait in full view of his peephole so that he can see me and shit himself. The door opens slowly, and I’m surprised to see that he actually answers and not some staff member of his. He looks me up and down and grins.

  “Sloane, how good of you to show. Make sure you wave to my cameras,” he grins.

  I growl. I should have known and anticipated that he would have his place monitored. I should have known because my father had the same shit at his place.

  “You hurt my wife?” I ask bluntly.

  “Why would I hurt Imogen? We’re to be married,” he says. I hear Camo snort behind me.

  “Imogen wouldn’t marry you if I were dead, man, and you fucking know it,” I say.

  “I couldn’t even see her give this pencil dick the time of day,” Camo says. If I turned to look at him, he’d probably be shrugging.

  “Tell your minions to shut the fuck up, Sloane,” Graham growls.

  “You do have a pencil dick,” I chuckle. “I remember seeing that shit in the locker room in high school. We all felt sorry for you.”

  I watch as his face turns red. He’s so fucking easy to rile up. “Shut the fuck up,” he shouts.

  “You’re clear, brother,” MadDog rumbles.

  That’s when I know that he’s called Oliver, the tech guy who works for the Russian’s, to cut and manipulate Graham’s cameras.

  I lift my chin and force my way inside of his house, my brothers at my back.

  “You can’t come in here,” he cries just as I hear the door close.

  “Did you hurt Imogen?” I ask again as I take a knife out of its holster at my belt.

  “The fucking tease played me and went back to you,” he shouts. “I had her and her family’s money in the palm of my hand. I was going to strip her of everything, leave her a pile of worthless nothing, and you fucked it all up, once again,” he says as he actually stomps his foot like the child he is. “Her dad was still going to give it to me, then all of a sudden he decided not to. Such bullshit.”

  I can feel the air in the room crackle as my brothers hear Graham’s plans, of stealing Genny’s money and leaving her broken and alone, come to light.

  Texas, MadDog, Camo, and Torch slowly circle around him, but they don’t get too close; just close enough that if he tries to run, like the pussy he is, they’ll be able to stop him.

  “You’re done, Bayard,” I announce, pointing my knife in his direction.

  “What are you going to do, shank me? Something you picked up in prison?” he laughs. I can tell that he’s scared.

  I shake my head as I close the distance between us. To his credit, he stands firm, even though his eyes are darting from side to side.

  “I did kill a man in prison, how’d you know?” I ask.

  I reach out and drag the tip of my knife from the hollow of his throat to his belly button. He sucks in a breath, and I almost laugh at what a pussy he really is.

  “Stop bullshitting me, Sloane. What do you want?” he asks, his voice trembling. “How much?”

  “Your life,” I shrug. “You think you can hit my woman, then beat her half to death, and that I’ll just let that go?”

  “Like you give a fuck about her. She told me how much you fucked around on her. You don’t really give a shit,” he states.

  I shrug, though inside I fucking hate how much he knows about my relationship with Imogen. Wrapping my hand around his shoulder I shove my knife into his belly. The fuck has really let himself get soft over the years. Then I lean forward and whisper into his ear.

  “I love Genny. I’ve loved her since she was fifteen years old. She’s mine. She’s always been mine, and she’ll always be mine,” I murmur. “You touched what was mine, and now you fucking pay,” I state as I twist the knife in his soft gut. I yank it up his body until it hits the bone of his ribcage.

  “Think he’s dead, brother,” Torch murmurs.

  I take a step back, noticing all the blood mixed with some guts, and shrug. “He didn’t suffer enough.”

  “Nope,” MadDog states.

  “We can’t set this place on fire. How are we going to get rid of him, and all the blood, in broad daylight?” Camo asks.

  “Anybody touch anything?” I ask, looking around. They all shake their heads.

  “I have contacts in SFPD. You all head out the back. I’ll call my guy,” I state.

  “How the fuck do you have contacts here?” Camo asks.

  “You aren’t a bad society boy, with rich as fuck parents, without having some cops and judges in your back pocket, brother. My father didn’t want his name in the papers because I’d shamed him. I also assume he had about a million skeletons in his own closet to cover up throughout the years. I’ll meet you guys back at the clubhouse,” I call out as I wipe down the handle of my knife and throw it next to Graham’s bloody body.

  Everybody moves out of the house except MadDog.

  “I’ll stay with you until you’re cleared for sure,” he states. I nod as I take my phone out of my pocket and start placing phone calls.

  I moan, my body feeling heavy and my face pulsing with pain. I try to move my lips, but they don’t go anywhere. All I hear are other people’s voices in the room. I can’t open my eyes, and I feel my heart starting to race in panic. I lift my hand and press it to my face, but it all feels funny—swollen, puffy, and not right at all.

  “Genny—oh, honey, don’t do that,” Colleen’s voice whispers through the room.

  I feel her grab my hand and I turn my head toward her, but I still can’t open my eyes.

  “Wha Ha-en?” I gurgle, unable to form actual words.

