by Vivian Gray
Jet glanced at Brass, who nodded. “Better than what I’ve got,” Brass said.
Jet turned back to Bree. “Do the best you can, okay? I know it may not be possible. It’s just that if it is, it needs to be.”
She nodded again, this time with more confidence. “I’ll do everything I can.”
“That’s all I can ask.” He wanted to ask a hell of a lot more, but it was true; she could only do as much as she could. It wasn’t fair or right to tell her to fucking figure it out. One of the guys, maybe; not his pregnant girlfriend. “Brass, East, make sure she has everything she needs.” He laughed a little. “Bree, anything you know you need?”
She looked up at the ceiling for a moment, considering. “Access to your accounts, I guess. Obviously, someone can watch me while I look over things. It would be best to have someone there anyway because I’m sure I’ll have questions.” She went quiet for a moment. “Jet, real question though. Are you okay with me seeing – well, all the club financials?”
He wished to hell she hadn’t asked that question in front of the men who he ordered around. For all that Bree had been around so much in the last few months, she hadn’t seen very much of the darker elements of the business. She’d stayed close to the club, for the most part, hanging out with Trisha and Caroline and mostly just going to school and coming back to do homework. He’d talked her out of going to both jobs; at first, it was because he wanted her in his bed more often, but after, it was because she’d been so sick in the first weeks of being pregnant.
But she still hadn’t seen much of the businesses the club used to stay fiscally solvent on the dark side of the law. Most of them were pretty uneventful, as these things went. Money lending wasn’t illegal; buyer beware. Selling hooch was illegal, but no one really cared. Prostitution, again, was a sin that no one minded, especially since the girls who spent time at the club weren’t drugged or forced to stay there.
Once Bree knew what was going on in the club, though, that would make her – well, more of a liability. Right now, she was a pretty piece of ass, knocked up, and maybe a threat if someone decided to grab her to get his attention. That shit only happened in superhero movies. And the cops mostly wouldn’t give a shit about the War Choppers, even if she did try to go to them and try to offer evidence or something.
But mostly wasn’t the same as not at all, and that was a thing he needed to be aware of.
He didn’t look at the other men. They would have seen it as weakness, and she would have seen it as mistrust. He needed to be confident and calm.
“Of course,” he said, as if it was the stupidest question he’d been asked all day.
“I need a laptop,” she said, “and whatever books I can look at right now.”
***
Jet had assumed that whatever Bree was doing would take a while, but after a few minutes talking to Brass and tapping at the laptop he brought her, she was sitting back, her hand over her mouth.
“What’s up?”
“They used the money to buy cryptocurrencies. It’s not traceable. I can see that they got purchased, but after that, there’s nothing.”
Jet cursed. “Nothing at all?” He knew there was nothing, but somehow just knowing it wasn’t enough.
“Not a goddamn thing. I mean, maybe someone could hack it and figure it out, but I sure as hell can’t.”
“So what happens now?”
Bree shrugged, her face a little downcast. “Change all your passwords, change everyone’s access, restrict it all down to bare essentials. Isolate the potential problems. But honestly? Only an idiot would keep pulling money after something like this. This is the heist, you know? Someone might get greedy, and you’ll catch them like that, but otherwise... I don’t think there’s much you can do without finding someone with the kind of tech that can chase down blockchain.” She looked up at Jet, and the nervousness in her eyes made him feel – well, more than he wanted to. “I’m sorry, Jet.”
He shook his head. “You did what you could, babe, and that’s all I asked for. It’s okay. I swear. Alright?”
She nodded, but he doubted that she meant it.
He pulled her into his side, and she melted into him just a little. “Brass, take her suggestions. Let me know if things keep happening. Keep looking for signs that Kane or the Runners were involved. Other than that – just keep doing what we’re doing. We’ll make up the cash, and we’ll figure out what the hell is going on.”
Brass nodded, and he and the others left the club.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.” She sounded so nervous, the poor girl.
“I promise, babe. I promise it’s okay.”
It wasn’t okay, of course it wasn’t, but it wasn’t her fault that things weren’t okay. She hadn’t done a goddamn thing wrong.
