Where Souls Spoil (80 page)

A guilty part of me is looking forward to seeing what this little impromptu meeting is about. I might get some information out of this that will prove useful to my investigation.

“It’s bullshit,” Dad says with a nod, his eyes firmly fixed on Wyatt. “Kids will do that to you—fuck you up.”

I bite back the urge to throw something in his direction. He’s one to talk. If he thinks having me as a kid is hard, then I should let him know he’s no freaking picnic either.

“They’re not fucking kids, man. They’re goddamn adults,” Wyatt says.

Dad just shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. Your kids are your kids for life. Jim’s a fucking hard-ass, sure. But he’s a father. He’s got two sons at each other’s throats over Junior and Princess. Can’t be easy, trying to decide whose needs are more important—Ryan wanting to beat the shit out of Junior to protect Princess, or Ian trying to keep Ruby happy. Personally, I’d side with keeping the woman happy, but ya know…”

Wyatt just grumbles something and turns toward the fireplace, where he places his hands on the mantle and lets his head hang low. Duke’s voice sounds from around the corner from me where I can’t see him. My heart leaps in my chest, and I suppress the feminine squeak that would give away my location if anybody were paying attention to me. Duke must be in the recliner near the fireplace on the other side of the wall I’m hiding behind. I’d peek around to see him if I didn’t think I’d be spotted.

“Yesterday I came home to find Trigger fucking terrorizing Junior,” Wyatt says almost too quietly for me to hear. “Had to move him to Ian’s.”

Dad nods. “Good. Trigger isn’t stupid enough to fuck around at Ian’s house.”

“Told Jim. All he had to say was he thought that was a good move,” Wyatt says.

“He’s slipping,” Duke says loud and clear. All eyes swing to where Duke must be. Jeremy’s are wide and fearful, while Dad’s are solemn. Wyatt’s head is turned in Duke’s direction, but other than that, he hasn’t moved. I don’t know the exact details of what happens when a member challenges the presidency, but it’s a big freaking deal. It’s not just a big deal, but it can completely destroy a man or an entire charter, depending on how it’s handled.

“And who’s going to tell him that?” Dad asks of Duke with a prodding gaze.

“Fuck you, dude. I ain’t telling him shit. Pop’s the only father I got. I say we just ride it out and try to reason with Trigger and Sin.”

“Sin?” Jeremy asks. He unfolds his hands from his lap as he repositions himself on the couch, much more relaxed. A smile plays at his lips, all signs of tension now gone. Dumbass has been around the club his entire life, and he’s never learned Ian’s nickname—as stupid as it may be.

“Ian,” Duke says. Jeremy’s head tips to the side like a confused puppy, and it’s so freaking cute I can’t help the blush that rises on my cheeks and makes me hot under the collar. Seeing him sitting among my dad and Uncle Wyatt in his prospect cut looking so confused and young and like he’s trying so hard to fit in is freaking adorable and sexy in ways I don’t know if I can verbalize. Duke was just as cute once, but then he got a little too old for me, and now that he’s with Nic, I force myself to quash every thought that he’s attractive. Besides, once I nail Jeremy down, Duke’s going to be like my brother-in-law—which brings me to another thought. Duke and Nic’s baby is going to be like my niece.

Well, first things first. I need to get Jeremy to ask me out, and then I can figure the details out later.

Cheyenne Whelan.

“Stop it,” I tell myself quietly. Sometimes I hate myself for being that girl who gets so into a guy that she imagines his last name with her first and strategizes ways to wiggle into his life in a way he’ll never want to let her go. But then I look at Jeremy, and a happy sigh escapes me and I forget what I was thinking about.

“How the hell did he get a nickname like that?” Jeremy asks, but Dad shakes his head.

“You have to ask, you don’t deserve the answer,” Dad says. “And I don’t know if you realize this, but prospects aren’t supposed to ask questions.” His tone is light and he’s almost… smiling? But the message is clear—shut the fuck up.

“But Duke told me—” Jeremy starts up, and Wyatt swings around from his position at the mantle, and his bulking frame strides toward Jeremy on the couch. He shuts up immediately—something he should have done before he opened his mouth that one last time. He’s cute and got a great smile, and I’ll bet a solid heart, but he’s got some learning to do if he doesn’t want to be Ryan’s butt-buddy.

“Shut your fucking mouth, prospect,” Wyatt snaps. His deep baritone strikes me in my soul. I’ve never heard him sound so angry or so serious. His arms shake with fury as he places his hands against the back of the couch on either side of Jeremy’s head and closes in until they’re nose to nose. Jeremy’s perfectly still under Wyatt’s thundering voice and intense physical presence. “My patch reads Vice President. I don’t give a fuck who tells you what unless their patch reads President. Got that? Don’t fucking look at me, don’t fucking breathe on me. Do not talk back to me, and don’t ever let me catch you forgetting your place.”

