CHARLOTTE: Soul Sisters - Book One (The Soul Sisters 1) Page 9

  “Sorry, my maid’s on vacation.”

  Trick grabs his hair and yanks his head back. “Show some damn respect.”

  I notice his leg is messed up, and his shoe is now turned at an angle. I squat and pull his pant leg up, but there’s no leg to find, just a prosthesis. I stare up at him. “How’d you get the prosthetic leg?”

  “None of your business.”

  “Put him in that chair.” I lift my chin to the worn, grimy easy chair he obviously sits in all the time.

  I walk over to a shelf and see a Marine Corp Good Conduct Medal, an Afghanistan Campaign Medal, and a Bronze Star. I look over at him. “Where’d you serve?”

  “All over.”

  “Where’d you get this?” I point to the Bronze Star.

  “Sangin Valley, Helmand Province.”

  “What for?”

  “What do you care?”

  “Cut the smartass comebacks, and just fucking tell me.”

  He huffs out an exasperated breath. “I was recognized for shielding my squad members from a makeshift grenade and repelling an enemy ambush. Satisfied?”

  “When were you there?”

  “It was during a 2010 deployment.”

  “Which company?”

  “Lima Company, 3rd Battalion, 7th Marines. Got anymore questions?”

  “That how you ended up with the prosthetic leg?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And the dog. He’s a service animal?”

  “Yep.”

  “You forget to feed him?”

  His eyes shift away, suddenly not so full of bluster. “Sometimes. I don’t mean to; I just take too many pills and pass out.”

  “You got an anger problem? Is that what keeps you holed up in this shit hole?”

  “I got a lot of problems. You don’t like my shit hole home, then get the fuck out.”

  “Settle down. We’re just talkin’ here.”

  “You’ve done a hell of a lot of criticizing since you walked in. You got any more questions before you show yourselves out?”

  “Yeah. You bothering Scarlett?”

  “Who?”

  “The chick who runs Badlands. Don’t play stupid with me.” I’ll cut him some slack for his service, but I’ve no respect for the way he’s living his life now.

  “Why the fuck would I be bothering her?”

  “Because I heard you get upset when people try to feed your starving dog.” I drill his eyes with mine.

  He drags a hand down his face. “Told you, I forget sometimes. But when other people feed Scout, he starts to run off.”

  “Well, who the hell wouldn’t from a dump like this? That animal counts on you for everything. Seems least you could do is feed him.” I walk over and see its water bowl in the kitchen is empty. “He supposed to drink out of your filthy toilet or what? You can’t even fill his damn water bowl, asshole?”

  His hands shake as he reaches for a bottle of liquor. “I need a fucking drink.”

  I grab it and hold it out of his reach. “Last thing you need is another drink.”

  “What the fuck? Give me my booze back. I paid for that with the last of my disability check.”

  “Sure you did.” I search the cabinets in the kitchen. Not a bag or can of dog food to be found.

  I look at Trick. “Get Mutt down here with the van.”

  He nods and pulls his phone out, sending the text.

  “What are you gonna do?” Ryan asks, his eyes wide and darting between us.

  I lean in his face. “I’m gonna take you out of the equation until we figure out who the fuck is messing with what’s mine.” I point a finger in the direction of the bar. “That woman across the street, she’s mine. Understand?”

  “Sure. Whatever. Like I said, I ain’t the one bothering her.”

  “We’ll see. Turns out it was you, you’ll pray you’d never been born.”

  “Where am I goin’?”

  “Clubhouse. Gonna dry you out and clean you up. Feed your dog. See if we can still find that Marine buried down in your heart.” I tap his chest with my index finger. “You think he’s still in there?”

  “He’s still there.”

  “Then you’d better fucking find him, Sgt. Rhett.”

  After Mutt shows up with the van and hauls Ryan and his dog off, I talk with Lobo and Trick outside.

  Trick nods his head to the gas station. “Owner says Ryan doesn’t run the gas station, just lives in the shack behind it and is supposed to clean, take out the garbage, etc. He’s more of a charity case than anything. But he gets pissed when the dog runs off and other people feed it. He has anger issues.”

  I nod and turn to Lobo. “What’s your take? You think he had anything to do with killing that coyote and hauling it over there?”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Check the bumper and bed of his pickup for blood or fur.”

  Trick jogs to it and goes over it in detail, then returns, shaking his head. “Nothing. And the battery’s dead. Owner of the station said it’s been dead for a week. Reason he knows is because the guy’s been trying to bum money off him that long so he could get a new one.”

  “All right. Head on back.”

  “Where you goin’?” Trick asks my retreating back as I walk across the road.

  “To get my woman.”

  “You claimin’ her, Prez?”

  “Thought that was pretty obvious, VP, or are you slow?”

  There’s laughter behind me.

  I walk up to the cottage. “Take off, Shine,” I order my man guarding her door.

  He nods and heads to his bike.

  I open the door, and she spins from where she was standing in the kitchen, her hands on the sink, staring out the window.

  “Pack a bag, you’re moving into the clubhouse until I find the son-of-a-bitch who did this.”

