FURIOUS: GODS OF CHAOS MC (BOOK SEVEN)

by Honey Palomino

  “So, it’s fucking stressful, all the waiting. So what? Without a few unexpected obstacles, this wouldn’t be any fun, right? C’mon, Will, you know your boring ass secretly likes to live on the edge.”

  “Actually, that’s not true,” he said, grabbing his gut. “I think I’m getting an ulcer.”

  “Are you calling me a liar, Will?” I asked, raising an eyebrow, another one of my go-to tricks. Sometimes, the most subtle act could speak so loudly.

  “No, I —.”

  “—Good. You don’t want to piss off the hand that feeds you, do you?”

  “No, Bodhi, I —.”

  “—Get out. I’m done with you. I need to go home and make sure my idiot fucking wife hasn’t overdosed on painkillers. God, sometimes I wish she would. It would make life so much easier, you know?”

  Will stood up and buttoned the jacket of his Armani suit. The suit I’d bought him, with money I’d paid him as a bonus when our last real estate deal went through.

  See? I’m generous. Maybe too generous, considering how thankless people are to me these days. But, loyalty comes with a price and I was willing to pay that price.

  Silence also comes with a price, and Will knew that just as much as I did. He owed me. He’s owed me for a long fucking time and I wasn’t about to let him forget it, not for a New York minute.

  He stood staring at me, as if he wanted to say something more.

  “I thought I told you to get the fuck out?” I whispered, my voice a low growl. “You have something more you need to say?”

  “No, Bodhi,” he said, with a heavy, dramatic sigh. “Have a good night.”

  He walked out of the room with slumped shoulders and low energy, the kind of posture that was enough to make me scream. I’d fire him if he wasn’t the most loyal damned employee I’d ever had. He’d gone off to Cornell and gotten a fancy degree before landing right back here in Greenville and working for me for the last two decades.

  I’m pretty certain he secretly hates me, but he’s also got other secrets and keeping them for him keeps him loyal to me.

  It’s a two-way street, you know?

  That’s just how it is and luckily, outside of an occasional act of minor resistance, he follows the rules and stays in line.

  He’d better, if he knows what’s good for him.

  I could ruin him with one phone call, with one word, with one finger pointed his way. In a flash, I could rip away his entire life, that precious perfect family, that huge house on the hill behind my own, his entire fortune and future, all gone in the blink of an eye.

  I yield a lot of power.

  I was born with it — hell, I fucking love it.

  I can walk down the streets of my town and the crowds part to let me go by, the citizens singing my praises on every street corner.

  My inheritance was huge, my family’s legacy even larger, my fortune massive.

  Unfortunately, at home, I have to wield that power a little more forcefully, considering the thankless consideration my wife and daughter show me lately, but that’s okay.

  I make up for it here in my office and out there on the streets that my family built.

  After a few moments, I grabbed my suit jacket and walked out of my office.

  “Pearl, I’m going home.”

  “Have a nice night, Mr. Green.”

  I walked out without a word, leaving her there to lock up as I walked out to the parking lot. Jasper was waiting for me, and as soon as he saw me exit the building, he jumped out of the limo and jogged around to open my door.

  “Evening, Sir,” he bowed.

  I slid into the backseat and watched my town roll by silently. The sun was setting in the horizon and darkness was falling on the Greenville streets. By the time we pulled through the heavy iron gates of my estate, I was in desperate need of a drink.

  I walked up the stairs slowly, dreading the evening ahead. If there was more to do in this Podunk town, I’d go do it. Instead, the best amenities were the ones I’d installed myself.

  My movie room, with my full bar waiting for me…

  Silence and solitude, two more of my favorite things…

  Out at the bars in town, I knew they’d be crowded with people just getting off work from the mill or the few farms we had close by. Those people reeked of sweat and liquor and stupidity, and the further I could stay away from them the better.