“Wy,” Dad says in warning. I can barely see him beyond Wyatt’s bull-like frame, but I catch the telltale clink of his now-empty beer bottle on the end table as he stands from his place on the arm of the couch. He doesn’t approach and makes no move to break it up, but he’s at the ready if he needs to be. The brothers don’t usually stop a patched member from banging up a prospect, but this is Butch’s son. Dad won’t ever admit it, but I think he likes Jeremy, which bodes well for our future relationship.

Wyatt huffs heavily into Jeremy’s face before he pushes back and walks back to his place at the mantle.

It’s a long moment before Dad speaks. “First up, we need to find that prick Scavo. Had the balls to approach me on Forsaken land and take my woman. Asshole needs to pay for that shit.”

“Agreed, but finding the Italian is kind of hard when our intel guy is tied up babysitting his half-brother and keeping Trigger from fucking killing him, all the while avoiding Princess,” Duke says with slight humor in his tone. “This is so fucked up.”

“You’re think you’re having trouble with it? Jim’s got his hands full,” Dad says with a nod. “But soap opera shit aside, I want that Italian dead.”

“Bad move letting that shit with your woman cloud your judgment. I still think the Italian can be useful,” Duke says, his voice rising slightly. “Junior trusts him, and I’m starting to trust Junior. Plus, that prick could have hurt Sweets, but he didn’t. It was a fuckin’ scare tactic.”

“Scared my old lady,” Dad says as his voice lowers into a timber.

“Pissed you off—I get that. But he could be of use to us. Junior swears Leo is more interested in finding out the truth than he is in causing real trouble.”

“Still want him dead,” Dad gripes. He’s a hard-ass, sure, but the way he’s so protective of Holly makes my stomach do crazy weird butterflies. For a long time I was pretty much convinced that Grandma and I were going to be the only long-term women in his life—and that’s just sad.

“Okay, let’s say Scavo isn’t of use to us—how do we go about that when we don’t even know where he is? What about Jennings? Can’t find him either,” Duke says.

“He’s close,” Jeremy says quietly. His eyes are fixated on the floor, his brows furrowed, and he seems to be speaking more to himself than the men in the room.

“Heh?” Duke says, his voice showing his confusion. Dad and Wyatt both turn their attention to Jeremy as they wait for him to speak.

“He found the safe house, he knows our routines, and he even found Miss Priss at school. He knows who we are, he knows your kids, and he knows our weaknesses, even if we don’t. Scavo went after Holly and Mindy before you two were together, and he went after Cheyenne when he could have gone after getting Alex and Michael back,” Jeremy mutters as his attention shifts to Dad.

“He can’t get to them. They’re protected,” Duke says adamantly. I know he’s smarter than that—there’s always a way if you’re determined—but he doesn’t want to think about it. Considering that Alex isn’t totally safe reminds him that neither is Nic and their baby. He can’t handle going down that road, and I get it.

“Cheyenne was protected,” Dad says. “And the safe house was invisible for over thirty years, but he fucking found it.”

“Baby Boy’s right,” Wyatt says as he grabs his beer off the mantle and finishes it off. “Scavo is close. We just have to find him.” The men around him nod and murmur their agreement as they all seem to stretch their muscles at the same time and stir in place. They don’t like to sit still for too long.

CHAPTER 6

December

16 months to Mancuso’s downfall

The room falls
silent, except for the faint sound of slurping. Everything else the brothers seem to be able to drink quietly, but not beer. It’s like some kind of big event every time one of them brings a beer bottle to their lips.

The alarm sounds at the front door, startling everybody in the room. They each jump to their feet, draw their guns, and train them on the front hall.  The telltale click clack of high heels grows near as Aunt Ruby flies around the corner. Her eyes are wide, her face is pale, and her hair is a total disaster, as if she’s been pulling at it relentlessly for the past hour. Each of the brothers relax and lower their guns before returning them to the back of their waistbands.

“Sorry, big fucking problem,” Aunt Ruby says. I highly doubt that. But this is Aunt Ruby, and she’s a major badass, so she gets a certain amount of wiggle room that the rest of us don’t.

“Where’s Pres?” Jeremy asks, obviously not in the know.

“Transport mission. He’s got Trigger with him,” Wyatt says. The president’s old lady running into a room and addressing the brothers as though she’s one of them means there’s not just trouble, but big fucking trouble. And this is what being voted in means—it means your problem is the club’s problem, and they won’t think twice about having your back. It’s the closest any woman will ever get to wearing a Forsaken patch.