  “You were hurt pretty badly, honey. You’re in the hospital,” she coos gently. I can feel her hand on my hair. “We called your parents and they’re on their way, so is Soar’s mom,” she informs me. She doesn’t say anything about Sloane.

  “Swoan?” I ask, but it hurts my face, my throat—my everything.

  “He’ll be here as soon as he can, babe,” she whispers.

  “Oh, my god,” I hear my mom’s voice.

  She sounds completely horrified. I have a feeling it looks just as bad as it feels, and I don’t know if I ever want to look in the mirror again.

  “Did that piece of shit do this to you?” my father asks.

  I try to relax and think about the night. I hear Colleen in the background talking to my parents, and I’m grateful for that as I try to retrace the evening. I remember talking to Ivy about going to Mary-Anne’s. I took brownies out of the oven and someone rang the bell. I thought it was Ivy. It was Graham. Then it all comes flooding back to
me. Graham kicking and punching me until everything went black.

  “I’ll kill Sloane,” my father roars. I choke out a laugh.

  “Gwam,” I mumble.

  “What?” my father asks.

  I can feel him come closer. I can smell his expensive cologne, and I wish it were comforting, but it isn’t.

  “No, Swoan. Gwam,” I mumble again.

  “Are you trying to tell me that Graham did this to you?” I nod but my father scoffs. “Graham is refined, Imogen. He would never do this.”

  “Sloane is a complete barbarian. Graham adores you,” my mother chimes in.

  I hear Sloane’s harsh bark of laughter fill the room. I can do nothing but listen to my parents and Sloane talk.

  “Graham already marked her once. I have never touched Imogen in anger before, not once,” he growls. “Besides, I was in Los Angeles visiting a friend.”

  “What was her name?” my mother huffs.

  “Not a woman. Not that it’s your fucking business. You two can fucking leave,” Sloane says.

  I imagine he’s waving his hand around in annoyance. He’s always had a short temper where my parents are concerned. Not that I can blame him; they drive me insane as well.

  “I will not leave my daughter, not in this sub-par hospital,” my father snorts.

  “Then you can sit on the couch with your goddamn mouths closed,” Sloane barks.

  I hear my father sputter, but I’m getting tired and fading quickly.

  “Go back to sleep, sunshine,” Sloane’s voice mutters.

  I feel his lips on the back of my hand as he presses a kiss there, and then I do as he requests. Again, his blanket of safety wraps around me and I feel at peace. I go back to sleep

  “Will there be any permanent damage? I can call my plastic surgeon,” I hear my mother’s voice say.

  “I think we’ll know more once the swelling goes down, ma’am,” a stranger’s voice mutters. Then I feel him come closer.

  “Can you try and open your eyes for me today, Mrs. Huntington?” he asks. I feel his warm touch on my ribs, my stomach, and then my face.

  I try to open my eyes, relaxing my face as much as I can, and am surprised when I see light and then a shadow.

  “There you go, let’s see those pretty brown eyes of yours,” he murmurs. “Can you make anything out, or are you just seeing shadows at this point?”

  “Shaowes,” I rasp, unable to pronounce certain letters still.

  “Good, good. Hopefully as your swelling decreases you’ll get your sharper vision back. Now, you’ve been monitored for twenty-four hours and everything is looking really good. I want to keep you here another twenty-four hours, maybe forty-eight, depending on how quickly your swelling reduces. Other than the pain in your face, how are you feeling?”

  “O-aay,” I state.

  “You’re on some pretty powerful pain meds and you’ve got a catheter in. But I’m going to have the nurse take that out and get you up and moving today. The more you move around, the sooner you’ll be able to get out of here,” he says soothingly. I nod. “Now, do I need to call the police so you can make a report? Your husband was here and he says that this wasn’t him. I have to ask these things,” he murmurs.

  “Wa-n’t him,” I say with a shake of my head.

  “Okay,” he says, sounding disappointed. Then I hear his footsteps and the door closes behind him.

  The room is bathed in silence for a few minutes, and I let out a heavy sigh, knowing my mother has something to say.

  “I know Sloane wouldn’t hurt you,” she finally whispers. I don’t speak, waiting for her to continue. “I know he’s liked his women, maybe done some drugs, and, with his little group, some questionable things. He’s not like his father, not like that. And even Sloane’s father never left Kalli as battered as you are.”

  I make a noise in the back of my throat, wishing she would stop. She doesn’t.

  “It’s no secret that I’ve never liked the boy. Not because of him, but because of the way you allowed him to treat you. You’re better than that; you’re better than a Huntington. You were always so starry eyed over him, and he was a handsome boy. He still is a very handsome man, so I understand. I just didn’t want you to fall in love with looks and settle,” she takes a deep breath. “I didn’t want you to settle like me. Settle for a pretty man who wouldn’t treat you well, because women love a pretty man with money.”

