Now we’re on a run in town checking in with a new supplier for Tart. Ashley is pretty much the woman in charge of the bakery, and she made sure Blackjack knew the list of things that still needed to be done. We just left a baked good supplier who will provide the bakery with flour, almond flour, coconut flour, sugar, extracts, icings, and pretty much everything they need to run the damn place. They didn’t want to give Ashley the same deal they gave the previous owners, but I talked them into it considering she’s keeping things on their menu that were original to their café. Plus, she’s doubled the order every week, so if you ask me, they should be honoring the twenty percent loyalty discount, and now they will be.
Razor still has his cut on stating he’s part of the Raiders of Valhalla and a Nomad. “You talk to your Prez yet about patching into our club?” I ask him.
As far as I know, we’ve been allies with the Raiders of Valhalla MC since they founded their club. Patching over into the Reapers Rejects shouldn’t be too much of an issue.
Razor shrugs his shoulders, “Not yet. I haven’t spoken to Runes about anything official. He does know the conversations I’ve had and for the consistency I want in my life. Turns out they’re setting up a satellite home base in Tallahassee. Our VP’s ex-ol’ lady just died, and he’s gotta take care of the kids and shit. Hell, if I knew we ever would’ve settled down like he’s startin’ to do now . . . I would’ve made a bigger play at gettin’ the VP spot. Fenrir is a good one, but I’ve been doin’ this a lot longer than he has.”
I lean against my bike and take in the bright sun on this late April day. I think the snow’s finally behind us, and I, for one, can’t wait for it to get warmer. I’m itchin’ to get some time in upstate and have a few days of complete isolation in a cabin, swimmin’ in the water, relaxin’ as much as I can.
In the midst of my daydream, I spot a familiar face across the street. One that causes me to forget Razor and I were even talkin’ in the first place. I watch the scrawny blond fucker walk up the street and turn the corner, instantly causin’ me to follow him. Now, I haven’t seen him around in ages, but every time I do see him, it means trouble is nearby. His previous employer was the General, and the man has been dead for a while, which means someone else is trying to move into this territory.
Footsteps are hot and heavy behind me, meanin’ Razor’s followin’ my lead. I turn the corner and spot him smirkin’ like a bastard by a dumpster with someone else across from him. He pulls somethin’ from the back pocket of his jeans and I spot the plastic reflecting in the sun.
Oh, hell no.
I run like the wind and tackle the guy, and from the side of my view, Razor’s running past me to grab whoever the other guy was. I grab him by his collar and turn him around, and Donnie, the slimy fuck smirks. “Shit, I thought you missed me.”
“Cut your shit out. Where’d you get that shit?” I snarl, grabbin’ the packet of clearish blue glass from his hand. I check for a seal, looking for some sort of identifier, and what I see blows my mind.
“What sort of joke is this?”
“It’s not a joke. I’m working for the same man.” Donnie snickers, licking his lips as he laughs.
There’s no way. “He’s dead. How’re you working for him if he’s fuckin’ dead?” I question him. Grabbing him by the collar, I shove him up against the brick wall and push his shoulder blades further into the stone.
“Who do you think I’m working for?” Donnie continues laughing, obviously amused by this.
“Hammer, want me to let her go?” I glance over at Razor’s question and see the person across from Donnie is a girl. A teenager? She looks oddly familiar, but I don’t know how. I can’t place her, but something about her makes me want to know more.
“What’s your name?” I ask the girl.
She looks to Razor and then to me before her eyes lock on my cut. “Oakleigh.”
“Alright, Oakleigh. How old are you?” She’s got purple braids and her skin is a light mocha color with the darkest chocolate eyes. How the hell do I know this woman? Why does she look so damn familiar?
She swallows hard. “Eighteen.” She has tattoos on her left arm, so of course, she’d be legal.
I look at Donnie, “Don’t you fuckin’ move, or I’ll break your fuckin’ knees,” I seethe, then walk over to her. As I get closer, she reminds me of my sister in a way. She has the same facial structure, and her eyes are the same. It must be some sort of coincidence.
Razor looks behind me and I know Donnie’s moved. “Stay there, Donnie, and don’t think I’m playin’. I’m itchin’ for some trouble, and you’re askin’ for it.”
“Come on, man,” Donnie whines.
I hold the bag out in front of the girl, “Oakleigh, why’s a pretty girl like you tryin’ to get some of this? It’ll ruin your life.”
Her expression is completely stoic, “My life can’t get any worse,” she shakes her head, looking down at the ground.
“It can, trust me, especially if you start on this. There’s no turnin’ back from it. Now, why do you need this stuff?”
She swallows and looks right into my eyes, “Right now? Probably ‘cause I ran into my biological father in the middle of the street.”
I blink at her, confused beyond reason, and quickly realize she’s talking about me.
She’s fucking talking about me.
Chapter Six
She was a forgiver. Her heart was so large, she didn’t know how to give up on the good in people
~ Unknown
Shiloh
Smirnoff screwdrivers are the only thing getting me through this day. I told her I’d come back home, and now I’m stuck doing it. Why the fuck did I offer to go? That’s right because she cornered me. Stiletto had to go and knock the shit out of her, and of course, my mother dearest threatened to sue. She would. She’s the type.
I brush my hand through my hair and grab onto the neck of the bottle, taking another swig of the sweet yet tangy liquid. I could get drunk off a whole six-pack of these. Hell, I don’t even know how many I’ve had at this point. Two? Three? After a while, they all start to blend together.
“You doin’ alright, darlin’?” I turn and look to my left, where Razor, a Nomad for the Raiders of Valhalla MC, is sitting. He’s been here for a little bit now, and word on the street is Zane’s looking at him as the most qualified to be Amara’s VP down in Mexico. He’s been a Nomad for years and wants to settle down, or so they say.
I nod, giving him a sweet smile. “I’m perfectly fine, but thank you.”
I’ve been in this club for many years now, but the way Razor’s looking at me doesn’t make me feel like he wants a quick fuck. No, he’s the type who’s genuinely asking if I’m okay like he actually gives a damn. “Good, just been seein’ you throw a few of those back. I’ve seen a lot of women get in situations they never wanted to after a little bit too much,” he mutters, speaking a bit lower.