Indebted: 'Til Death Do Us Part (Teal & Trent Book 3)

by Inger Iversen

  “Where’d you find this stuff?” Trent eyed the label again.

  “Got a deal going with the Mexicans.” He shrugged. “First Sons never dealt with them ‘cause they weren’t white, I deal with them cause they get me the good brown.” He pointed to the bottle. “Take it with you when we are done.” Pushing from the bar, Ace motioned to Trent.

  Trent followed, hoping to get this done and over with. Gator followed behind them, shutting the door when they all entered a large conference room. A table sat in the middle of the room, with four chairs on either side, and one at the head. Ace led Trent to a chair and pointed. When Trent was seated, he set the bottle down and joined him.

  Propping his feet on the roughhewed table, Ace motioned around the room. “Meet the new council.” He pointed to each individual man as he introduced him. “You know Mutt, once one of the Elite, now the MC’s master at arms. His job is easy enough.”

  “Don’t piss him off.” A bald man from the back hollered, causing a ripple of laughter to sound throughout the room. Trent eyed the man who’d made the comment, standing guard at the door.

  Ace lifted his middle finger. “That dumb mother fucker interrupting the meeting is one of the MC’s new enforcers, Butch.” Trent nodded at the man. “And you know the VP, Gator.” He gestured to the corner of the table.

  Gator bared his sharpened teeth. “Sup, bitch?” He slammed a meaty fist over his patch.

  “Then you got Blu, the secretary.” He pointed to a larger fucker with a blue Mohawk and hundreds of pieces of metal piercing his face. Wide holes filled with rubber stoppers were inserted in his earlobes. “Don’t talk much, but will pull a trigger without a second thought.”

  He pointed to a pock-marked man. “Treasurer.” Pointing next, he introduced an older gentleman he called Chaplain, then continued until he’d finished with the table.

  The room quieted and all eyes fell on Trent. What the fuck did they want him to say? Congrats in the new club?

  Trent leaned forward and opened his whiskey bottle. “Blackwater Renegades. Don't wait for death, hunt the fucker down.” He lifted the bottle, and amazingly, the ones with cups lifted them, repeating what Trent said; their words a rough shout over the southern rock blasting from the speakers on the wall. Trent took a nice swig of his liquor then turned to Ace. “You call in that last favor today?”

  Ace eyed him over his boots propped up on the table. He shook his head in the negative.

  “What am I here for then?” He glanced around, and again, the room had settled and all eyes were on him.

  Ace leaned forward, his boots slammed against the wooden floor and he stood. “It’s induction night, Nomad.” He motioned for one of his men to come forward.

  Trent turned and watched as a man stepped forward with a leather cut folded over his arm. “Nomad?” Trent questioned. “What the fuck is a Nomad?”

  “It’s the only way in where you don’t have to best me with nothing but a knife and a prayer,” Mutt said. The gleam in his eyes said he wanted nothing more than to take Trent one on one.

  Ace pulled a cigarette from behind his ear. “Now, normally, it takes a whole hell of a lot more to get a fucking cut.” Rolling the cancer stick between his fingers he added, “The status of Nomad is rare, and there are two kinds.” Flipping the lighter in his hand he lit the cigarette and took a long puff. “Either you are on loan from another chapter, or it’s like you, Marine. On call.”

  Gator snorted. “Had to kill me four men in some battle royale type shit, before I got my cut.” His jovial smile belied his put-out tone.

  Trent pushed back in his seat when the leather was laid in front of him. The shit smelled brand fucking new. Two patches were laced on the top right corner, Marine and Nomad were stitched into the patches displaying his name and status. Trent took another deep swig and rubbed the back of his neck. What the actual fuck was happening? Were they asking him to patch into this shit?

  “This ain’t a choice.” Ace’s words pulled Trent from staring at the cut. “You know more than most, and if we are going to let you head out of here alive,” he pointed to the cut, “you leave in that.”

  “The fuck?” He wasn’t interested in joining the MC. Hell, he wasn’t interested in knowing the men from the MC. “What happened to owing a favor? Is this shit it?”

