Page 112 of Property of Rattler

“Yeah, yeah.” She waves him off. As he disappears, she leans in close and confides, “He hates being called ‘kid’.” Then she shrugs, “But he’ll always be that to us.”

Actually, I’ve got sympathy with him, I’m only three years older. And I’d hate if that moniker was applied to me. But I keep my mouth shut. I don’t know Trixie well enough to argue on his behalf.

Trixie leans forward, placing her hands on the table. “I sent him away so I could check in with you. How are you really feeling about Satin?”

I rest my head in my hands. “Fucking terrible. Betrayed, hurt. You name it. I don’t understand why she did what she did.”

She purses her lips and her brow furrows. “I don’t understand why she tried to kill you.”

I have one answer. “She didn’t know that Malachi was dead. And if I died, my inheritance would go to my brother. Volkov probably thought he could get his money that way.” My lips press together as tears come into my eyes. “She was a good friend, Trix. She found me on the streets, got me away. She loved,” I start to choke up, “playing the role of my bodyguard. She let me share her apartment that she rented here, and it was her money that kept us fed. She earned more dancing than I did as a server. She never asked for anything in return. I’d always planned to reward and reimburse her when I came into my inheritance.” A tear leaks from my eye. “I never thought for one minute she’d betray me. I defended her when Flynn told me his suspicions.”

Trixie places her hand over mine and squeezes it gently. “Strippers often come from a hard life, Ames. It’s rare someone takes that occupation because they want to. Maybe she saw money as her way out. I’m not saying she didn’t care for you, but maybe she cared about herself more.”

“If the brothers hadn’t rushed out…” I swallow hard, remembering the scene. How scared I was when she’d taken that gun out.

“There was a bug planted under that table, Freak told me,” she adds fast, when I widen my eyes. “They were listening and heard everything.”

If they hadn’t done that, if the prospect hadn’t distracted her for a moment, it could be me dead, and enjoying Words’ facilities now. The thought is chilling.

“I think it’s margarita time,” Trixie announces, placing both her hands flat on the table. “Dum?” she yells. “We need a pitcher of margaritas, and we need it now.”

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

RATTLER

Ireally didn’t want to leave my woman, but at least she was in good hands with Trixie. If Ames needed me, she’d come and get me. Nevertheless, I walk into church, wishing I could have stayed with her. Seeing Satin killed in front of her had messed with her head, her reaction had scared the fuck out of me.

Because of my slow progress, I’m the last person in. Surprisingly patient, Bullseye waits until I take my seat. Woody, who’s sat next to me, stands, helps me with my crutches, then holds my arm as I sit. I send him a chin lift of appreciation.Fuck, I hate being so helpless.

Once I’m settled, Bullseye bangs the gavel. It’s ceremonial rather than necessary, as all eyes are already looking at him, all of us anxious to know why he’s called this emergency meeting.

He glances around the table and sighs. “I’ve just taken a phone call from the Pakhan.” I sit up straighter as he’s caught my interest. For a moment his stare lands on me, then he moves it away. “In my first phone call to him, I’d laid out everything as we discussed. He asked for time to think.” He pauses, and pincheshis nose, before looking back up. “This was his second call. He sounded cagey about Volkov. Whatever’s going to happen to him, he’ll keep it in-house. Positively, he did confirm the hit on the clubhouse wasn’t Bratva sanctioned. We’re off the hook, as we suspected, none of those killed during the attack, nor the ones Rat disposed of at the cabin, were his men.”

Words grumbles. “Can we please keep the fuckin’ body count down? The cremator will need an upgrade if we keep up like this.”

I, on the other hand, tilt my head to one side, surely this is good news?

But Prez’s expression suggests it’s anything but, as he continues with his eyes again fixed firmly on me. “He also said that money owed to the casino was money owed to the Bratva, and that the debt was still to be paid.” It’s now his face grows thunderous. “He stated Stone made promises which need to be kept. Therefore, as arranged, Stone’s sister should still marry into the Bratva. If not Volkov, one of hisboeviks. His enforcers,” he clarifies.

Fucking what?“She’s married to me.” My fist meets the table.

Prez fixes his eyes on me. “Stone’s debt was a drop on the ocean compared to what Ames stands to inherit. Word of your marriage hasn’t yet reached him, and I decided to hold that little tidbit back. Don’t want them starting to think there’s an obstacle that needs to be got out of the way.” Sighing, he brushes his hands back through his hair. “I’ve since spoken to Big Daddy.” He references our national prez. “It’s only been weeks since we pitted ourselves against the New York Mafia…”

“We got away with that,” Freak growls. “We left Alongi’s body in New York. It was put down as a local hit, or that’s what our New York brothers told us.”

Paying him the same amount of attention as he paid me, in other words, none, Prez continues, “He reckons we’ve already skirted too close to the fuckin’ sun. He doesn’t want the Kings to make enemies of the Bratva.”

Saint gets in before I can. “He’s not suggesting we simply hand Rat’s legal wife over?”

Prez shrugs. “He wants things smoothed over in a way that doesn’t make waves. He’s not suggesting that, per se, but he wants us to come up with options that don’t include starting a war.” He pauses, “He knows Rattler and Ames’s marriage is only on paper. Therefore, club property doesn’t apply.” A resigned look comes over his face. “It might have been easier if it wasn’t Rattler who’s caught up in the middle of this.” Sighing, he looks my way, “You do have a reputation as an asshole.”

Well, fuck. I raise my hand, Bullseye indicates I can talk. “It’s past time that I apologise for my behaviour. I got a fucked-up past, can’t trust a good thing when I see it, as Ames pointed out. But I can change…”

“Don’t want you to fuckin’ change, Bro.” It’s Tempest who speaks. “I fuckin’ missed you keeping us on our toes while you were at the cabin.”

“You didn’t bear the brunt of his jibes,” Short points out, then shaking his head, adds, “But you’re right.”

“I’d just like you to rein it in, but still rattle our chains.” Saint leans over the table to address me directly. “Sometimes we need it.”