Then he leaned to the table, put his elbow on it, and bent his neck to run his hand through his hair.
He’d curled his fingers around the back of his neck, the wood of the table all he could see, when he finally muttered aloud, “Fuck.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Hear?
Millie
“NO CARISSA, SHE’S too young, too new to the fold,” Tyra declared. “And no Tabby, because she’s too pregnant.”
“Hear you,” Elvira muttered.
“Agreed,” Lanie said.
I sat with my back to the arm of the couch under the window of Tyra’s office at Ride’s garage, my neck twisted to look out the window.
We were having our powwow as called by me through Tyra.
It was Tyra’s decision that it was only Lanie, Elvira, and me.
She was the president’s old lady. There was a hierarchy even if she did not one thing to demand it, so I knew that was her call.
Even so, I agreed with her decision.
“Millie?” she called.
I tore my gaze off the enormous forecourt outside, bikes parked in front of the Compound, our cars parked in front of the office, the noises muted coming through from the garage, and looked to Tyra at her desk.
Elvira was sitting on the couch with me, Lanie in a chair opposite Tyra.
It was three days after the incident and it had gone down like Valenzuela said it would.
Even though I’d reported to the police he was there and I’d witnessed all I’d witnessed, as Valenzuela said he would, a man came forward and confessed to the crimes.
He had all the timings right. He had all the activities right (not including Valenzuela and his assassin being involved, but he corroborated the Pedro hitting me, Carlos making the decision to kidnap me portion of my story).
He also had the gun used in the murders and gunshot residue on his hand.
Nevertheless, Valenzuela was collected, questioned, but he’d alibied out.
Not a prostitute.
His girlfriend, a woman by the name of Camilla Turnbull, said on record that he was with her the entire time.
They’d also found the prostitute I’d described and she’d said she was there but she’d also said the confessed shooter told her to leave prior to the macabre festivities, confirming all I said that went down. But she also confirmed the lie, that the guy who gave the confession was there, not Valenzuela.
Furthering Valenzuela’s story, there was nothing to indicate he was there.
It was a motel; the place was rife with fingerprints and DNA.
None of it belonged to Valenzuela.
Canvasing motel guests brought witnesses to me being forced up the steps and into the room. The prostitute’s attendance. Carlos and Pedro being there.
And the confessed killer was identified.
Dozens of witnesses to folks coming to and going from the motel, and no one reported a positive ID on Valenzuela or mentioned any other man being present.
Logan had refused to allow Zadie to be questioned. She was handling things okay and Logan was not fired up to let anything harm that.
Deb agreed. She was not fired up about any of this and not in a super good mood. But Logan had not been wrong. She didn’t get ugly about it. She looked after her daughters. She’d called and asked after me.
But she obviously knew the way of Chaos and knew her ex-husband.
She was no longer an old lady.
She was still toeing the line.
Anyway, Zadie couldn’t confirm Valenzuela’s involvement because he wasn’t at my house. So she couldn’t give any more to the story than what they already knew.
Valenzuela was careful. He’d totally covered his tracks. In fact? the totality of this was both eerie and scary as shit.
“Millie,” Tyra called again.
I jerked and focused on her.
“Sorry,” I muttered.
“Girl, you gotta get yourself some help,” Elvira encouraged softly, watching me closely. “You need to work things out in your head. The shit you experienced was extreme.”
I drew in breath and shrugged.
She was right, of course. I’d been kidnapped and witnessed two men murdered.
I was an old lady but I wasn’t made of steel.
But I was also handling it.
“Is it messing with you?” Tyra asked.
I nodded. “I wake up at night.” I then shook my head. “Actually, not sleeping great at all.”
“Is High taking care of you?” Lanie asked.
“Yeah,” I said quietly, because he was.
I knew there was rage burning in him down deep.
But in order to take care of me, he was burying it.
I didn’t see it. Not at all.
If I woke up in the middle of the night, he acted like his only reason for being was beating back the demons that woke me. Even during the day when I could control the flashbacks, he was watchful, careful, tender.
It was a balm that was soothing.
But even as potent as it was, I knew there would be a long wait to healing.
“Talked to Malik about this shit,” Elvira declared. “He says as good as the support you have around you is, in every case he’s dealt with, professional help is the only way to go.”
I feared if I admitted I needed a counselor, the wrath Logan was banking would start to blaze out of control.
I slid my eyes to Tyra.
She got me, knew my dilemma, the limited answers to solving it, and gave me a soft smile.
I looked back to Elvira.
“It’s sweet you’re worried but it’d help if we could focus on the task at hand,” I told her.
“I’ll do that. Sure,” she returned. “Only if you promise you’ll consider lookin’ after yourself the way you should.”
I could give her that so I nodded.
“Right, what we need to do isn’t gonna be easy,” Tyra declared.
She was right.
Meddling in the affairs of the brothers was tricky business. If those affairs were dangerous and they were dealing with them the way they felt they had to, it was a no go.
But if Logan was banking his rage, I knew his brothers were too. That was what they did. What one felt, the others reciprocated. What one endured, the others endured with him.
And when vengeance was earned, the others were there to mete it.