  ***

  Tom Cruise hung from a helicopter on the full-size movie screen in front of me, as I sank deeper into the buttery-soft leather recliner, a glass of hundred-year-old scotch in my hand. I’d had three glasses already and the open bottle beckoned me to have more as I watched the movie.

  Tonight, I’d opted to have dinner alone, not even going upstairs to change clothes. I didn’t want to face Marilyn right now. If she was even awake. She was either a sweaty pile of limp limbs languishing away in her memory-foam mattress bed or she was awake, staring at me with accusing eyes.

  She’d grown quite bold lately, talking back to me as if that sort of behavior was something I’d accept. More than once, I’d had to put her firmly back into her place.

  There wasn’t much more I hated more than tears.

  To me, it was a sign of immense weakness, and I had no tolerance for weakness. When I’d married her, she’d been strong and lively. Hell, that’s what had attracted me to her in the first place, even though in the beginning she was still dating Will and was flat as a board on top.

  It didn’t take long for her to look my way. Once she’d agreed to go out with me, I stole her away pretty quickly. She was too beautiful to be partnered up with a nerd like Will, and she knew it. As soon as she told me her favorite smell was the smell of money on our first date, I knew I had her.

  Of course, I didn’t realize that years later she’d be the biggest thorn in my side and I’d avoid her as much as possible, but I suppose even the best relationships end up that way.

  I mean, I never expected to be happy.

  She was a prop that I needed to maintain appearances. Just like this house, like Jasper and the limo, like the balance in my bank accounts.

  Appearances matter. Confidence matters.

  With those two pieces of the puzzle in place, there’s not much someone won’t do for you.

  Molly was another prop.

  She’d been such a beautiful child, all smiles and pretty red curls and she looked just like me, which infuriated her mother, but only made me love her more.

  She was the closest I’d ever come to love, to be honest.

  But now that she was getting older, she was growing more and more distant, and on more than one occasion, I’d caught her staring at me with those accusing eyes her mother was so used to throwing my way.

  I hated it, but I’d done what I needed to do.

  She was getting out of hand. Just like her mother tried to do, and with situations like that, if you let them fester, they could get away from you.

  No, I had to nip that daughterly rebellion right in the bud.

  She made me do it. She knew that.

  If she’d only do better, be more obedient, sweeter and more compliant to my wishes, then I wouldn’t have to hurt her. But she pushes me so far over the edge sometimes, she leaves me with no choice.

  Sometimes, you have to teach your children lessons.

  After the movie ended, I grabbed the bottle and carried it up the stairs and entered the top floor of our home, walking up to the wing that held our bedrooms. I checked in to the bedroom I shared with Marilyn and saw she was doing what she always seemed to be doing since the surgery — sleeping.

  I changed into my pajamas and took another swig off the bottle as I made my way to Molly’s room. The door was closed, but light poured from the crack at the bottom, the faint sound of music pouring through the walls.

  I opened the door slowly and peeked in.

  Molly sat on her bed reading a book, that hideous flat-faced dog that she’d begged me for curled up against her hip. She looked up at
me, unsmiling, obviously not happy to see me.

  “You’re still awake?” I asked, as I sat on the bed.

  “Yes, Daddy,” she replied, setting down the book.

  “How was school?” I asked.

  “Fine,” she replied, avoiding my eyes.

  “Did Ms. Canterbury talk to you?” I asked. I was still pissed some stranger had the nerve to walk into the principal’s office and ask about me, about Molly. I didn’t know who she was, but I’d asked a few people in town to keep a look out for her. Her identity would get back to me soon enough. I wouldn’t be surprised if those assholes from New York were down here poking around in my personal business.

  “Yes, Daddy,” Molly replied, wringing her hands in her lap. She had that huge cast on her arm and I saw there were now several drawings on it.

  “And?”

  “And what, Daddy?”

  “Did you tell her everything is fine? That you fell down the stairs?”

  “Yes, Daddy,” she nodded.