“What’s up, Ma?” Dad says.

“Is the room secure?” Ruby asks.

Shit. The last thing I need is for them to come peeking around the corner to make sure. Dad may yell and scream, but Aunt Ruby is sure to tan my hide. The only times in my life I’ve ever been spanked have been by that woman.

“Yeah, it better be,” Dad says. Maybe I’m just paranoid, but with that comment, it almost seems like he knows I’m listening.

“Gloria called, and she said Leo Scavo showed up at her house asking questions about me and Mike. He wanted to know what our history is, if there is even is one, and if she knows the real reason he was sent out to California.”

I know enough about Alex’s aunt Gloria to know that this Italian guy showing up at her house is bad news. Gloria is the one who orchestrated Alex’s escape from New York and transport to California. She put her neck on the chopping block to keep Alex safe, and that’s something that Forsaken won’t forget.

“He hurt her?” Dad asks. His brows furrow together, and his expression is grim.

“No, she’s fine. He just wanted a little bit of history. Which, by the way, she gave him. I’m fucking worried because I don’t know how long she has until somebody else starts sniffing around and asking the kinds of questions that could get her killed.”

“It’s fucked up, I know. We’re going to do everything we can to keep her safe,” Wyatt says.

I hate to say it, but the way everything’s going lately, that doesn’t mean a hill of beans to me. Nobody is safe, especially not Gloria.

“How did Scavo react to the history lesson?” Dad asks.

“Like he believed it. Told her on the way out he had some shit to think about,” Ruby says.

“Okay, enough of this shit,” Dad says. His eyes cut a little too close to my direction as he focuses in on Duke. Quickly, I slide to my left to ensure I’m hidden behind the wall and hope Dad didn’t see my movement. “You and Nic figure out what you’re having? Holly keeps busting my nuts about buying baby shit. She needs to know—pink or blue.”

“A little asshole, judging from its parents,” Wyatt says. I peek back around in time to see him focus in on Dad as he smirks at Wyatt.

“Don’t know yet. Nic wants to be surprised,” Duke says. “But it’s fucking killing me. I just want to know already.”

“Sweets going on about baby shit is trouble for you, brother,” Wyatt says with his eyes on Dad.

Dad just shrugs like he doesn’t care, but I want to think he’s just putting on a front for the guys. “Best way to keep your woman happy is to give her what she wants. You might have one if you’d learned that lesson, Wy. Besides, she gets knocked up, I’ll just be busy when the kid cries. Worked with Layla when we had Chey.”

“How is the ex?” Wyatt asks. Ruby scoffs.

“Fucked up but breathing, which is about all I can ask for these days,” Dad says.

A smile finds its way to my face for a brief moment before a sinking sadness overcomes me, and I decide that I’ve heard enough. It’s not that I can’t talk or hear about my mom. It’s just that it reminds me that she’s not here. And even worse, I don’t even want her here. She doesn’t ride my ass about homework, she doesn’t watch movies with me that I know she hates, and she isn’t here for me to talk to about Jeremy and every screwed up thing that’s happening around town. She’s not a mom, but she’s all I had. Until Holly.

My head falls softly against the wall in front me as I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Tears sting my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall down my cheeks. I’ve cried enough over her and won’t let myself go down this road again. She’s ruined enough of my life. It takes a moment, but I pull myself out of that place I’d rather not be and stride down the hall and back into the garage.

My only exit routes are the garage or Dad and Holly’s room on the bottom level. I can’t really explain being in the parental unit’s bedroom, nor can I reasonably explain hanging out in the garage, but there’s an exterior door to the side of the house from the garage that can at least get me in the backyard where I can hang out for a while and make it seem like I was locked out of the house and had to go around front to get in via the security code. I don’t know if it sounds as good as I think it does, but it’s better than the alternative.

Darting across the garage and out the door to the side of the house takes but a moment. I’m heading for the backyard when the telltale sound of a branch cracking behind me alerts me that I’m not alone. I swing around quickly, a scream building in my throat as I prepare to swing at anything and everything within reach.

“Chill!” a masculine voice, not especially deep and not particularly confident, says. I calm my crazy eyes down long enough to see the Forsaken patch on the leather vest that rests on his shoulders. Beneath FORSAKEN is another patch that reads DETROIT. He’s young, can’t be more than twenty-five if I had to guess, and he isn’t an officer judging from the lack of additional patches.

Uncle Rig—this guy must have come into town with Uncle Rig.

