This morning I’d been hurt and angry.
Now I was hurt and angry but for different reasons.
Jesus fucking Christ, when did I turn into this guy—the one that had feelings? I’d cut off that side of me the day I’d killed my own mom, and I hadn’t missed him.
I slammed my hand on the steering wheel. “This is bullshit!” I yelled to no one, growing more and more frustrated.
And it was.
Total bullshit.
Belle didn’t deserve to die, even if the code said she did.
Shooter and the club had given her her life back while we waded through the shitstorm she’d helped create, but that didn’t mean they’d let her off. Despite the fear she’d felt, she’d still betrayed us—betrayed me. But maybe if she could redeem herself in their eyes.
I pulled out my cell and dialed Shooter, who picked up almost immediately.
“She cut loose already?” he asked.
Yeah, we’d all expected her to try to run. People in her situation tended to have the same two responses: fight or flight. So far she hadn’t done either of them, and maybe that was what was confusing me. Fuck, this whole thing with Belle had been confusing, right from day one.
“No, she’s gone to visit her godmother Jenna,” I replied, looking up at the window I knew Jenna occupied.
“What’s up then?”
“You spanked that bitch already?” Casa yelled in the background.
“Will you shut the fuck up?” Shooter grumbled. He was irritable. He was always irritable these days. Life at home wasn’t getting any better, and every day I saw more and more of his father in him with the way he spoke to everyone. Shooter’s dad Hardy had been the worst and best thing to ever happen to the club. He’d made all of us so much money and opened up so many channels for business, but then he’d gotten greedy. Life had run him through the mill until he’d turned his back on everything we ever stood for. When all this was over I needed to speak to Rider and Gauge and try and sort this shit out.
“She wants to make it right with the club,” I said bluntly, ignoring Casa.
Shooter sighed. “It don’t work like that, Beast, you know that.”
I pulled my cigarettes out of my cut and tapped one out with one hand before popping it between my lips, but then thought better of it. This wasn’t my car and she’d have a shit fit if I smoked in it. She was clearly proud of it, because it might have been a piece of shit but it was immaculate: not a piece of paper or a coffee cup, not even a smudge on the window. I unclipped my seatbelt and climbed out, and leaning back against the door I lit the cigarette and blew out a mouthful of smoke.
“It needs to work like that,” I replied as calmly as I could. Because it did. He needed to make it work or I would. No one was going to hurt her, I didn’t care what our code said. “She’s willing to do whatever it takes, Prez. She knows she fucked up and I’m backing her a hundred percent.”
Shooter sighed again and I realized that everything had gone quiet behind him. I looked up and down the street, and then back up to Jenna’s window. I’d been in these apartments before and knew they were nice inside, so it didn’t make any sense that Belle was living in such a shitty trailer while Jenna lived here. I scowled and took another drag of my cigarette, feeling pissed off for Belle all over again.
I was slowly figuring out what it was about Belle that had me all messed up: she reminded me of myself ten years ago.
“Well?” I prompted, trying to tame the attitude in my tone so as not to piss off Shooter, because that wouldn’t help Belle at all. But it was hard, because inside I was a mass of anger and frustration. “Don’t make me choose between her or the club, Prez.”
I hated saying those words to him, because we both knew what they meant. It meant if it came to a choice between her or the club…I’d pick her.
“I’ll put it to the club today, but don’t get your hopes up,” he replied.
“Why would I get my hopes up? I don’t care about her, I just think everyone deserves a second chance,” I lied, the lie transparent.
I threw my cigarette to the ground, watching as Belle came out of the apartment building. She walked with her shoulders slumped and her eyes on the ground, and I swallowed at how beautiful her misery was.
“Beast, you’re all fucked up over this girl, and I get why, but it can’t affect the club. You know the rules. And you know what happens to traitors.”
“But she isn’t!” I yelled, my gaze still on Belle. She looked up when I raised my voice, a frown puckering between her eyebrows. I held up a hand, telling her to stay away for a moment, and she nodded and stepped over to the sidewalk behind the car. I lowered my tone when I spoke next. “We brought her into this without telling her the rules. Brother, she never stood a chance and that’s on us—that’s on you and me, not her.”
“You’re right, it is,” Shooter agreed. “We should have warned her.”
I breathed a sigh of relief that he was at least listening to me, and I dragged a hand down my face as he continued.