But Kane. Kane was at the bottom of this. Why the Red Runners had decided to make a move now, he had no idea, but they had. He’d figure it out. A few months ago, he might have stepped aside, let Kane take whatever he wanted. But now? Now he had a girl and a baby to take care of. At the bare minimum, he had to make sure that he could step aside smoothly, letting Brass or East take over operations. Letting the area interrupt into a territory war was unacceptable.
“I’ve got you, babe,” he said, not for the first time that day. “I’ve got you.”
Chapter Twelve
Bree kept a hand on her belly as she stood up from her seat in the lecture hall. She wasn’t huge yet, at six months along, but she was very glad that she was only a couple weeks out from finals. Getting to and from class was harder than it had been; she was tired, she was swollen, and the steadily increasing heat from summer meant that she wanted to nap more than she wanted to be awake when she wasn’t huge.
Cat had dropped the econ class, which was really pretty fine with Bree. After Brick had picked up Bree’s stuff at the apartment, she hadn’t heard a thing from Cat. Maybe it was better that way? The more distance she gained from Cat, the easier it was to look back and realize that Cat had never really treated her like a friend.
Granted, it wasn’t like Bree was swimming in popularity now, but Trish and the girls had gotten a million kinds of excited about planning a baby shower, and – well, Cat had always been about partying and schemes and guys for ages. That lifestyle wouldn’t have fit in well with being a new mom. Maybe it was better they just went their separate ways now.
She hiked her backpack up onto her shoulder and went outside. Jet was picking her up after class; they were heading somewhere, he said, but he’d insisted on making the destination a surprise. She’d had to roll her eyes and laugh.
The sun was shining, though, and there was a nice breeze. She leaned up against the brick of the building and enjoyed the heat radiating into her back. It felt good, like spring pretty much always did. Something new and fresh, right around the corner, promising a brand new beginning.
“Well isn’t this a sight to see?”
Bree opened her eyes, and fear curled through her in a rush. A man was standing in front of her in leather and denim, and he stood out like a sore thumb. He was grinning at her like he knew who she was, but she didn’t recognize him at all.
“Not a virgin now, are you?” The man leered at her, and that was when she recognized him. He’d been in the club the night Jet had bought her, and he had been the one engaged in a bidding war. Kane.
“What do you want?” She’d tried to make her voice sassy and confident, but she couldn’t pull it off. She sounded weak and afraid, and she hated it.
Kane laughed at her, stepping in closer. She wanted to run, but her body seemed frozen in place. When he took another step, he put an arm next to her head, his body angled in such a way that both directions for escape were closed off. Her heart started to throb in her chest as fear tore through her. Jet hadn’t talked much about the different threats the Choppers faced, but Kane’s name had come up more than once. It had been clear that Jet thought Kane and his Red Runners were responsible for the theft from th
e clubhouse.
Nothing more had been stolen, but that certainly hadn’t been enough to calm everyone’s nerves. The theft wasn’t enough to really destroy club operations in any way, but it was big enough to send a message. Someone was out there; someone was watching them.
Someone was coming.
Kane was huge, as big as Jet, and the terror was so big that Bree thought throwing up was in her near future. Kane lifted one of his big hands and stroked down Bree’s cheek. She let out a little cry and tried to lean away from him, but there was nowhere to go but into his other arm.
“Stop it,” she managed to choke out. “I want to go.”
Kane laughed again. “I wanted to be the first one to tear open that precious cunt of yours,” he replied. “But we don’t always get what we want, do we?” His fingers stroked down her cheek, her neck, the side of her breast, and cupped her stomach. “You certainly didn’t waste time, did you? Do you think he knocked you up that first night? Or did you let him poke you more than once.” He leaned in, and she wanted his breath to be rancid, like a movie villain. Instead, he was minty fresh, and the tightness in her throat got worse. She swallowed hard against the sickness rising in her. “Or was it even his.”
She screamed in his face, shoving at him, but it was like pushing the brick wall at her back. He didn’t go anywhere. She looked frantically from side to side, but she couldn’t see anyone; if anyone had heard her, they weren’t here. What was it they always said? Scream fire, not help, because humans suck or something.
He caught her wrists and slammed them up above her head so hard that she yelped, the brick scraping her skin.