  “Out.” Ace’s voice boomed over the music. All the men, except Mutt, Gator, and Blu stayed seated. Ace scrubbed a hand down his face and let out a sigh. “You don’t have to join up and ride, but you have to join. More importantly, you have to wear that cut the day I come calling for that favor. Club rules. No civilians in club business.” He snatched Trent’s bottle up and poured himself a drink. “And that includes you, Marine. So, you patch in today, or I have to put a bullet in your skull.”

  Trent rolled his eyes. “Damn sick and tired of hearing that threat.”

  “Damn sick and tired of making it,” Ace added.

  Trent couldn’t help the grin tugging at his lips. “When the fuck do you plan on coming?” Picking up the cut, he placed it in his lap. Blu picked up a pen and started scribbling shit on a notepad.

  Ace shrugged. “Whenever the fuck I please.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “You can patch in formally today and be more than a fucking nomad, Marine.”

  Trent knew not many were offered this opportunity. Still, he never once considered himself a criminal. He couldn’t wrap his head around joining up with an MC for organized crime. And then there was Shayla. Last thing he wanted was to bring her any closer to drugs and Blackwater than her demons managed to drag her.

  Ace tapped his pointer finger on his temple. “I see you thinking, Marine. Let me ask you this. What else you got going for you?” Ace had made the same assumption about Trent that the rest of the world had made. They thought him poor white trash, and while his past had been laced with that shit, Trent had climbed his way from the gutter and made something for himself. He may not have had family, but he did have his best friend, Logan, and in some twisted, fucked-up way, he had Shayla too.

  Trent shook his head and pushed the cut back to Ace. “Nah, I’ll heed the call when you come knocking and then and only then will I wear this, this life on the regular ain’t for me.” Trent wanted no evidence of his association with this crew. “We good?” He kept his eyes on Ace the tension grew, but Trent sensed the moment Ace accepted his terms.

  Tipping his glass to Trent, he gave a nod. “See ya soon, Marine.”

  Trent grabbed his bottle and headed to the door.

  “Hey!” Ace called just as Trent made it to the door. He turned and waited. “That Shayla chick . . .” Trent tensed. “Bitch is gonna get you killed one day. Do yourself a favor and drop her while you can.”

  Part II

  Six Years Later - Teal & Trent

  Chapter 7

  March 2016

  “Blackwater Sheriff Henry Olgove reveals to NDC27 affiliate of CGFA-TV, the body found Sunday night in East Blackwater, approximately five miles from the notorious motorcycle club hangout, is believed to be that of missing teen, Amber Tonwlyn-Havers, daughter of Congressman Alexander Tonwlyn-Havers. Amber was last seen Saturday by witnesses, around 2:00 AM, leaving a house party in downtown City Central, alone. She was thought to have gone to a party in the neighboring city of Treville.

  “Congressman Havers has not been available for comment, though his publicist asks that the family’s privacy be respected in their time of mourning. In other news, tensions rise in Blackwater as one of the founders of the Black Lives Matter organization plans a protest of the death of African American teen, Anthony Smiddle. The standoff between the KKK and Black Lives Matter protesters has police stretched thin.”

  Teal turned off the television, then placed the remote control down. Leaning back, she closed her eyes and took in a few deep, calming breaths. There were things friends and family admitted to you about becoming a mother. There were the things you wanted to hear, the things you enjoy
ed hearing and then there was the truth. It was a rare thing for a parent to speak of the debilitating fear and uncertainty that came with becoming a parent. The indecision and then the apprehension in every decision made, small or large.

  While Trent’s upbringing made Teal cringe, she also knew that her own past hadn’t been much better. Yes, Teal had grown up in a seemingly good home, and her family’s money had afforded her a great education and kept her fed and somewhat content, there was more to growing up in a good home than money and a full stomach. Irrational as it may seem, Teal wanted to shelter Emma, but would she truly need it? Would she need an overbearing mother? Hell, would Teal become her mother?

  What the fuck was going on in the world today? Things were recently changed in Teal’s life, with a husband and a child to care for, and her ever-growing fear of raising Emma in a world full of dangers she couldn’t possibly protect her from was starting to weigh on her. Was this what motherhood would continually be like? Undying love and fierce protection, followed by the crippling fear of threats of the unknown?