  Her mouth drops open, but she just stands frozen in place. “Is that necessary?”

  “Yep.”

  Still she stands there.

  “You want me to pack it for you?”

  She shakes her head, and finally, her feet start moving.

  I slap her ass as she walks by. “Shake a leg, Cherry.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Charlotte—

  Daytona’s got one hand tightly clasped around mine, the other toting the overnight bag he insisted I pack. He said we’d be heading to his house, but first he needed to stop off at the clubhouse. The moment he leads me inside, I hear the murmured grumblings.

  “The skinny girl’s back.”

  “She’s here again? Thought they were over.”

  “Christ, she brought luggage.”

  Daytona starts to steer us toward the bar, but I pull back. He turns to look at me, a questioning frown on his face. “What is it, babe?”

  “I just want to say something.” I turn to look at all the men who are now staring at us, some with curiosity, some with open disdain for me, and I know right off the bat that gaining their respect is going to be an uphill battle. “I, um, want to apologize to everyone for my behavior last night. I was wrong to barge in here, throwing accusations around like that. I hope you’ll understand that I was afraid—terrified actually—and I reacted by covering it with bravado, trying to be tough, and not show weakness. That’s no excuse, though, and I know it. I jumped to conclusions without even giving the club the benefit of the doubt. I was wrong to do that. I hope eventually you’ll be able to forgive me.”

  There’s silence for a moment, and then one man by the bar stands and starts clapping slowly and loudly. More men join him, and soon all of them are giving me a standing ovation. I’ve received them before in my career on stage as a singer and musician, but none of those have ever meant as much as this one does right now.

  My eyes sting, and my vision blurs. I suck my lips into my mouth and drag in a deep breath through my nose, trying not to cry.

  Daytona drops my overnight bag on the floor with a thud.

  The next thing I know, he puts ou
r clasped hands over his head, bends and puts a shoulder to my stomach, and I’m up and over his shoulder.

  I squeak out a shriek, as he fireman carries me into his office amid his brother’s hoots and hollers.

  “Y’all have fun, and take care of our Prez.”

  “And be gentle with him, he’s a romantic.”

  I turn a hundred shades of red at their innuendoes.

  Daytona sets me down on his desk and moves between my legs, then takes my face in his hands and kisses me before I can get a word out.

  I get lost in his kiss until his office, the clubhouse, and the rowdy men in the next room all fade away, and it’s just Daytona with his mouth on mine, and his hands on my body. Heaven, right here. And I know how much this means to me because I almost lost it, and now I have it back. And I don’t want to lose it again, but that niggling thought flits through my brain, reminding me I’m living someone else’s life. I’m living a lie, and I’m terrified that when he finds out, I’ll lose him all over again.

  So, when he breaks the kiss and stares into my eyes with a big smile, I convince myself that the truth can wait a little longer.

  “What you just did in there”—he tilts his head toward the other side of his office door—“that right there is why I want to make you my queen someday. And why I know you’re the right woman to deal with the club and being an ol’ lady.”

  “You’re getting a little ahead of yourself.”

  “Am I? This doesn’t feel right to you?”

  “It does. It’s just we’ve only known each other a short time.”

  “What if I was made for you and you were made for me?”

  “Soul mates?”

  “When it’s right, you know it. But if you need time. I’ll give you time.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “We’re gonna find the guy who’s been bothering you and put an end to that. Then you and I are going to take all the time you need, until you know this is right. Deal?”

  “Deal.” I smile up at him, warmth flowing through me at the way he looks at me, so sure of me, of us, of everything. I love how confident he is. I cup his face with a palm. “You make me feel safe and wanted.”

  “That’s because you are.” He presses a quick kiss to my lips before pulling back. “There’s one thing between us I want to get cleared up. So you know, with absolute fact, you’re not wrong to put your trust in me.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Something I want to show you. Come on.” He lifts me off the desk and takes my hand. We walk back through the clubhouse. A couple heads at the bar turn as some of his brothers watch us walk out.

  “That was quick. I ain’t even finished my beer yet.”

  “Damn, Cherry, next time make him at least get you off first.”

  There are a few snickers.

  “Knock it off with the wisecracks, boys. Show my woman some respect.” Daytona doesn’t even slow down as he throws those words over his shoulder, then holds the door open for me.

  He leads me to his bike parked next to my truck, and I admire the motorcycle’s sleek black looks and the low hard-sider saddlebags.

  He passes me a helmet from one of those shiny cases. “Got this for you. You don’t like it, we’ll pick you out another one.”

  I take it. “Thank you. It means a lot that you got it for me.”

  “You’ll need it, because I’m hoping we’ll be taking more rides together in the future.” He swings his leg over and lifts the big machine off its kickstand.

  I scramble on behind him.

  He drops a hand to my thigh and gives it a squeeze. “You good?”

  “Yes.” I’m filled with excitement, and smile brightly.

  “Hold on, babe.”

  I wrap my arms around his slim waist, and off we go. He rides us slowly back down the long gravel drive to the cattle gate, stopping to let us through. Then we’re on blacktop, the bike surging forward, the powerful engine escalating to a much faster speed almost immediately.

