People do some crazy ass shit. I knew Emerald was obsessed with me, but for her to go to the extreme of helping that dickless prick Kryder by keeping him in her house this whole time, and worse, involving her father, still surprises me.
Even so, she’s the one to blame for her own father’s death. I can only imagine the kind of suffering John inflicted on him before he finally put him out of his misery.
This family is all about protecting the ones they love. Friendship means nothing to Salvatore and John. Cecily, either. Their blood does. Especially a young, innocent daughter or niece. Principles run high. Honor, solidarity, and then vengeance. Very few people get a second chance, and Emerald has fucked up in a way she will never be able to fix.
She may not have had a clue that she was disloyal to the wrong people, but she sure as hell will find out once she’s located. Makes me sick to even think I kept her around for years. I feel like it’s all my damn fault. I should have listened to Beamer. All this time, he kept saying he suspected something was off with her, and I didn’t listen.
‘Nah, man. She’s too hung up on me to do anything as stupid as helping Kryder.’
Those were my words, over and over. Fuck. Is she right under our noses like Kryder was? Is her accomplice one of the old club members from when my dad first started up? Someone who hated the fact that I took over when he died? One of the bitches around here I screwed?
“Who the hell is it?” I holler, swiping everything off of my desk. All of it lands on the floor with a loud crash.
Calla strolls in, taking in the destruction. I love it when she walks into my office. I love hearing her voice every day. She’s proved me wrong in every aspect. She’s perfect. She listens. She doesn’t smart off. Well, not in public, anyway.
Not that she’s met too many people. This damn place is quieter than a library, guarded tighter than Guantanamo Bay thanks to my father-in-law, who refuses to let anyone but Priscilla, Bronzer, and Beamer in.
“Who’s what?” she now asks. “Jesus, Cain. What’s gotten into you?”
“Whoever’s helping Emerald, that’s who! I’ve got work to do. I need to get the hell out of here and get it done, but I’m not leaving here until I know who the hell it is. This has gone on long enough. My life with you has been taken away. I can’t even take my wife out to dinner or take her for a long ride on the back of my bike. Shit, I’d even enjoy taking you shopping all day just to be able to get the hell out of here. I want you to be able to go to Canada and get your stuff. Redecorate the house. All I want to do is start my life with you, the life that was stolen from us years ago. If they don’t find that stupid bitch and whoever the hell is dumb enough to help her, I’m going to lose my shit!”
God, why did I quit smoking again? A smoke sure would hit the spot right about now. The bar phone has been ringing nonstop with members wanting to know why they’re not allowed in. I finally had Priscilla set the answering machine to pick up after one ring. They can leave a message. I’m not dealing with them right now. Salvatore’s people from New York are crawling all over the place; it’s like a damn war zone out there. He wasn’t on edge like this when Calla was in Canada, but now that she’s here, he trusts no one. And Manny? He’s off doing my job. Now I feel like Calla did when she first arrived here and I told her she wasn’t going to leave. Except I’m trapped in my own damn territory.
“Whoa there, mister. Who crawled up your ass this morning?”
And there’s her smart little mouth. The one she’s been hiding for the past several days. The one that would look good wrapped around my dick.
“Nothing’s crawled up my ass. You can come over here and crawl on my lap if you want,” I challenge slyly.
Calla strides farther into the room.