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If there’s a choice, it’s always the family first. Always, no matter what.
Except the thought of turning my back on Valentina feels wrong.
It’s the way she looked at my house surrounded by my family as I walked her to the door after our meeting, like for the first time since I met her, she was happy.
I’m a monster and a killer. I hide behind jokes and smiles. I know what I am, and I do it for my family, for the ones that I love.
But how far can I go? How many lives will I ruin?
I don’t know if Valentina is as temporary as she wants to pretend.
Chapter 13
Valentina
Iget a few lovely days to myself before Ronan picks me up in a black Hummer with windows tinted nearly black. Niall’s driving and Seamus is in the passenger side seat, and there’s another big SUV following behind packed with Hayes Group soldiers.
“Isn’t this a little much?” I ask him as we wind our way out of the city. “It’s just a business meeting, right?”
“Never know with the bikers.” He glances at me, but his eyes don’t linger. He hasn’t been as outgoing and flirty with me today, and I’m not sure why.
But that’s actually preferable. When he grins and calls me love, it makes my damn blood boil, and it’s probably better if he acts like I’m just another business associate.
The change bothers me for some reason though. Probably because it’s different, and I don’t know why. When I ask him if there’s anything bothering him, he only glances at Niall and ends up shaking his head. I can tell he’s blowing me off, and that’s fine—I decide not to push.
Instead of a half hour of Ronan teasing, I get some blessed silence at least.
We end up pulling into the mostly abandoned parking lot of a strip mall that looks like it’s about to be demolished. The only active storefront is a gym taking up the entire left side of the structure, but there are only a couple of cars parked out front. Otherwise, the place looks like it sees more tumbleweeds than patrons.
“Who are we meeting with, exactly?” I ask as we step out of the Hummer.
“One of the biggest motorcycle gangs in the area.” Ronan frowns as his guys fan out and start securing the area. None of them are explicitly carrying weapons, but I’m sure they’re all armed.
Heck, I’ve got the .22 Ronan gave me tucked into a conceal carry holster in the small of my back.
“And that would be?” I ask, annoyed that he’s not being more forthcoming.
“The Faithful Servants.”
I stare at him, my mouth falling open, as the sound of growling bikes drones in the distance. They get closer and closer, until a small fleet of eight men riding enormous Harleys pulls into the lot, circles up, and gets settled.
These guys are exactly what I picture when I close my eyes and think the wordsdouchebag MC dickheads. They’re big, tattooed, covered in patches, flags, symbols, and beards. Each has a gun displayed prominently at their hips like they couldn’t care less about the cops. All wear the “1%er” patch on their chest proudly, the arrogant little pricks.
And worst of all, I know them.
Well, I know their leader, a man named Gregory. He’s got long, salt-and-pepper hair, ripped jeans, the typical biker vest with all the usual patches and bullshit, and a nose like he slammed into a brick wall one too many times. He’s in his fifties, overweight and out of shape, and sneers as he walks over to shake hands with Ronan.
I linger behind them, hoping the dickhead won’t spot me, but unfortunately, I can’t melt into the scenery.
“Holy fuck,” Gregory says, stepping past Ronan. Niall tenses beside me, but Gregory has an enormous grin on his face. “Is that Valentina Santoro?”
“You know each other?” Ronan asks.
“Marco used to do work for the Faithful Servants,” I say and struggle not to groan. “How’s business, Gregory?”
“Fantastic. You tell that boyfriend of yours he does great work.”
“I haven’t seen Marco in a while. We’re not working together anymore.”
