“That’s really impressive,” she says quietly. “I don’t know if I can afford an office suite here. The trucking company did well because we didn’t have to pay for space. It sat on the same fifty-acre spread that the clubhouse did. Now, they’re both nothing but cinders.”
“You’re my wife, Nova. That means that whatever I own, you share. I’m not charging my own fuckin’ wife office rent.”
“That’s really generous of you, but I think this setback might be more than my company can bear. I hate that my grandfather worked thirty years to build that trucking company, and now we might lose it,” she says.
“Whoever did this is going to answer for it.”
We both get to work, but I start with an e-mail to my father about the fire and my suspicions about Cray. I copy in Jasper, Onyx, and Slate. Then I dive into my own work for the day. Concentrating is difficult because all I can think about is how the conversation with Cray is going to play out. Eventually, I get a response from my old man that he’s set up a meeting for this evening with Cray. Cray agreed to meet us at the neutral ground off Route 9. It’s a roadhouse that’s been used for meetups between clubs for the better part of two decades. Noon. Just officers.
Nova doesn’t like being left out. “I should be there,” she says. “He’s my blood.”
“It’s an officers’ meeting,” I tell her. “No relatives or old ladies are invited.”
“It’s about my grandfather’s businesses, my inheritance, and involves my uncle. By all rights, none of you should be there. I should be having this conversation on my own.”
“Vulture wouldn’t have allowed you to come to an officers’ meeting either, sweetheart, and you know it. If your uncle is doing something shady, making you disappear might just be a preferred solution. So, you’re not going, and you’re most certainly not fuckin’ going by yourself.”
She holds my gaze. “Mica. You’re talking crazy. You know that, right?”
“Nova, Cray is the one with the unhinged club name, not me. I know he’s your uncle, but he’s also a man who has a checkered past and a history of making ruthless decisions. Can you blame me for wanting to play it safe with the best thing in my world?”
Her expression lights up. “I’m really the best thing in your world?”
I stand up, lean over the desk, and give her a quick kiss. “Yeah, you are. And I’m not taking any chances with you.” Cupping her cheek with one hand, I tell her, “You’re going to have to trust me with the things that matter in your life sooner or later. How about we use this as a starting point?”
“Alright, I’ll trust you. Just don’t leave me out of the loop. No matter what you find. I want to know.”
“If I’m wrong about this, you’ll know everything the minute we get back. If I’m right about this, you’ll know that immediately too. Either way, you’re not going to be kept in the dark.”
She gets out of her seat, comes around the desk, and sits in my lap. I cuddle her up, wrapping both arms around her soft body and tucking her head under my chin. This woman of mine has been through a lot today and needs me to comfort her.
I look up to see Rachel hesitating at the door. I motion her in with a hand and point to the side of my desk. She quietly drops two mugs of coffee and leaves quietly, shutting the door behind her.
We end up wrapping up the day early and head back to the clubhouse. Once I get Nova food and get her settled down to eat, I slip out to meet with my old man and three brothers. They’re waiting patiently because they know I have an old lady to attend to. We fire up our engines and head out to the designated meeting spot.
***
Cray is already there when we arrive. He’s at the far table with two of his officers flanking him, a man called Dagger on his left, who I’ve seen at regional council meetings, and a younger one I don’t know on his right. I’ve always thought Cray intentionally cultivated a dark, dangerous image for himself. He’s got all the accouterments you see in our world—prominent ink, scars, and a weathered cut that speaks to how long he’s been wearing it. He looks like carnage on a leash.
My old man, who pretty much looks like Cray’s counterpart, takes the chair directly across from him. Jasper and I take up positions on either side of our old man, while Onyx and Slate stand nearby, alert and ever watchful.
The roadhouse is closed, which is probably Cray’s doing. He’s more suspicious than most and doesn’t like outsiders around when he’s conducting club business.
“So Rock, you clearly called this meeting to report my niece’s trucking yard got torched,” Cray says. The flat, irritated tone of his voice is hard to miss.
“We don’t know who did it,” my old man explains. “No one is above suspicion, even you. It’s our duty to talk to everyone with any proximity to the situation.”
His hand comes out to slam down onto the table, making a resounding thump. “I’m her fuckin’ uncle.”
“You’re also the overseer of her inheritance, an estate worth in excess of a million dollars. You also have a financial interest in the outcome of her businesses,” I state flatly, giving him back the same tone he just gave us.
Cray looks at me with an expression that is several things at once. “Just what I need, a fancy pants accountant with more brains than common sense tryin’ to blame me for shit I didn’t do.”
“I’m not accusing, I’m asking if you had anything to do with the arson. If you did, I want to know what you hope to gain. I don’t care about the money or assets. If that’s what you want, I’ve got money of my own. I can pay you whatever you consider your share of your brother’s estate.”
Cray throws back his head and laughs. “You want to pay me to go away? Is that what I’m hearing you say, boy?”
I skip over the insult and tell it to him straight, “The one and only thing I care about is Nova’s safety and supporting her goal of keeping her grandfather’s legacy alive. If you want something, tell me what it is. Maybe we can work out a deal.”
