“No,” I say, looking him square in the eyes. “She’s alive and well. Just fucked her on her living room floor.”
Before he can respond, the other members start filing into the room. Ten minutes later, the double doors are closed and locked.
Awkward silence falls as I stand and start walking around the room, searching for the right words. How can I accuse the woman I love of destroying my life? Of setting my MC up for a war against another club we already hated? We’ve lost members over it, buried four who were shot or stabbed by Dead Dogs—and practically sainted the girl. Her fucking portrait hangs in the clubhouse like she’s the pope. I shoot a frustrated look to Tonsils, who just nods. I can see his pain. He loved Angel. We all did. I still do.
“I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a lunatic. In time, the details will come out—we’ll understand things better. But last night I found out Angel Orani is alive.” I snatch the shirt off the table and throw it to the other end so my brothers can see it. “I ripped this from her body.”
Slowly, the shirt is passed around. There’s grumbling and quite a few stunned glances sent my way.
“Where is she?” Sunny asks.
“How did you find her?” Sam shakes his head and tosses the evidence away, looking disgusted.
“I met her at Lazaro’s bachelor party ten days ago. She’s undergone a complete transformation—plastic surgery, everything else to hide her true identity. Her new name is Serafina Scala. She lives in Texarkana. We spent Thursday night at my cabin. For a moment there, I thought I was ready to move on. Ready to claim an old lady. So I showed up at her apartment unannounced. I found her in this shirt, looking at photographs of us and her family.”
“Holy shit,” Sam says.
“Why did she hide?” Tonsils asks. “That girl loved you—us.”
I glance out the window on the other side of the room. The weather matches my mood. It’s unusually cool outside, storm clouds rolling in. “To tell you the truth, I didn’t ask.”
“Where is she now?” Blue asks.
“At her apartment. I sent Cannon there to keep watch.”
“The Dead Dogs would pay a hefty price to get her back,” Sunny comments.
I growl my disapproval. Bear would beat her savagely and then turn her into a passaround. No matter her transgressions, I won’t let her suffer like that. I’d rather shoot her in the head myself.
“She deserves a chance to defend herself,” Blue says. “And we have the right to question her—inquisition style if necessary.”
I couldn’t agree more. “What do you suggest?” Blue is one of our officers.
“Bring Angel here.”
“No one, not even the old ladies, can know about this. If the Dead Dogs find out she’s alive, it’ll start a war. Like nothing we’ve ever seen,” I warn.
My brothers agree.
Time to put the idea to a vote. “All in favor of bringing Angel Orani here, say aye.”
It’s unanimous. For the first time since the inception of the Iron Norsemen, a woman is going to attend church.