  Tears fill my eyes and fall down my face at what my mother is implying about her relationship with my father. My mother and I don’t get along, we never have, but she’s also never really been involved in my life. She’s always been more concerned with herself, or maybe she was just lost inside of her own head, dealing with infidelity exactly like I always have.

  “But you ended up exactly like me, didn’t you?” she asks. I can’t help but agree with her. “I’m sorry I didn’t teach you what kind of man you should have looked for.”

  I start to open my mouth, but then I hear the door open.

  “I’m just going to head out now,” my mother says.

  I turn my head, opening my eyes as widely as I can, and I see a shadow standing in the doorway. It’s a shadow I recognize. It’s a shadow that I would know no matter where I was.

  It’s Sloane.

  “Fucking hell, sunshine,” he rasps. I hear him dragging a chair across the room to the side of the bed. He gathers my hand in his and he lets out a breath. “Sorry I wasn’t here. I had to get some shit handled. Not leaving you now, though.”

  “Go home tomorrow,” I say slowly, trying to enunciate every word.

  “Yeah? Can’t wait. How are you feeling?” he asks.

  I shrug.

  “You never have to worry about Graham again, sunshine,” he whispers.

  I wait for him to continue, and I’m surprised when he does. “I took care of him. He’ll never hurt you again, baby,” he whispers. “I want you out of here. I want you better and home with me.”

  “Home,” I say, my lips trembling.

  “Yeah, sunshine. I want to help you get better.”

  I shake my head, thinking of my mother’s words, wondering if staying with him is where I should be. Maybe I should just leave California, leave the country, go far away and start over. Find a man who isn’t sexy and attractive; find a man who loves and adores me and sees no other woman in the world but me.

  Then I think about the way Sloane told me he loves me. I think about all the stuff we’ve been through the past few weeks, and I know that I would endure everything all over again to have him. I love him, and time or distance couldn’t make that love dissipate, let alone disappear.

  It’s him for me, and nobody else can compare. I’m willing to let him keep my heart, in the hopes that he won’t break it into a million pieces again. Foolishly, I’m pretty confident right now that he won’t.

  I love this man.

  This beautiful man.

  This rich man.

  This rough man.

  I watch her sleep. Her face isn’t as bad today as it was yesterday. The swelling has receded a bit, but she’s still got a long road to recovery ahead of her. I close my eyes tightly and curse to myself. This was all me. Me and nobody else. If I had better protection over her when I left for LA, then Graham wouldn’t have been able to get to her.

  Fuck, if I hadn’t let her into this life, then she’d probably be married to some straight-laced fucker right now, in a mansion with three kids. Graham wouldn’t have ever been on her radar, and I wouldn’t have pissed him off enough to take his anger out on her. None of this would have happened and she’d probably have a much better life.

  No matter how you look at it, this is all my fault.

  “This isn’t your fault,” a familiar voice says from the doorway. I turn around to see my mother standing there.

  She’s wearing designer, as per usual, her bleached hair styled to perfection and her makeup impeccable. She looks like the society bitch she is, but I’ve always just cal
led her mom.

  “You finally get sober enough to drive over here?” I ask, feeling the heat of my resentment at the woman rise.

  “I knew her parents would be here, and I knew they didn’t want to see me, so I waited,” she shrugs as she takes a few more steps into the room. “Goddammit, that man is a fucking monster,” she gasps, abandoning her perfect language for curse words, which I prefer.

  “Something like that,” I state, not wishing to look over at Genny again. Staring at her will not make her better. It will not make the damage disappear.

  “I hope you took care of him,” my mother states as she walks over to the sofa and slowly sits down.

  “I did,” I say, but lift my brow in surprise that she’d even direct me to do so. My mother hates the club, hates my life, and hasn’t hidden that fact—ever.

  “If you’re going to be in a group like that, I’m glad that it’s good for something,” she huffs.

  “Yeah, well, he’s no longer an issue.”

  “I’m all moved in to my new place, your brother is gone, and now this. Everything’s just falling to pieces, Sloaney,” my mom whispers, using a little nickname she had for me when I was a kid.

  “You upset about dad being gone?” I ask curiously.

  “Hell, no. That man was wretched. I did contact the mothers of his children. There are three,” she says quietly. “I’m meeting with them next week. I know their children are now financially taken care of, but I guess I just wanted to know the women he preferred over me, and maybe get some closure.”

  “That could do more harm than good, mom,” I warn.

  “I know,” she nods. “Kipling has been a mess. Thank you for getting him gone sooner rather than later. He’s taking it all very hard.”

  “I offered to pay for his schooling after this first semester,” I state. She shakes her head.

  “There’s no reason to. I have plenty of money,” she says with a wave of her hand.

  “As long as the business does well.”

  “No, Sloaney, I have plenty of money. My family had money, too, you know. Not as much as your father was worth, but I have more than most of the people in this world, and I’m going to put my boy through Harvard. I also plan on spoiling your children, if you’ll ever have any,” she says.