  Placing a hand over her stomach, Teal sighed. Trent mentioned wanting another child, while her inner voice told her now was not the time. Hell, she’d just be honest and admit she wasn’t sure she wanted another child—ever. She tilted her head to the side and watched as Emma shifted on Trent’s chest. Teal often found herself counting ten little pink fingers and toes, kissing cherub soft baby cheeks and caressing her daughter’s blonde curls.

  Her daughter was the exact opposite of her physically, but Teal never once worried about their differences. She sensed Emma’s trust and love in her and Teal was dead set on never letting her down. As Teal slightly moved and stretched her stiff legs on Trent’s lap she shifted her husband and daughter just a bit.

  Trent’s eyes popped open, his hand tightening over Emma’s back. “What’s going on?” His groggy voice woke Emma from her sleep. She released a sleepy coo that melted Teal’s heart.

  Teal moved her legs from Trent’s lap, leaned forward and gently pulled Emma from Trent’s arms. “I thought you were just resting your eyes?” she admonished softly, giving him a sweet smile. Teal softly patted Emma’s butt, helping to calm her back to sleep. The sweet baby lay her head on Teal’s chest and began to snore once again.

  Trent stretched his arm over his head and yawned. “I was, baby.” He sat up and glanced over to her. Teal noticed how he still favored his right arm for most things. While his physical therapy had ended, Trent still had trouble controlling his arm and certain movements.

  “Oh, okay. I guess your snoring was just to trick Emma to sleep?”

  Trent sat up and placed a hand on sleeping Emma’s back. His large hand made the little girl seem even tinier by comparison. Born a preemie, Emma had constantly fought to maintain a normal weight, and now at nine months and fourteen pounds, she was just barely fitting into the six to nine-month clothes gifted to her from Teal and Trent’s friends.

  Teal placed a kiss over Emma’s curling blonde tresses, and caressed Trent’s hand. Her life in Kentucky had proven easy-going at first, but recently, she’d felt restless and anxious. The South proved to be just as tense as she’d expected, with the Black Lives Matter and KKK acting out for various reasons. Teal wasn’t sure she felt safe, and this was after she’d just stopped waking up from nightmares where Jake had made good on his threat to rape her.

  Trent leaned in and kissed Teal’s cheek. “And my plan worked.” He pulled his hand away and stood. “Want me to take her to bed?”

  Teal squeezed Emma once again, as she didn’t want to let the warm bundle of baby go. “Sure, make sure all those stuffed animals are out of the crib before you place her in there.” She handed Emma to Trent and went into the kitchen to pull a bottle of water from the fridge.

  It was a Friday night, and once again, Trent had fallen asleep on the couch while Emma napped in his lap, and Teal had flipped through the channels, hoping to find something to keep her mind off their issues with Harper and Markus.

  Teal had learned that it was best to talk to Trent about stressful things at certain times, like directly after she’d sucked every bit of come out of his quivering body; however, after a long stressful day, now was not that time. Teal treaded to her office and retrieved her laptop from the dresser.

  Back in the living room, she sat down and opened her emails to see a few from Jan Erik, past co-workers, and Summer. The header in the email from Summer caught her attention. Teal’s brow furrowed in confusion as she read aloud, “Help wanted.” Clicking the email, Teal read its contents. As she did, her heart flittered in her chest and her excitement grew. In her eagerness, Teal let out a light squeal. “A job opening?”

  “Hey, where are Emma’s fluffy blue socks?” Trent broke Teal’s concentration.

  She glanced up to see Trent with a handful of tiny socks in his palm, and a flustered expression on his face. Pointing to the bedroom, she said, “They are in the—”

  “What were you just saying? Something about a job opening?” he interrupted her as he motioned to her laptop. “What job opening and where? More importantly, for who?”

  Teal gauged his reaction carefully. While she had hoped the night would end without any heavy discussions, the second Trent dropped the socks on the couch and sat beside her, she knew there would be no putting it off.

  Teal turned the laptop to face Trent. “I’m not sure yet. I just received the email from Summer.”

