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CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

PHILLIPA

I ’d felt sorry for Woody, knowing only too well how it’s natural to believe all the blame is on you in a bad situation. How it twists you up thinking about what you could have done or done differently. I’d spoken from the heart, shared some of my own experiences with him, talked through signs that he thought he should have noticed, while I proposed there were none. Skunk had played him like a virtuoso, but as I told Woody, there were good reasons for that, and not one showed anything lacking on his part. I proposed that an impostor prospect like Skunk was a worse evil to root out than a federal plant, as the latter would have to be a darn good actor, relying on research and information, while Skunk had lived the life, had already prospected and knew exactly what was expected. My blunt common sense had given him room to start the process of forgiving himself, while I was certain that on the same ground that I’d give him, none of his brothers blamed him.

That Saint had noticed an improvement when Woody had approached the bar warmed me, and not only because I was trying to find acceptance in the club, but because I genuinely wanted to help the troubled man.

Then Saint had to remind me I liked his dominance, and while I wouldn’t put up with a man who told me what to do all the time, in bed, I just want to switch off. I suppose that makes me a sexual submissive, but I’m happy with that label. Saint’s the first man I’ve been with who I can trust to get the job done, so I don’t need to stress and worry about giving instructions or finishing myself off after he’s gone. And wow, it works, I don’t want to mess with our dynamic. Le petit mort , I could never understand why the French described orgasms as the little death before, and now I know.

I’m kind of lost in a daydream as, despite my training, I don’t notice someone approaching. But my eyes snap fast to the newcomer as she winds her hands around my man’s neck. My hand reaches for my crutch, ready to launch myself at her, when Saint grabs her arms and, none too gently, removes them.

“Get out of here, Star. I’ve got an old lady. And you can tell the girls to keep their hands to themselves.”

“Oh, but Saint. You know I give it to you just how you like it.”

As I seethe, he retorts, “She gives it to me better.” Then, just as I start getting angry at the thought he’s only with me for the sex, he expands on his answer. “I like her company, in and out of bed, and she’s going to be my ride or die until death.” His eyes meet mine with a hint of sadness in them.

His words at least get her to back off, but make my stomach fall. I’ve got a job to do if we’re going to live to a ripe old age together. Glancing around the room, I see Freak has just entered and is standing by the bar. With a chin raise and a meaningful glance toward Saint, I get my crutch under me, get to my feet, and go over to greet the enforcer.

Freak hears the clumping of my crutch and turns, his brow rising when he sees I’m unaccompanied.

“Can I have a word?” I move closer and jerk my head toward an empty table.

“Sure,” he says, sarcastically, and turns to the prospect bartending. “Get the condemned another beer.”

He’s going to be a hard nut to crack. But I manage to hold the bottle and balance myself as I hop to the table and wait for him to sit down.

He doesn’t give me a chance to speak. “Ace is my world. The best part of me and the only reminder I have of his mother and sister. I’ll do anything, kill anyone, to keep him safe.”

I reach into the pocket of Saint’s sweats and pull out what I’d brought with me for exactly this purpose, the just shy of one thousand dollars I’d won in the poker game, and which Saint had adamantly refused to take as payment for my clothes. Laying the money down on the table, I point to it and explain, “That’s for Ace.”

His eyes crease, then he frowns. “You can’t buy my approval.”

Shrugging, I tell him, “Think of it as a start to his bail money fund.”

He’s over the table with his hand to my throat, roaring, “My son won’t need bail money.”

He releases me as another voice yells, “Get your fuckin’ hands off my woman.”

As Freak turns on Saint, who’s now inches away from the table with a fist raised, I shout as loud as I can. “Just listen to me!” My voice somehow gets through to the two of them, and they simultaneously turn to look at me. “Hear me out?” I gentle my tone.

If Saint wasn’t here, I think Freak would have walked away, but with his VP’s pressure on his shoulder, he sits down again. “One minute,” he offers. “Ain’t got no more time for you.”

“Ace is brilliant, I’m in awe of what he can do. But he needs help to keep out of the eyes of the wrong people.” I move my head side to side. “I don’t even think he’d go to jail, he’s far more useful and is more likely to be dragged into work for the government. Then there’s the possibility he could slip up and come to the attention of people on the other side of the law. And whoever finds out about him, whether legal or illegal, they’ll find ways to manipulate him, by using the connection between him and you.” I’ve hit a nerve, I can see it in Freak’s face.

My thoughts are confirmed when he says, “That’s why Genie covers his tracks.”

“Genie hasn’t worked in cyber-based crime investigation. He doesn’t know what they look for, how they follow a trail, what methods they use, and what tools they have to uncover sources.” I pause for a second, then add with emphasis, “I do. I know what anyone investigating a crime looks for, so I am also thoroughly versed in how to evade detection. I like Ace. He’s covered my back, given me a chance at a future with Saint,” I take the opportunity to reach for my man’s hand. “I can work with Ace, teach him all that I know.”

