“You don’t know that.”
“A little faith would be nice, Ash,” I snap, fucking done with this same pointless argument. She doesn’t understand. No one does unless they are in my shoes.
“You are putting your life and your future at risk for stupid fucking money!” she shouts, yanking her hands back and throwing them in the air. “It’s ridiculous and unnecessary when I have more than enough to support all of us!”
“For the last time, I am not a fucking charity case!” I roar, slamming my hands down on the wheel.
“I never said you were,” she shouts back. “What difference does it make whose money it is as long as we have enough?”
“I will not be beholden to my girlfriend. It’s my job to support myself and my family. Not fucking yours!”
“Actually, it’s your mom’s job to support the family. Not yours,” she says, holding her chin up defiantly, and I see red.
Ash hasn’t tried to keep her crumbling family together since that bitch Hera ripped into her life and tore it to shreds. Ash wasn’t the one holding her sobbing mother in her arms when she fell apart. She wasn’t the one watching helplessly from the sidelines while her mother sank deeper and deeper into a black hole. Ash has never had to stay awake at night, fighting sleep from a chair in her mother’s room, terrified to nod off while on suicide watch.
I love my girl to bits, but she doesn’t get to throw shade at my mom.
“Get the fuck out of the car, Ash!” I yell, needing her to go before I say something I can’t take back. Stretching across her, I fling her door open. “I did not want to do this tonight.” I try to leash my anger, but she has me fully wound up now. “You want to keep me safe, sweetheart?” I snarl at her. “Then don’t fucking rile me up before I’m going to meet my contact. It pisses me off and distracts me.”
“Fine.” She hops out. “Go meet your contact, you fucking idiot! Ugh.” She slams the door shut with more force than necessary, before thumping her fist on the hood of my truck. Ash sends me one final glare before she stomps off.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!!” I smash my head back against the headrest, beyond aggravated. Remembering the time and the dangerous asshole I’m scheduled to meet, I put the pedal to the metal and peel out of there.
The entire drive to the meeting point, I’m trying to calm down because I need my wits about me when meeting Jose, but I’m too fucking pissed. At myself as much as Ash.
I’m trying to put myself in her shoes. It’s natural Ash would point the finger at my mom. She doesn’t know how bad it got—how bad it still is—because I sheltered her from the worst of it. I know my girl feels caught in the middle. As much as I hate Hera Shaw, and I really, really do, she is Ash’s new stepmom, and she’s been there for her in a way her own mother hasn’t.
I don’t want to come between them any more than I have.
So, I hid a lot of the stuff going down at home to spare Ash having to pick sides. Perhaps I should have told her everything. God knows, I could have used her advice and support when things were really bad. But I made my decision, and I can’t exactly backtrack now.
The truth is, Ash cares about me. I know her words are coming from a place of concern and love, and I need that in my life. If shit blows up with Jase, as I suspect it’s going to, Ash is all I have. I don’t want to fight with her and risk what we have. I couldn’t bear to lose her. She’s my reason for living.
I regret the things I said to her and vow to call her the minute I’m out of the meeting to make things right.
But she beats me to it.
My cell rings when I’m five minutes away from the rendezvous, and I contemplate blowing Ash off. If she’s calling to drive her point home, I don’t need the extra irritation. Yet, I want to make things right, and I don’t like ignoring my girl. I’m conscious she’s home alone with that shit-for-brains stepbrother. If she needs me, I want to be there for her. So, I answer. “What?” I ask in a gruff tone, hackles raised and on edge.
“I’m not going to say sorry for worrying about your welfare, Chad, but I am sorry for angering you just before a meet.” There’s a brief pause. “I just love you so much, and the thought of anything happening to you terrifies me, babe.”
A huge chunk slices off my anger as I turn the corner, spotting headlights in the distance. “I’ll be super careful, I promise. And I have my gun.”
The other piece of advice Saint and the guys gave me was to get armed and to learn how to use it. So, I did. Ash is already skilled with firearms, thanks to her dad. He’s been taking Ash hunting and to the gun range for years. My girl spent hours with me at the range over the summer, teaching me what she knows. Add that to a few lessons I had with a pro trainer, and I’m confident now with a gun in my hand.
“I can’t lose you too, Chad,” she quietly says. “Come home to me safely.”
“I will. Love you.”
“I’ll be waiting,” she says before hanging up.
Pulling up to the side of the warehouse, I cut the engine and kill the lights. Removing my Glock from its hiding place underneath my seat, I tuck it into my jeans. Feeling eyes on me, I look out the side window.
An unfamiliar guy wearing a Sainthood leather cut sits behind the wheel of the beat-up Chevy parked alongside me, eyeballing me like I’m his next meal. I get out, and he flicks his head in the direction of the warehouse. Lifting my head, I project confidence as I walk toward the wooden structure with a swagger in my step. A lot of the time, confidence is all in the way you hold yourself and how adept you are at faking it.
The instant I step inside the door, the cool head of a gun is pressed into my temple from the side. I work hard not to panic. The Sainthood needs me, so they’re not going to put a bullet in my skull. At least, not yet.
“You’re late,” Jose snarls, reprimand evident in his pissy tone.
