How long did the affair last? Did he love her? Did she love him? He’s never volunteered the information, and I’ve never asked.
Now, I want to know. I need to know. Until then, in my self-righteous fury, Sloane needs to pay for his roaming dick. It doesn’t matter how Raine feels.
Raine. Raine Storm. I smile at the unlikely name. It’s apropos. She stormed into my life and turned my life upside down. Now, she’s leaving because I’ve pushed her too far.
I’m empty and hollow inside. Sighing, I get out of the car and jog up the steps.
The moment I open the door, the screams of my niece and nephew, and the rumble of male voices, greet me. Am I imagining things or is motherfucking Sloane home early?
“Shut the fuck up, Jaeger,” he orders, his voice traveling down the hall and answering my question.
Sloane is home. Fuck, no. He can’t be home so soon. Unless…
Sudden rage blinds me. The motherfucker just decides to pop up? Why? Did Dad need to give him more money?
Everything converges inside of me and I stalk down the hallway, intending to break his fucking face. Instead, he’s waiting for me at the family room entrance and ambushes me, punching me in the nose and stunning the fuck out of me. Before I get my bearings, he’s on me, raining blow after blow to my head and torso. He always was a dirty motherfucking fighter. Even my self-righteous fury has no defense against his onslaught.
Stars dance behind my eyelids. Darkness flirts with my brain, leaving me moments from losing consciousness. Male shouts and grunts pound through my head. Children scream. The noise pulls me from the brink of unconsciousness. The punches stop as suddenly as they started.
“Get the fuck off me!” Sloane snarls. “I’m going to kill that motherfucker. Going upstairs and ruining Georgie’s closet. What the fuck is your fucking problem, motherfucker? I thought we were past this shit. I’m fucking killing you. I told you once before not to fuck with my wife.”
“Sloane, fuck, calm down. Your children are screaming.” Quint, the band’s keyboardist, is always the reasonable one.
“They can cry while I murder Kiln.”
“You cannot murder him,” Jaeger advises.
My eyes and nose ache. The world has narrowed to slits. Blood leaks down my mouth and chin. I don’t know if I’m on my feet or if I’ve collapsed.
“Why the fuck can’t I stomp him to death?” Sloane presses around the crying children.
“Maybe, because murder’s illegal,” Maitland says dryly. “You’ll end up in jail and break Georgie’s heart.”
He huffs out a breath. “Fuck, fine.” He kicks my side, and I moan. “Saved by Georgiana. Do you hear me, motherfucker?”
Groaning, I turn, landing flat on my back, arms outstretched, staring at the ceiling. My head, face, chest, stomach, and cock are irreparably damaged. Sloane beat the fuck out of me.
Adam, the band’s bassist, looks down at me and holds out his hand. “Up,” he instructs.
My arm trembles as I feebly grasp Adam’s fingers. If the band members hadn’t been here, Sloane would’ve killed me. On my feet, I stagger to the nearest chair. Adam, Quint, Maitland, and Jaeger, are staring at me like I’m a sideshow at a circus.
Sloane is comforting his kids, but glaring at me as if he’s moments from jumping on me and beating my ass again. I cough, and the taste of blood fills my mouth.
Anger rises in me again. I stand, and sway. “Fuck you.” Blood sprays from my lips as I spit those words to him. “You’re the sole beneficiary of Dad’s estate after all the bullshit I went through. The least I could do was breach Prince Sloane’s lair and see what else he’s hiding from me.”
Groaning, Jaeger scrubs a hand over his face.
Sloane stands to his full height, black rage darkens his face. He resembles a demon. “You’re a fucking liar.”
His words are so low and deadly, I sit the fuck down. Georgiana might’ve stopped him from fucking every woman he comes across, but he’s still a wild man where fights are concerned.
He looks to Jaeger for confirmation, and Jaeger gives a small nod, visibly cringing.
He should. Sloane leaves his son and daughter and rushes Jaeger, grabbing him by the collar and lifting him off his feet.
“Sloane, fuck! I’m calling Georgie,” Maitland cries.
Sloane doesn’t hear. He shakes Jaeger. “What the fuck’s going on? Tell me now, or I’m breaking Kiln in half, using you as the bat.”
