Some days I spent hours staring at that wall, trying to connect the dots. Pulling one of the notebooks closer, I scribbled downMartinelli?then ripped it off and pinned it on the board near Romero’s page.
After staring at the pages with my arms crossed for a few moments, I plopped into the chair and turned, staring up at it again.
So many clues, but how did they string together? Turning and pulling my notebook over, I jotted down the few details I knew from Keys about the Martinelli family, which so far wasn’t much: mafia, worked with Romero, possible trafficking, trying to partner with Petrov, wanted my wife.
My fist tightened. Rage soared through my veins like lava flowing just prior to an eruption.
She’s mine.
Staring down at the last line I’d written, I shook my head. I couldn’t let this distract me. She’s my wife, and she did belong to me now, but I couldn’t fly off the handle over her. There’s too much at stake. This was exactly why I’d decided against an Old Lady. The end game here was to find and destroy the ones responsible for Pops, and hopefully eliminate the threat of the trafficking ring for everyone that was or could be affected.
I had to remind myself this was an arrangement, one that secured us for a long time. Standing, I pinned the papers under Martinelli’s name, then texted Rooster to meet me outside
A trip to Destiny’s Desire’s was long overdue and I needed some wind therapy. After locking my office, I headed outside, lighting a smoke as soon as the door opened. Georgia was humid as fuck, and Pops himself had the clubhouse erected a few years back. Everyone smoked inside for a while before Ma lost her shit because the walls looked like they were bleeding rust, so somehow she banned smoking inside.
Growing up with her, I was a neat freak, so when I saw how much cleaning went into the walls, the tables, even the windows from the smoke, I understood, but still never got why Pops gave in. He loved her hard, but he was in charge.
Walking toward my Harley, I paused. I’d left my desk in shambles.
Fuck.
She really had me by the balls.
“Hey,” a feminine voice called.
Turning, I grinned at the sight of my Kitty Kat. “Hey,” I answered, blowing smoke before flicking the butt away. “You get settled?”
She shoved her hands in her back pockets, nodding. “Yeah, and got the bed back together. Did you see Lacy inside?”
“Just passed her, but she may be in the kitchen. Sugar’s at the bar and she can help you, too.” Sugar had been around a few years. She was a good one, but got possessive a few times, and never ended well. She never did over me, but I’d always made it clear I wouldn’t put up with that shit because it was nothing more than fun. Still, she was loyal and pulled her weight around the clubhouse, far more than some of the bunnies.
“Okay, well, see you later I guess,” she said before turning and heading inside.
My fingers itched, wanting to grab her, but that was exactly why I needed to turn and leave.
Rooster was already waiting on his Harley and strapped his helmet on when he saw me coming. It was always good to have a brother ride with me, but the president was not supposed to ride alone. Pops got lax and was gone. Problem was, when that all went down, Eagle was with us on the run, so the next in line to ride with Pops would have been Butch. He probably encouraged him to go out alone. I should have questioned itthen, but Pops enjoyed a long ride alone sometimes, and there wasn’t much arguing with him. Especially if he wanted a ride with Ma. He wasn’t on any club business, just picking up his Old Lady from work. But, sometimes I wonder if things would have been different if someone had been with them on that ride home.
After hopping on the bike, donning my helmet, and peeling out faster than usual, I soaked up the sun on my face as the crisp air danced over my skin. Rooster caught up to me and I slowed to a cruise, not far over the speed limit. This time of year bounced between sunny and dreary and the temps could be hot or mild. Today was a gorgeous day for a ride with only a few clouds in the sky but a slight coolness to the air.
Having to babysit the strip club was a pain in my ass, but it was Ma’s baby and generated good money. When dancers started going missing from other clubs, I was on high alert, beefing up security, adding cameras, and sending patrols regularly. But when we discovered we had a rat on the inside, I yanked her out of there, kicking and screaming.
Well, she was at the clubhouse when I told her she couldn’t go back. There wasn’t kicking, but there were a few swings, and a lot of screaming. She’d had a rough time lately so I let her have it. We were in private, and I hoped that taking it out on me would get it out of her system.
Instead, she’s been cold, snippy. She still acted like Ma, and took care of the clubhouse. She just made it a point to be just bitchy enough to piss me off, but not enough that we’d have it out in public.
All of this was hard to navigate. She was my mother, and for years, the First Lady. She’s respected and loved by mybrothers, and feared and revered by the bunnies. I didn’t expect to step into this role so soon, and not the way I did.
Pride didn’t touch the tip of what I felt to be not only the president of the Atlanta chapter, but now officially the national president. And Pops had been prepping me for a long time for it, but we always planned a smooth transition.
Not only was I reeling from losing my father, but trying to fill the shoes of my fallen president. I was doing this while keeping our businesses running smoothly, the women out of danger, and trying to exact revenge. The last thing I needed was Ma with her fucking panties in a bunch.
Trying to enjoy the ride, I cleared my mind, or attempted to, anyway. Even though rubber and oil from the highway was abundant, all I could smell was that floral shit from my Kitty Kat.
It was still fucking me up that I kept thinking of her as mine already– and that I couldn’tstopthinking of her. Technically, she was mine, just on paper, though. But it felt like more. Still, that was just some fucked up autonomic response. We definitely had chemistry, but I wasn’t sure a mafia princess who cried instead confronting me about another woman would ever be First Lady material.
Hopefully she’d at least learn to get along with the other women and be a good companion. I meant what I told her: I wouldn’t disrespect her by having another woman. I didn’t need one anyway. I had her now.
Giving up the fight and enjoying thoughts of her and what I’d do to her later now that we broke the ice, I enjoyed the rest of the ride.