  It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced before with the wind in my face, the heat of the sun beating down on us, and the bike vibrating beneath us. I’m able to take in the beauty of the desert all around me, almost as if I’m flying over it. It’s very different than riding inside a vehicle, even with a window down.

  With the motorcycle, it’s like we’re one with the environment, a part of it, and it’s invigorating.

  We ride for about twenty minutes before he finally stops on the other side of the Spring Mountains, and we descend. He pulls over at a small lookout, and we can see out over the desert valley in the distance.

  We dismount and pull the helmets off.

  Daytona comes up behind me, dips his head to mine, and points to something in the distance. “See those?”

  I follow his gaze and see a faint motion, like rows of waving, glinting metal. I frown. “What are those?”

  “Wind turbines. Rows of them. About three hundred.”

  “Wow. I had no clue those were out here.”

  “You know how much the landowner makes when they lease out the land for those?”

  “No idea. How much?”

  “Eight grand a piece per year.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “Nope.”

  “And there are three hundred of them out there?”

  “Yup.”

  “Why… that’s worth—”

  “Two point four million.”

  “Holy shit, that’s a lot of money.”

  “That’s a lot of land.” He takes my hand and pulls me toward a boulder, and we sit. “I told you before, I want to lay it all out for you. That’s what I’m doin’ now. The club—our Vegas chapter—was built on drug money and loan sharking. We pull a damn good income off them, too. But there’s a ton of risk, especially with the drugs. We’ve been making a drug similar to Ecstasy. Gives a big high, cheap to make, not addictive. Problem is, it’s difficult to make just right. If the boys get a batch wrong, it can kill someone. We’ve had a string of overdoses with it, and that doesn’t sit well with me.

  “To start with, we were just selling it to dealers who were selling to tourists—ones in town to have a good time, and business was booming. But a sudden string of ODs on the strip set the DEA on our trail. We’ve had some close calls with our whole setup being busted. So, I’ve been lookin’ to move the club out of the drug business and into something legal and safe.”

  “Wind turbines?”

  “Yep. And that’s where Badlands comes in.”

  “Badlands? How?”

  “The land. When Buck left you the bar, he left you all that land along with it.”

  Land? I had no idea. How much land? God, I need to talk to Scarlett.

  “Wind turbines need an unchanging and uninterrupted flow of air to work effectively, which means there must be no obstructions nearby. Turbines need to be at least seven rotor diameters away from each other. The power company wants to expand their operation and have identified another seventy square mile area with the perfect geography and winds. I own twenty of it.”

  “Who owns the rest?”

  “You do.”

  “Me?”

  “The sixty square miles Buck owned is right in that area.”

  Oh my God. Does Scarlett know any of this? She couldn’t. She wouldn’t be going to the MC for a loan if she did. Sixty square miles? Maybe that’s what she needed that loan for—inheritance tax on all that land.

  “So now you know.”

  “And that’s why you want the bar.”

  “That’s why we want the land. The bar is just a bonus.”

  “Then that land is pretty damn valuable. How much were you planning on giving me for it?”

  “Fair market value.”

  “Apparently it’s worth millions of dollars a year.” If he can do it, I could do it for Scarlett, and then she’d have something—really have something worth having.

  “If this deal goes through, and when the company g
ets the turbines built. That could take years, Cherry. Look, I didn’t have to tell you any of this. But I did. I want to be open and honest with you. No secrets.”

  No secrets. Tell him, a voice in my head whispers. Now’s your chance. But something stops me. “If you can get those leasing contracts, why can’t I?”

  “I guess I’m hoping you’ll see the better solution is getting your man’s MC out of the drug business.”

  “My man?”

  “I’m hoping that’s what I am.”

  “Are you interested in me just because of the land?” There. I said it. I came right out and asked the two point four million dollar question.

  He surges to his feet and paces away. Sucking in a long breath, he drags a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated with the question. Finally, he turns to pin me with his eyes and points back in the general direction of Cold Creek and Badlands. “The night I walked in and saw you, all I had to do was buy the land from you. You got a debt to the club, Cherry. I could have just put pressure on you, like we do with anyone else who owes us money. I didn’t do any of that. And I’m standing here now, tellin’ you our whole goddamn setup. None of this I have to do.”

  “I understand. I get the importance of the gesture.”

  “Gesture? Babe, it’s a hell of a lot more than a gesture. I’m givin’ you all my trust here. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

  I surge to my feet. “Yes. It absolutely does. But that land—it’s all I have—and I don’t deserve to be cheated, either.”

  “Understood. I’m tryin’ to make something here, to build something for the future. For my club and for us. I’m building a kingdom, and I want you to be a part of it all.”

  I look off at the horizon and the wind turbines slowly spinning in the distance. He comes up behind me and wraps his arms around me.

  “Look, let’s just shelve the idea for now. You keep your bar, and I’ll cover what you owe the MC. We see where things take us. Okay?” He nuzzles my ear.

  I put my hand on his forearm. “There are people in this world—all they do is take. Your things, your freedom, even your voice. Until they’ve taken everything from you. Until they’ve sucked you dry, and then they toss you aside.”