“Groveston,” Jaeger chokes out, covering Sloane’s hands with his own in an attempt to have Sloane release him.
“What about the attorney?” Sloane demands, relentless in his chokehold.
The story pours from Jaeger in fast puffs of air. As Jaeger explains what he found out in Houston, I cringe. Apparently, Groveston forged Sloane’s signature in order to receive the bonus Dad promised the attorney, if he got Sloane’s cooperation. Dad didn’t believe Groveston when he said Sloane signed without argument, and the attorney confessed. Although Dad was disappointed in him, he didn’t fire him.
He summoned Jaeger to Houston to explain the situation. Knowing Sloane’s feelings, Groveston hadn’t even approached him. Sloane knew nothing about any of it.
As Jaeger finishes, Sloane punches him, allowing Jaeger to scramble away.
Sloane stalks him. “Why the fuck didn’t one of you tell me about this?”
“We didn’t know anything before you left,” Jaeger says. He screams as Sloane grabs him by the throat again, and squeezes.
Even when Jaeger’s face starts to purple, Sloane doesn’t stop. Does Sloane realize he’s strangling him?
“Stop, please!” I call, thankful when Adam, Maitland, and Quint drags Sloane away and makes him focus on his son and daughter.
Holding his neck, Jaeger writhes on the floor as Sloane picks up Bryn and then Chance.
Just as he quiets his children and sets them back in their play yard, Jaeger stand and opens his fucking mouth again.
“Dad is begging for your forgiveness. He needs you to come in and sign. Dad’s…you’re getting a portion now. If you sign. Then, we will be put back into the will.”
The guys groan and, if I had the strength, I’d punch the fuck out of Jaeger myself. It doesn’t surprise me when Sloane rushes him again, grabbing him and shaking him like a rag doll.
“What did you say to that bullshit?” Sloane demands.
“Sloane…” Jaeger whines.
Sloane tightens his hold and Jaeger gasps. Adam, Quint, and Maitland look horrified. Me? I can’t believe Sloane didn’t know. Groveston, the conniving fucker, manipulated me and Mother.
“Call her before this ends bad,” Adam whispers to Maitland, speaking of Georgiana.
Yes, please. Sloane is ready to murder everyone, then keel over, dead from a fit of rage.
“You told him I’d sign?” he asks Jaeger with incredulity.
Jaeger closes his eyes, so he doesn’t see the punch that Sloane delivers to his face. The one that sends Jaeger flying back and crashing into an end table. Sloane advances toward him and Jaeger clambers back, dodging Sloane and crawling around the sofa to the other side.
The sound of a dial tone competes with the noises of the fight and the whining of the children.
“What’s up, Maitland?” Georgiana starts.
Upon hearing her voice, I sag in relief.
“Georgie, get home!” Maitland calls as Sloane says, “I’m fucking you, Kiln, and Groveston up.”
Georgiana gasps. “Sloane!”
“What’s wrong, Georgie?” a voice asks.
Raine? Raine is with Georgiana?
I didn’t even think about her, once I heard Sloane’s voice. Anger took away my reasoning.
“Raine?” I mumble, hoping she’ll hear me.
“I don’t know, Raine,” Georgie answers. “Sloane, listen to me!” she yells.
“How fucking dare you motherfuckers,” he snarls, ignoring his wife. “I want nothing from Rand Mason. Not a penny. Not an eyel
ash. He killed my sister. He fucked over me, all of us, for fucking years.” He reaches Jaeger again and punches him again. “You saying I’d accept that money has nothing to do with me, you greedy motherfucker. It has to do with you.”
Jaeger wrenches himself away and screams, “Help, Georgie!”
“Sloane, please,” Georgie says over the speakerphone. “Calm down. I’m on my way home. Please, don’t hurt them.”
“Don’t hurt them? Are you kidding me? Do you know what they’ve done? What the fuck made them believe I’d want that motherfucker’s fortune? I’d burn it the fuck down first. If my father doesn’t leave that money to Kiln, Abby, Jaeger, Alexia, and Asher, it can go to fucking hell.”