  “Good girl,” I said, leaning over and kissing her forehead. She flinched, but I ignored it. “You should take your bath and get ready for bed, Molly.”

  “Okay, Daddy,” she said, jumping up from the bed as fast as she could and heading for the bathroom attached to her room. Lucky stirred and snorted before immediately falling back asleep. I walked over to her bedroom door and closed it, sliding the lock into place.

  “Molly?” I called to her as she started to close the door to the bathroom.

  “Yes, Daddy?”

  “Leave it unlocked, sweetheart.”

  She took a deep breath and nodded.

  “Yes, Daddy,” she said, closing the door softly.

  I sat back on her bed, looking around her frilly room, with the pink lace curtains and the white lace comforter, her collection of teddy-bears piled in the corner.

  She has it good, I thought to myself, nodding with satisfaction. I took a few more slugs off the bottle in my hand and smiled as I heard the water come on in the bathroom.

  I stood up, my heart beating with excitement, as I headed for the bathroom door. I placed my hand on the doorknob to go inside and paused, taking another drink. I shook my head and turned away, walking out of her room and back to my bedroom and got in bed next to my sleeping wife.

  CHAPTER 14

  FURY

  After splitting up for several hours, I met back up with Grace and Ryder at the bed and breakfast for a late dinner. Dottie had prepared a feast of comfort foods, with everything from chicken and dumplings to mashed potatoes to meatloaf and roasted vegetables. A buffet of desserts — pies and cobblers — were laid out on the sideboard by the bay window of the dining room, tempting us with their promise of huge dopamine surges.

  Dottie left us to eat alone, insisting it was her bed time.

  “Any luck?” Grace asked me.

  “Not really. Seems to be the consensus that people don’t talk about Green at all, and if they do, it’s with hushed tones and fake smiles.”

  “We had a similar experience.”

  “Did you go to the Sheriff’s office?”

  “I was going to, until the woman in line at the post office mentioned the fact that Green is best friends with the sheriff. Evidently, they go way back, friends since high school.”

  “I heard the same thing about the only judge in town, Connor Hawkins. An old man working behind the counter at the Thriftway told me his father had tried to sell some land to a developer from California, but Green stepped in and got the judge to change the zoning on the property so he couldn’t sell. Seemed like he wasn’t too fond of the Green family.”

  “So, more and more it appears he’s got the entire town under his thumb. No wonder nobody will help that little girl,” Ryder said.

  “We drove by his estate this evening,” Grace said. “Huge plantation style estate out on the edge of town, with twelve-foot iron fencing surrounding it. Not a soul to be seen, just a faint light on in the back. Looks like something out of a horror movie, to be honest.”

  “So how do we help Molly?” I asked.

  “I’m still not sure,” Grace said. “Everyone’s protecting him.”

  “I know one thing,” I said. “Men like that, with fortunes and families like that? They don’t get to be that powerful without a pile of skeletons collecting dust in their closets.”

  “You’re right about that,” Grace said.

  “So, what else can we do? We can’t just snatch Molly out of the house.” Ryder said.

  “We have to bring him down another way. We have to play his game,” Grace said.

  “We have to find the skeletons,” I said, an idea forming. “And the only way to do that is go inside his closets.”

  “What are you thinking, Fury?” Ryder asked.

  “Why don’t I try to get in his circle?” I asked. “Ask him for a job, maybe?”

  “What could you do that he would want?” Grace asked.

  “Maybe he needs a bodyguard?”

  “Don’t you think he’d have one if he needed one?”

  I shrugged, a sly smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.

  “Maybe he just doesn’t realize what he needs. Maybe we’ll have to show him. Leave this up to me. I think I can pull this off.”

  “Okay,” Grace said, nodding slowly. “I like it.”

  “I’ll approach him tomorrow,” I said. “In the meantime, hang back and keep your cover going.”

  “I’ve got Riot doing a deep search on his past, too,” Ryder said. “Might uncover some useful information.”