“Sorry,” I say, now more than a little embarrassed. I smile apologetically as I appraise him. He’s tall and lanky but carrying a fair amount of muscle. He has light blond hair and a pair of kind blue eyes peer at me inquisitively.

“Detroit, huh?” I nod my head to his patch. “Escaped winter?”

His smile widens and his eyes dance with mischief. “Heard a lot about the fine women in California. Glad to see the rumors are true.”

His smooth talking causes a blush to rise to my cheeks. I’m so much more than the little girl Dad and my uncles want to think of me as. It’s nice to have a member of Forsaken appreciate my more feminine qualities. I’m not counting Jeremy since we’re the same age and all. This guy is definitely not a teenager.

“I got an idea who you are, but why don’t you tell me your name, babe?”

I smirk at his forward attitude. This guy has a thing or two he can stand to learn about Forsaken women.

“You first, handsome.” I purse my lips while I fold my arms across my chest.

“You see my patch?” His tone is bored, but his smile gives him away.

“I ain’t blind,” I say. “This is my house and my town, pal. Name please.” We’re flirting, so it makes all of this okay. If he were old or serious, I’d be heading for my dad to take care of this for me, but this guy seems safe to tease.

“Daniel,” he says with a shake of his head. The smile on his face never fades.

Giving him a sexy smile—at least I hope it’s coming across as sexy—I rake my eyes up and down his frame. He’s surely attractive, and I’ve no doubt that if I weren’t already crushing so bad on Jeremy I’d be hoping the end result of all this flirting would be heated kissing and some light petting. But I am crushing on Jeremy, and I doubt Daniel’s idea of a happy ending is light petting. The thought of a man who I’d bet has more experience than I can fathom having his way with me scares me a little and calms the urge to flirt shamelessly as I’ve been doing.

“Cheyenne,” I say and point to my chest. “I take it you’re here for my dad.”

He gives a low whistle. “Bloody Knuckles’s kid. Should have known. A babe like you learned to bust balls early in life, didn’t you?”

“You know it,” I say and head for the front door. Being busted by this guy makes it impossible to go sneak into the backyard now. Crap. I don’t know how I’m going to play this off. If it were six months ago, Dad wouldn’t give a shit what I was doing. But now? Everything is too dangerous, and I really, absolutely can’t handle another lecture from Aunt Ruby—because that’s who Dad sends in when he gives up—telling me how I’m going to get myself or someone else killed by wandering off all the time. I don’t care if this dude is charming and cute. I’m just no longer in the mood to be social now that I have to fabricate yet another freaking lie.

“This way.” I say lead him around the front of the house and toward the front door. He follows closely, almost too close, and when we’re less than twenty feet from the front porch, he wraps his hand around mine. I spin around in confusion and stare up at him.

Leaning in close, he says, “You got an old man?”

I suck in a deep breath, the motion causing his attention to redirect from my eyes to my mouth. Instinctively, my tongue darts out and wets my lips. The near-constant smile on his face darkens as he steps even closer. The cool leather of his cut grazes my thin cotton shirt. His warm, sour breath basks over my face, and despite how much I think I could like him in another time and another place, this doesn’t feel right.

“I’ll take that as a no,” he says and slides his hand up around the back of my neck as he guides my face toward his.

I’m not scared to tell him no. I just don’t know how. Grown men, especially Forsaken, don’t hit on me. Like ever. Dad makes sure they all know who I am so they can stay away. Before Alex stormed into town, I even had Ryan tell me that, no matter how cute I’ve gotten, he’ll never touch me because my dad is such a fucking asshole. We weren’t even talking. I was just sitting at a picnic table at the clubhouse and eating some fried chicken Aunt Ruby cooked up. He came up, plopped down, started eating, and then proceeded to tell me that I shouldn’t like Forsaken men because Dad’s gotten me blackballed.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he says, obviously noticing how tense I am. His lips barely touch mine, but he doesn’t press. “I’m not an asshole.” Then he pulls back and places his hand beneath my chin. “Don’t ever be afraid to tell me no. I’m not that kind of man. You’re safe with me.”

I nod my head, still trying to catch my breath from what could have been something incredibly hot or super intimidating. His words slip over me, providing little comfort. Everything just happened so fast. One moment we were walking, and the next, he was practically dry humping me in the driveway.

“Miss Priss is off limits,” Jeremy shouts as his footsteps rush toward us. I hadn’t even heard the front door open much less hear the guys. I glance behind me to find that not only is Jeremy charging toward us, but so are Dad, Uncle Wyatt, and Duke.

“She yours?” Daniel asks with raised eyebrows. Jeremy’s jaw locks in place as his nostrils flare. Daniel smirks. “You’re a prospect, boy. What’s yours is Forsaken’s.”