“Sloane,” she soothes. “Groveston’s a snake. Maybe, we can go to Houston to visit Rand and get a firsthand account to muddle through this. You can tell him face-to-face you don’t want his money. Tell him you’ve already made provisions for them in your will and…and they don’t need to inherit from him.”
“No, Georgie. They deserve the money. He put them through hell and back. Not to mention thinking of denying paternity of Asher so he could make the world believe I was his father. Who the fuck does that? He could’ve done for Asher, what he never did for Kiln, Jaeger, and Steffie. Sick motherfucker.”
“Jaeger, call Groveston,”
Georgiana’s words penetrate my shock over Sloane’s last statements. Jaeger and me share a look. I want the ground to open and swallow me whole. In all the months since Sloane and I buried our differences—on his side—he never discussed a will.
I wobble to my feet and stare at Sloane. Measure-for-measure, he’s looking at me. In disbelief. In anger. With disappointment.
I glance away.
“I love you, Sloane,” Georgie tells him.
Sloane draws in a deep breath. “I love you, too, sweetheart.”
“Send the demon in you back to hell,” she quips.
“Not fucking funny, Georgie,” he snaps.
“Wasn’t trying to be, Sloane. Just trying to tell you about your fucked-up temper in a light-hearted tone.”
“By the way, Cash will be here in a couple of days.”
Cash? Fucking, motherfucking CASH? Her biker brother who I contacted for a hitman for Sloane?
“What the fuck for?” Sloane bursts out the exact question I want to know.
“For Raine. I’ll explain when I get there. Besides, after we told him what happened, he said he was going to talk to Outlaw. There’s a Sean-dude on the club payroll. He’s apparently doing things to girls. Him and his old lady.”
Sloane rubs his eyes. “Fuck them. They’re the dumb motherfuckers who got on Outlaw’s bad side. They have to suffer the consequences.”
“That’s what Cash said.”
“You know, Georgie, you owe me,” Sloane says, calmer than he’s been in the last half hour. “I’m going to have to suffer Cash and Josh. One don’t want the other to outdo them.”
She laughs. “I’ll find a way to say sorry.”
He leers at the phone. “I bet you will.”
“Raine?” I call on a groan.
“What about her?” Georgiana huffs.
“Why is she with you?” I ask.
“She’s my new nanny.” With that, she hangs up.
Jaeger limps to the recliner and drops down with a moan. “Before she gets back, you should clean yourself up, Kiln.”
“No, thank you. She’s seen a motherfucker who’s been beaten before.” I can’t make it to my room, which they don’t need to know.
My days are numbered. Cash is coming, and might bring company with him. Cash is a small problem I can overcome.
Outlaw, though? When he’s fucked over, the MC president takes psycho to a new level.
I can only hope urgent, local, club business will keep him in Washington.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
We didn’t go to a mall, as I thought we would. No. After leaving the bank and handing me three thousand dollars, Georgie headed to an upscale neighborhood, riddled with normal-sized mansions. If a mansion can be classified as normal-sized. Compared to theirs, however, I’d say yes.
A middle-aged woman, dressed as if she’d just stepped off a New York runway, opened the door and greeted Georgie with the double kiss thing I’d only seen on TV. It seemed phony from afar and it seemed phonier up close.
The woman tried to engage Georgie in talk, but she turned to me and introduced me to the lady, who was quickly identified as a personal stylist. When Georgie introduced me as her new nanny, I was sure the other woman’s face would crack from her ferocious frown.
“Is there a problem, Hilda?” Georgie had asked calmly. “If there is, we can go elsewhere.”
Hilda went from snob-extraordinaire to ass-kisser in a second. She’d smiled, stepped aside, and welcomed us into her home as if we were her long-lost besties. While Georgie was examining some very expensive stilettoes, I flipped Hilda off, smiling with glee. She glared at me, and I gave her the fist.
Fucking bitch.
However, I was soon put in my place when Georgie called me over and told me to choose whatever outfits and shoes I liked. When I saw fifteen hundred dollars for a pair of pants, I swallowed. I wouldn’t be able to buy much more. I’m sure Georgie wasn’t meaning to put me in the predicament of having that smug bitch grin with satisfaction at me.
We both knew I couldn’t afford her stuff.
