Distance is good.
Distance means I’m in control.
The only time I get with her is when I hold her small body against mine at night. I lay her on our bed and tuck the cover over her. Then I go to my side of the bed, and I remain there unless she entangles herself to me during the night. I don’t touch her and I try not to look at her.
Today was a busy one. I got bad news from one of our men in Louisville. Our warehouse burned last night, and I already know who did it.
Nero.
Fucking Italian mob from Philadephia, who’s getting hungry recently. We got a few of his guys three months ago. Vox took care of them, and Carter made them talk. Nero wants to expand with drug trafficking, and he knows we’re already set up and running here. He’s trying to get us down and collectthe dough as if I would ever let that happen. I’ve reinforced the security of all our other warehouses and had a few calls with our suppliers, just making sure everything runs smoothly.
It’s already late, the sun is starting to set, and I think of Mia. I know she’s got a lot of work too, clients calling her from different time zones asking for her to work her magic in a limited time. As Maria reported to me, Mia spends her days working from home, calling her sister at lunch, knitting, reading, coloring or whatever hobby she’s in the mood for, then she works out and goes to sleep. I’ve been told she doesn’t eat much, though. That’s not okay.
I kind of wish I could observe her myself, but I’m trying not to stalk her. Watching her would make me want to talk to her more, and one thing would lead to another, and I could fucking taste the bitterness of betrayal sneaking under my ribcage.
I need to stay focused right now and not get distracted by my breathtaking wife. I’m putting together a team to guard her when she goes out. It’s taking some time because we’re fucking busy with Nero’s moves and I want to make sure she’s in the best hands possible. Normally, Old Ladies don’t need bodyguards when they go out, especially when they stay on the club’s territory, but we got threats from Nero recently, and a lot of them.
Better safe than sorry.
Calling the guys for a meeting after yesterday’s event, I put Vox on a video call. He’s back in Seattle and won’t be here for a few weeks, so we’re making it work this way. The dimly lit room at the club is filled with a mix of leather scent, metal and tension. I sit at the head of the table, fucking pissed at the money we lost last night. My brothers are gathered around.
"Alright, listen up. Nero’s making moves, and we need to shut that shit down before it gets outta hand. Last night’sfire was his fucking message. Now we need to send one back." I inform them, my voice low and steady.
Shadow, with his tall figure, leans forward, his eyes narrowing. "What’s the plan?" I know they’re as angry as me. It took us fucking work to put the warehouse up and running in Louisville, and it all went in flames before we could save anything. At least we have a dozen more spread in the country, but still, I’m fucking pissed.
"We’re gonna catch any men we can from Nero’s crew. I don’t care who it is, if they work for him, we’re taking them. Carter, you’re gonna handle the interrogation. Make them talk," I order.
Carter nods with his usual face, hiding all human emotions. "Consider it done."
Vox's voice crackles through the speaker. "I've got contacts in Philadelphia keepin' an eye on Nero's operations. We can coordinate to hit them where it hurts."
"Good," I reply. "We need to make a statement. Blade, you and Tank will be on the front lines. I want you to scout our territory, take the prospects with ya, find these bastards, and bring them in."
Blade cracks his knuckles. "Got it, boss."
I know I can count on my men and it feels good as hell to know we all have each other's backs. Blade and Tanks are twins; they’re ten years older than me. They knew the club before I became prez, but still, they live by our rules and follow my command. Both used to be in the Army. Tank had shitty PTSD. He recovered but kept the discipline in him. Blade’s more wild; sometimes I wonder if he hasn’t lost the sense of fear, the fucker’s addicted to adrenaline.
Tank, his hulking frame casting a shadow across the table, grunts in agreement. "We'll get it done."
I look around the room, making eye contact with each of my men. "This isn't just about territory or money. It's about sending a message. Nobody fucks with the Raven Sons and gets away with it. We protect our own, and we protect this club.”
“Somethin’ else.” I pinch the bridge of my nose ‘cause fuck, I hate when shit gets personal.
“Keep an eye on the folks you care about,” I warn them because I know Nero doesn’t have rules like us; he’s sneaky and could probably kidnap a woman or a child to get what he wants. “Mostly women, kids. Heard he liked to bargain. Let’s not give him the opportunity.” The air thickens, turning heavy and suffocating. They all nod, their eyes hooded and determined, like mine.
“Alright. Back to work.” I tap my hand on the massive wooden table once, and the guys all leave and go back to their tasks.
I sigh. Shit’s about to get real and violent, and somehow the only face coming to my mind is Mia’s. A protective surge spreads in my chest, making me want to punch something.
I should get back home early today. Just to see her. Make sure she’s alright.
I’ll protect her and keep her safe.
Even if she doesn’t want me to.
Mia
“I don’t know about the blue one; try the red one again,” I tell my sister on the video call we started an hour ago when she asked for my opinion on a few dresses she got.
