Luckily, Prez was too busy with damage control to continue being upset with Marissa. He was more frantic than I’d ever seen him, making phone calls, calling in favours, trying to find out more about the Chasers, and trying to use his drug connections to arrange a meeting with the Preacher.
He even called an emergency church meeting this morning.
“As you all know, my sister, your club’s princess, has recently returned to the fold. What you don't know is that, prior to her return, she escaped an abusive relationship.”
The men murmur, angry and compassionate at once. Prez lifts a hand to silence them.
“In order to escape, she took this man’s money, and he tried kidnapping her for it. Got Slim’s baby mother instead.”
“They do look alike,” Twitch tells Pooh.
“Wouldn’t the Wolves do anything for one of their own?” Prez asks, and they voice their enthusiastic agreement. “I’ve thought about this long and hard, and where I normally would bash her ex’s head in for putting his hands on her, I can’t. He’s the Preacher, one of the top players in the lucrative drug operation we are now part of. He has the power not only to sever his cartel’s ties with the club, which would be catastrophic for us, but he might go as far as to attack us for protecting Rebel. The obvious solution is to show the man our respect and willingness to cooperate by returning the money my sister took, thereby saving both our income and her life.”
You can hear a pin drop. Most men look confused.
Yeah, Rebel stealing from that guy was beyond dumb, but it was life or death. I need them to understand that.
“How much money are we talking about, Prez?” Truck asks carefully.
Sly shifts in his seat. “100K.”
Truck’s head jerks towards him, and his eyes widen in disbelief.
Claw whistles. “Damn.”
I look around the room, and people do not look happy.
“I’m the one who brought that money in by forging alliances with the cartel,” Prez spits. “Besides, what if it was your sister? Your ol’ lady? Wouldn’t you give anything to help save her?”
Truck looks at me sternly, and I look away. I know what he’s thinking, but this is the club princess we’re talking about; that’s different.
People got even more annoyed when Sly tasked Claw with protecting Rebel whenever she's not at the clubhouse.
The memory leaves a foul taste in my mouth.
Back in the day, Sly and I were inseparable, but now, with the shop and everything… Claw’s quickly becoming Sly’s top man in the drug-running scheme, and I’m honestly a little jealous of him.
“Listen,” I finally tell Marissa, annoyed and frustrated. “We have a child, and I was trying to end the relationship on good terms for his sake.”
“By cheating on me? Looks like that didn't work.”
Again with the fucking attitude. “I didn’t come over here to do this with you.”
“Why did you come over, then?” She asks, and for the first time, her attitude wavers.
“I needed a few things, and I wanted to see my son.”
“Well, he’s napping now, so you can look at him all you want. I’m going to go make myself some lunch.”
As I grab my shaving supplies, the bathroom mirror tells me I’m overdue for a haircut. I avoid looking at the bed and head straight to my closet. The familiar smell of the laundry detergent Marissa always uses does something to my gut.
I grab some clean clothes, kiss my boy, and sneak out of my own house like a thief.
*
A few weeks later, when Prez finally manages to arrange a meeting with the Preacher, I insist on being there.
“No fucking way,” Sly tells me. “I don’t need your jealous ass causing a scene. This man is a cartel boss; we need to tread lightly.”