“Problems?” Georgie had inquired, still so sweet. She was missing the hostility. She held up a pair of pretty panties, similar to the ones I’d gotten from her room. They were ice blue, and I loved them. “You should get this set, Raine.”
Narrowing my eyes at her, I give her an oh-fucking-really look?
Hilda had cackled, and my face flamed in mortification. I was ready to leave.
“I spend my own money at malls, but Sloane insists on paying for my stylists.” Georgie twirled her hair, then turned to Hilda. “His aunt, Abby, recommended you. If I tell him you’re being an elitist bitch, he won’t be happy at all. You should be sucking up to her, the same way you do to me. One bill. Remember? If I bring twenty friends over, you’ll get your money.”
“Georgiana,” Hilda began in a conciliatory voice. “It is never my intention to make anyone you bring to me feel bad, my dear. Please? Let me find a way to make it up to you.” She’d looked at me. “Raine, dear, I have a variety of styles that I know you’d love. I’ll even throw in a few extras for you with my compliments. Would you like some champagne? Truffled brioche and grilled cheese?”
Georgie stood a little to the side of Hilda. With the woman focused on sucking up to me, Georgie poked her tongue at her, then winked at me. Humming merrily, she turned her attention back to the collection of shoes, leaving me to deal with Hilda.
After that adventure that left her car filled to the brim, we ended up at a little bistro and ordered a shrimp and feta cheese pizza. Her phone kept buzzing, so there wasn’t much talking between us. I didn’t want to interrupt the texting she was doing. Once we finished eating—she didn’t languish—we got back on the road, where she started asking me questions about Montana. Once she got the needed answers, she called her brother and told him everything, looking to me to fill in what she couldn’t. He promised he’d hit the road the next day.
On the way to her house, she pulled into an upscale drugstore—who knew they had those—and told me to buy whatever I needed, while she waited in the car.
She’d yawned. “Fatigue is finally kicking my ass,” she said.
“We can do this another time.”
“No. I’m fine. You need things.”
I’d hesitated, not knowing what things she meant. I’d survived so long without. Even when we were in an apartment, I bought the cheapest toiletries I could find and stuck to only what I needed.
While I wrestled with what to purchase her phone had rang, taking the matter out of my hands. Something was going on. As she soothed her husband, she sped out of the parki
ng lot and broke all speed limits. At any moment, I expected us to defy the law of gravity and take flight.
When we arrived at the mansion, she didn’t punch in a code, she used a remote control and the gate swung open. She went so fast down the driveway, I just knew we’d wash out and hit a tree. But we didn’t. She swerved to a stop.
“C’mon,” she’d rushed out, opened her door, and ran inside.
Now, by the time I make it down the hallway and to the family room, I find Georgie glaring between her husband and…I gasp at Kiln’s battered face and blood-stained clothes.
His swollen eyes, split lip and huge bruise spreading across his brow makes me hesitate to touch him. It also sweeps aside my anger toward him.
“What happened to you?” I cry, hurrying to him. “Oh my God, look at you.” Cuts above his brow and gashes on his head mar him.
“You promised you wouldn’t beat him up,” Georgie chastises.
“I promised I’d listen to him before I kicked his ass,” Sloane answers without remorse.
“Does anyone have a medical kit?” I grit those words out. “It doesn’t matter what you promised, you had no right to beat him so horrifically, asshole.”
Stiffening, Georgie frowns at me. Sloane’s blue eyes cool, but my temper has gone from zero to thirty in seconds. If I want to torture Kiln for the awful names he’s called me, that’s my business. No one else can do it. Especially a man whose life I need to save. He’s doing his absolute best to insure a painful death. However, Georgie has been nothing but kind to me, so I owe her an explanation for my outburst.
“I’m sorry, Georgie, but it’s the truth. Only an asshole would beat a defenseless man like this.”
Sloane scowls. “Defenseless?” He points his finger at Kiln. “That motherfucker is the last person who’s defenseless.”
“You ambushed me,” Kiln reveals.
I finally give into the urge to touch him. He winces at each place my hand glides over.
“I’d say I was damn defenseless,” Kiln finishes.
“He needs to be seen to,” I insist, caressing his chin.
Phoenix Rising Rock Band: The Series Page 107