  Trent pulled the laptop from her hands and placed it on his lap. “The chick that tried to help Shayla?” he asked, skimming over the email. “Why is she offering you a job at something called Safe Haven?” He gripped the laptop, his flustered expression changing into one Teal had become very familiar with. His veiled anger didn’t intimidate her though, it irritated her.

  Teal rolled her eyes at the question. “How the hell am I supposed to know? You are the one reading the email.”

  She and Trent had agreed she would spend the first year at home with Emma. And at the time, when everything was new, and Trent was home with her, recovering, she’d meant it. However, now, it was a completely different story. Teal felt cut off from the world, and it seemed her job had gone from an administrative assistant with a degree, to Emma’s mom. Not that Teal minded being a mother—in her mind, she thought she’d done well. It was that Teal never expected to have her identity stolen from her.

  Perhaps, if Teal had had three toddlers running around the house, she wouldn’t feel the same, but one infant who barely made a peep? She found herself sitting on the back porch with more time on her hands than she’d expected. And to top it off, Teal’s friends were all in Vermont, and were career-oriented women who despite being married, and settled, hadn't had children yet. Then there was Katie, who was on her third book tour and in talks with her agent about film rights to her novel.

  Teal had never felt so alone, yet surrounded by a loving family. To make matters worse, even though they’d won the civil suit against Jake, lawyers had stated it would take time to actually get the money he owed—if they ever got a cent. So, Trent still worked massive amounts of overtime to add back some of the money to his savings that the medical and lawyer bills had created.

  Teal hoped once the money from Jake came in, Trent would stop working himself to death. But that wasn’t all. Katie and Logan were miles away, with a growing business and baby girls, and Violet, her new local friend, was now the CEO of a company, so gone were the days in which she came over for hours on end. Like a fool, Teal had fancied herself a true Southern Belle, sipping mint juleps, and gossiping while watching Emma play.

  Why in the hell had she thought she’d be okay with this kind of life?

  “What’s a transitional house, and what would you do if you worked there?” he asked.

  Teal sat up. What the hell had Summer sent her? “In Summer’s line of work, there are places called transitional homes for single moms who are in need of basic necessities they can’t provide for themselves, like food, clot
hing, and in some cases, infant care.” She moved the laptop into her view. “It’s probably where Shayla would have been sent had she been green-lighted into the program.”

  Teal stopped speaking as she looked at the email. Reading further, she saw Summer wasn’t offering her a job, but a letter of recommendation if she chose to apply as an advocate for battered women at a new chapter of Safe Haven. The pay wasn’t as great as her last job, and the hours weren’t much better, but Summer believed Teal would be perfect for the job.

  Trent sat back and threw his right arm over the back of the chair. “So, what would the job entail?” He’d cleared his face of all expression, and waited for her to speak.

  Teal sensed she was walking into a trap and groaned inwardly. “It depends.” Saying nothing else, she eyed him and waited. She didn’t want to play this game, and from the look of it, Trent was too tired to play for long.

  He eyed her a moment longer, then shrugged. “I guess it doesn’t matter, since you’re not taking it.” His tone was light, but his face was granite hard and resolute, his eyes glinting the way they did when Trent had had enough of whatever bullshit was ailing him. He headed out of the office and into the bedroom.

  Normally, Teal would have flipped her shit and pushed back at his comment, but this time, she couldn’t. Months back, they’d come together and made a decision for their family. He had a point, it’s just . . . she didn’t agree with him anymore.

  Teal closed the laptop and stood. She had two choices. She could head into the bedroom and tell Trent she wanted to at least talk about the possibility of going back to work, or she could let it ride—for now. And since it wasn’t fair to come at him when he was tired after working a twelve-hour day, Teal decided to shelve it for a later time.

  Teal leaned into the counter and sighed. This wasn’t who she was. She didn’t shelve important conversations, and she sure as hell didn’t back down when Trent made demands. Was it the curse of the wedding ring? She glanced at the beautiful vintage ring on her finger. The sparkling diamond had seemingly sucked all the fight out of her, changing her from Teal, to Trent’s obedient wife.