“Hey, I’d like in on that.” Looking up, I see it’s Genie who’s answered. He’s looking earnestly at Freak. “Brother, there’s a limit to what I can do. Can’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“She’s bartering for her fuckin’ life,” the enforcer growls.

Genie looks at me thoughtfully. “Maybe, maybe not. But can you afford to take the chance? Ace is a fuckin’ genius, but he needs to understand the world in which he works.”

I don’t say anymore. Just leave Freak to think about it. Suddenly, he pushes back his chair, stands, then leans over the table, all but spitting into my face. “Tomorrow, you start teaching Ace. You tell him every secret you fuckin’ know. And Genie? I want you there to check every single fuckin’ word that she says.”

Offering a serious nod, I realise what I’ve committed myself to. Betraying the investigative workings of our government to keep one kid out of jail. To save my life? Well, that wouldn’t be worth it. But to have a future with Saint, that’s worth the world.

As the enforcer leaves the room, a slow hand clap sounds. “Nicely played. What are you going to offer me?”

Piston had been at the poker game. “A chance to win back your money?” I offer in my sweetest tone.

He barks a laugh and slams his hand on Saint’s back. “I like her, VP.” Then his mirth fades. “Just wish she didn’t have that fuckin’ neon sign flashing Fed over her head.”

“VP. A word?”

Saint rises from his chair and pauses to plant a kiss on my forehead before making his way over to Bullseye. The two disappear into the prez’s office. I clock the four faces of the bunnies showing various expressions at Saint’s show of affection, Star in particular looking like she’s seething, but one standing slightly behind the others, a redhead with a wide smile on her face actually gives me a thumbs up. Apart from the women, some of the brothers present are also regarding me strangely.

I rise, take my empty bottle to the bar, and ask for a water. Knight smiles politely at me and loosens the top before passing it over.

Turning I lean against the bar and survey the room behind me. Words, who hadn’t been here earlier, now saunters in. He’s a man who fascinates me. I’ve heard him called an undertaker, but also that he works in a mortuary, so when he approaches the bar, I stay where I am. Taking a look at his face, I ask, “Hard day?” When he raises a brow at me, I realise that he’s probably spent at least some of it disposing of Skunk’s body in the cremator. “What do you actually do, Words? I mean, outside of half-burning unidentified bodies and disposing of enemies?”

He huffs a laugh. “Town’s small. The mortuary, crematorium and burial services are all under one roof. I’m the manager.”

“Useful.” I’m curious. “Were you a King before you worked there, or did you…”

He gets my meaning, beckons to Knight and indicates the top shelf. When the prospect pours him a pure malt whiskey, he belatedly asks if I’d like one too. I say yes, sure that I can still keep a clear head about me and intrigued to hear what the man has to say next. The shots appear in front of us.

Words picks one up, tips it to his mouth and swallows it down. Then he indicates he wants a refill. When that appears, he stares into it when he picks it up. “Few years back, got a corpse in from the hospital to the mortuary, young girl, so badly beaten up, there were no facial features to recognise. They’d tried to save her, but she was too far gone.” A shadow falls over his eyes. “No one should ever suffer like that. She was beaten, raped, burned with cigarettes. Her DNA wasn’t in any database, and no one had reported anyone of her stature missing in town.” His eyes cloud as he’s lost in his memory. “I recognised her from the tattoo on her arm. She’d been at my school, and a few years younger than me. As they do, kids experiment and play around. She’d gotten a rudimentary amateur tattoo of a butterfly on her wrist. At school it was a bit of a scandal, but her parents didn’t give a damn.” He turns to me, his eyes piercing. “She was a somebody, not a no one. But no fuckin’ person wanted to claim her.” All I can do is raise my chin to show I understand. “I noticed something under her fingernails. She’d obviously fought back. I questioned the sheriff, but he said they could find no match. Even when I told him I knew who she was, he said I was mistaken, that the parents of the girl I’d named said she was happy and living in New York.

“Around that time, I was approached by the Kings. Cautiously, of course. The long and short of it was they were sounding me out about cremating a body. At any other time, I would have said no. But I couldn’t get this girl out of my head, so offered tit for tat. If they got the name of the bastard that had killed her, I’d do their dirty work.” This time he sips at his shot. “Fuck knows how, but they traced the DNA of the blood under her fingernails, turned out it was the town’s golden boy. It was obvious everyone was protecting him, and from the bank accounts, the parents had been paid off.” He offers a mirthless grin toward me. “Said golden boy lost his life when his tyre exploded, and his fancy car went over the guardrail. And funnily enough, the girl’s parents found their bank accounts wiped.” He pauses, then emphasises, “I fuckin’ owed the Kings. I told them I was theirs for life. No questions asked, well, all except one, and I answered that with a resounding yes. I became a prospect and never looked back.”

His story hits me in the gut. I don’t doubt any of it. “Not all heroes wear capes or carry badges.”

He raises his glass expectantly, so I also lift mine. “Too fuckin’ right,” he agrees, as we clink our drinks together.