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“Tell me you’re not in love with that piece of ass you inked up,” Cyrus said. “You think I can’t see it? What the fuck do you want me to do, Slade? Kill her? Lose one of my best guys over some pussy? But yet she’s not just some pussy, no. I know it. You’ll figure it out soon too.”
“It’s more than just Nelle.”
“There’s a message too—”
“Cyrus,” Slade said. “What the fuck?”
Cyrus stepped back and rubbed his jaw. “We’re going to be battling these guys for a long time, Slade. We have been. It’s been a silent war. But it’s there. Maybe part of me hasn’t wanted this to kick up, but here it is. Here we are.”
“Meaning?”
“Dimitri wanted to use us to moveyellow bunny. That was a long time ago. But he wanted it. He promised the club the world. I knew better. I didn’t even bring it to the table. I refused.”
“Jesus Christ,Prez,” Slade said. “You made that decision without a vote…”
“I know what I did back then. I’d do the same now. But they’re the ones feeding theyellow bunny. And I’m wondering if with Dimitri gone, the kid isn’t the one throwing bodies atSS13. Using them as pawns. To get to us.”
“Fuck.”
“Fuck… right. We have something he wants. The last sister. He probably was never rejected before.”
“He won’t stop,” Slade said. “He’ll want her. He can’t have her, Cyrus. I won’t allow it. I’ll…” Slade swallowed hard. The thoughts that wanted to come next were very powerful words. He thought about it once more. “I’ll give up my cut and take her somewhere else if I have to. She’s not a pawn. Not a prize.”
“I know that, Slade. If I wanted her as a pawn, I would have done it already.” Cyrus grabbed Slade by the side of his neck. “When you find what you feel right now you hold tight. You fight. Youdieif you have to.”
“So, what, on top of everything else, we have to deal with the Russian mafia?”
“Slade, open your eyes, brother. Everything is already here. It’s on our plates. In our clubhouse. Right here in our town.”
Slade wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Cyrus so beat up and exhausted before.
Cyrus turned away. “I’ll say it again, Slade.Go to your girl.”
This time, Slade obeyed the command from the President of Sins of Fire Real Anarchy West.
Chapter Thirty-Three
What That Heart and Mouth Can Do
Nelle sat on the edge of the bed.
Guilt and defeat moved through her body but it was surprisingly mixed with relief. There was nothing left to know. Nothing left to lose either.Other than her life.Yet in some way she already accepted that fact. If the outlaws wanted to take her out, fine. If the mafia wanted to get her… fine.
The worst feeling though? Knowing she had done nothing wrong. Nelle took care of her sisters. The best she could. As long as she could.
Why didn’t I keep track better…? Why didn’t I know Damien took power? I could have done something…
Nelle brought the bottle of whiskey to her lips and took a drink. She caught herself actually enjoying the taste of fire and broken glass running down her throat. Her stomach felt coated and calm. In other words, she didn’t think she’d get sick from the whiskey this time. Or maybe ever again. She felt like an outlaw now.Sort of.
The bedroom door opened and Nelle sucked in a breath. A million memories flooded her mind. That deep seeded fear of being huddled up in a closet with her two sisters, hugging them, rocking them, promising them that everything would be okay.Whispering made-up stories about forests and cabins and the smells of food and thinking of dumb jokes. Yet always feeling like someone was going to kick down the closet door and take them all…
It was just Slade who entered the room. He shut the door and engaged the lock. He walked toward the bed and plucked the bottle of whiskey from her hands and drank it like it was a bottle of water.
The bottlepoppedoff Slade’s lips. Nelle felt herself melting a little bit into the bed. Every single mannerism of Slade’s made her feel that way. Warm.Wet.
Slade placed the whiskey bottle on the nightstand. He touched under Nelle’s chin. There were questions to ask. Things to say. Nelle didn’t feel like talking at the moment so she placed a hand against Slade’s heavy bulge in his jeans. She couldn’t cup him—he was far too big. But her fingertips did meet and tug at this forgiving zipper. She pulled and wiggled, wrestling the zipper down…
Her fingers met again at the button on Slade’s jeans. There really was a lot to talk about. Her mouth could not fix everything. Neither could her body. But Slade hadn’t stopped her yet…