  “Keep me posted,” I said, pushing away from the table. “Are you two in for the night?”

  “Think so,” Grace said.

  “I think I’ll head out for a drink before bed,” I said, pulling on my coat. “Take a walk, clear my head.”

  “Have a good night, Fury,” Ryder said. “And thanks again for coming. I think you might have a good idea there.”

  “We’ll see,” I said. “See you in the morning.”

  I headed out into the cold, crisp night, darkness falling over the town like a heavy blanket. In a quick minute, I found myself standing in the town square, the steeple from the church towering over me, a ghostly, pale contrast to the inky black sky. Slowly, I walked around the edge of the square, my heavy black boots shuffling through the snow.

  All of the shops that lined the block were closed now, tightly locked up, lights off and completely deserted. A little past nine, and everyone had gone home to their families, the day’s business completed hours ago. The only sign of life was a blinking light at the end of the block across the street from the church, a red neon sign letting me know that Jack’s Green Room was still open. A few cars were parked out front and a lone man stood outside smoking a cigarette, hunched into his coat and shivering slightly from the cold.

  I approached slowly, enjoying the feel of the bitter cold filling my lungs. It was refreshing, clean, calming. I’d learned to use the sensations the cold air provided to soothe my anger. It’s taken a long time to get here, but these days, the rage that earned me my name years ago was mostly controllable. I’d learned to recognize that first extra pump of my heart, to realize what it meant when my blood started racing a little faster through my veins, to stop myself and assess the situation with a pause instead of a sudden reaction.

  These days, I took a lot of deep breaths and a lot of walks.

  They both helped.

  There are days now that I laugh when I realize how far I’ve come. Seems like a lifetime ago when I think about the man I once was. Back then, my rage would erupt into a passionate, violent storm at the slightest provocation.

  I was angry at everything and everyone. And my anger lived just under the surface, behind my eyeballs, under my fingernails, waiting just inside my clenched fists to explode in a fury of blows at anyone who dared to cross me or look at me wrong.

  I guess, in reality, I was mostly angry at my folks, but my dead-beat father was nowhere to be fou
nd and Ma was so vacant and empty, there was no way I could lash out at them.

  So, I lashed out at whoever happened to be unlucky enough to fall into my path, whether they truly deserved it or not.

  I stayed like that, lived like that, for a very long time. As soon as I started hanging out at the clubhouse, my anger became very evident. Asher didn’t blink an eye. He accepted it as easily as he accepted all my other flaws. In fact, there were times when I think he admired it, or at least grew to appreciate it.

  I certainly never tried to hide it. I’m well-aware of the way it rolls off me, the way it intimidates people when they first meet me. In fact, I own it, I use it daily — hell, I wear it on my knuckles like a badge.

  It’s so damned convenient sometimes and usually a small grunt will get me out of almost any conversation instantly.

  My anger repels people and I like that.

  Makes it difficult to begin any real relationships, and has definitely destroyed some, too.

  It’s like fire. It burns everything clean. And sometimes, with a rage like this thundering inside of you all the time — a man could use some cleansing.

  So, like I said - deep breaths and long walks keep it manageable.

  Otherwise, I’d have burned myself out long ago.

  I walk into Jack’s Green Room, past the hunched old man who gave me the side-eye as I walked by. Expecting the place to actually be green was my first misconception. As if in silent protest, the entire place was red. Red leather booths, red walls, red curtains, red stools lined up at the bar, lined with red leather upholstery, with red glass lamps hanging from the ceiling.

  Jackie’s description was spot-on. Everything was old, from the smell, to the customers, to the shuffleboard game lining the wall, I felt like I’d stepped back even farther in time. Taking a seat at the end of the bar, I ordered a shot of whiskey and the bartender poured it in front of me, eyeing me intently.

  “Just passing through?” he asked.

  “Visiting for a few days,” I replied, as I threw a ten-dollar bill on the bar.

  “Who are you visiting?” he asked. “Got family in town?”