He was disappointed in Belle, as ridiculous as that sounded. He was hurt—maybe even more hurt than me. Casa trusted too easily, and he never saw Belle as a traitor. Maybe he was more disappointed in himself than her.
“It is,” Rider agreed.
“I mean, it’s Belle.” Casa shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Belle wouldn’t hurt a fly. She takes care of us. The new prospect readLittlemotherfuckin’WomenandPride andmotherfuckin’Prejudicebecause of her, and then he convinced me to read it. She lectured me on Mr. Darcy, and what his true intentions were and why Elizabeth couldn’t be with him, she—”
“We get it!” Gauge snapped, placing his cigar into the ashtray, a long curl of smoke snaking up like a tendril. “We get it, Casa. I don’t need to be schooled on books to get how fucked up this situation is.”
Casa looked down to his hands like he’d been scolded by his father, and for the first time in a long time he didn’t come back with some witty remark. He stayed silent, mourning Belle.
“We warned you what would happen, brother. At the hospital, we said she’d have to go to ground if she was with them,” Gauge said on a deep sigh, like the air was thick and vile in his mouth and lungs and he didn’t want to have to breathe it in and had been holding his breath for too long. “And we saw it for ourselves. There ain’t no way that shipment could have been hijacked unless she told them. That information was privy to only us in this room and her. She made her bed, brother.”
I nodded again. Because I knew. I remembered. I just didn’t like it. I didn’t want it to be true. Not after last night. No, that wasn’t true. It went further back than that. I just hadn’t truly seen it until last night. And yet here I was, nodding like one of those plastic dogs you saw on dashboards that nods every time the car goes over a bump in the road. Agreeing when I didn’t want to.
We’d made sure the delivery we planned was a fake. We’d set her up to once and for all to test her loyalty, and she’d failed. Gauge was right: she’d made her bed and now it was time to go to ground for it…yet I couldn’t let go.
I looked over at Shooter, who hadn’t said a damn word since we’d sat down in church to have this meeting. He was sitting back in his chair, a cigarette hanging from his lips as he listened to everything we all had to say, his gaze moving from each of us, taking in everyone’s pain and anger.
“She needs to go to ground,” Gauge said simply. “Ain’t no way around it. She turned on the club.” He spread his hands wide, like that was the end of the discussion, and I had the sudden urge to stand up and punch him in his face. And then keep on punching until there was nothing left of his mouth so he couldn’t say those words again. “You knew when you went in there that that was the plan, brother. Just ’cause you dipped your dick in her perfect pussy don’t mean anything’s changed.”
Despite the situation, Casa snickered, and I glared over at him. “Kinda ironic though, ain’t it.”
I knew what he was saying…where he was going, and I agreed. Because yeah, it was ironic that the only woman I’d ever cared about had turned out to be a traitor.
“Maybe there was a reason,” Rider suggested, grasping at straws.
“Don’t change the fact,” Gauge replied coldly. “She turned on the club.”
Shooter sat up straight, pulling the cigarette from between his lips and stubbing it out in the ashtray. He gave a long sigh, finally coming to his decision. He’d heard enough, and Belle’s fate was practically signed, sealed, and delivered.
“So we use her to bait the Italians and then they all go to ground,” he said, and he sounded as disappointed about it as I was. “All of them.”
And there I was nodding again.
Wanted to rip my own damn head off.
“Let’s vote,” Shooter said, his face expressionless.
Around the table, I watched my brothers’ hands going up, sealing Belle’s fate, a sick feeling growing in my gut like fungus. I couldn’t help but feel responsible for the outcome of the situation. I’d asked for her to be my nurse. Demanded she be the one to look after me at the hospital. If I hadn’t, she wouldn’t have gotten herself wrapped up in all of this.
Or maybe I was just bitter because I wished I’d never met her.
Never touched her.
Never tasted her.
This was my fault.
Her death would be on my hands. Her cries would join the chorus of other screams in my head. Her tears and blood would lay at my feet, slowly drowning me.
All eyes landed on me as they waited on my decision. Nothing could be decided unless we all agreed, but how could I agree to this? I pulled my cigarettes out and lit one, inhaling the smoke deep into my lungs and holding it there for several moments before slowly releasing it. Taking my time, mulling everything over. My dick was still aching from where her body had held it tight within it. The scent of her wrapped around me, letting me know that she wasn’t just a hit, she was a woman, a civilian, an innocent…only she wasn’t, not really. She’d been working with the Italians, telling them club secrets. The whole time she’d been caring for me, she’d been whispering what she’d heard to them.
Belle was beautiful, but she was far from innocent.
The burden was hers to share.
And then there was Echo.
He was gone because of those Italians.