“Little slut likes to fight,” he said, almost to himself. “That’s good. I like fighters the best.” His free hand traced down her stomach again, hitting the lower curve, and this time she was going to be sick, there wasn’t any way to stop it—
And then the weight of him was gone, and she had to catch herself to avoid falling right on her face. She didn’t care, at that moment, how he was gone. The fact that he was felt like a miracle. But the sudden release of tension made another thing impossible – there was no way to stop the nausea rising in her. She managed to bend over, turning to the side to avoid spattering her shoes, bracing on the wall to keep from falling over as her knees shook.
When she could focus on the world outside of her own head again, Bree heard the ugly sounds of fists hitting flesh. She forced herself to look up. It was Jet; Jet had appeared out of nowhere and yanked Kane off her. The two men were fighting furiously; they had both landed a few good blows, it looked like, but Jet had Kane by his leather and shoved him back, hard.
“Keep your hands off my woman, my baby, and every other goddamn thing that’s mine,” Jet snarled out.
Kane spat out a mouthful of blood. “They’re only yours until I take them away,” he said, and his tone was ominous. Jet braced for another run, but Kane gave a jerky little nod, then turned and walked away.
Bree hurried over, stepping into Jet’s arms. He wrapped one around her, pulling her in tight, but his gaze didn’t shift until Kane had straddled his motorcycle and hit the throttle. Bree, for her part, tried to keep her face angled down and away; her mouth tasted awful, and she doubted her breath smelled better.
“What happened,” Jet asked, his voice frighteningly level.
“He came out of nowhere,” Bree said, and the fear finally turned into tears. “I was waiting for you, and he pinned me up against the wall. He was saying disgusting things, touching me. I couldn’t get away, Jet, I tried, I promise—”
“Hey,” he said, stroking her hair. “Hey. What happened was that son of a bitch’s fault, not yours, hear me? He’s the one who did this. And he’ll pay for it.”
She understood the need for retribution, but right now, it made her stomach flip again. “I just want to do whatever it is you had planned, okay? I just want to... get out of here. Enjoy your surprise.”
He looked down at her then, and she could feel the weight of his gaze. She stepped away, pulling a water bottle out of her backpack and rinsing out her mouth. Everything tasted awful, but that helped some. It took most of the bottle before she could breathe without tasting the sickness all over again.
When she turned back to Jet, he was still watching her carefully. She put on a smile like she put on a shirt in the morning. “Please? I really don’t want to let this ruin things.”
“It wouldn’t ruin them,” he said, and she had never heard his voice this soft. It made happiness spread through her like heat. “It would just mean we did it another day.”
“I want to do it this day, whatever it is. Well… If it means eating a huge meal, maybe not. Maybe not a fancy dinner.” She hoped the quip would make him laugh, but there wasn’t a change in his expression. “Jet. Really. I’m fine.”
He nodded then. “Okay. If you’re fine, you’re fine.” He didn’t sound like he believed her any more than she believed herself, but that was okay.
“Ready to go?”
He’d brought a car instead of his motorcycle; she was too big to be comfortable on the back of the bike anymore. He studied her for one more moment before nodding. She slid into the passenger’s seat while he took the wheel. She tried very hard to look calm, collected, and confident that everything was going to be okay.
There was something about Kane though. Something about the way he’d stood over her, glowering. There was nothing safe about it, and she was absolutely not okay.
She just didn’t know what in the world to do with all of that.
***
When Jet pulled the car into a cul-de-sac of townhouses, Bree glanced at him, confused. He found a spot in front of a house with an Open House sign in front of it.
“Come on,” he said, putting the car in park and stepping out.
Bree followed him after a moment. He had his hand outstretched, and after a moment, she fit her fingers into his. She had a crazy idea that she knew what was going on, but she wasn’t sure what to do about it.
The house was really nice. The outside was brick, and there were small flower patches on either side of the steps up to the front door. The door was open and led into a neat, well-decorated hallway. She was a little numb as he led her through a nice living room and a well-lit dining room. The kitchen was located towards the back of the house and led out into a small but comfortable looking yard. A staircase led up to a second floor with two bedrooms and a small bathroom; downstairs there was a finished basement and another half bath.
There was a realtor with perfect hair and fashionable makeup. She shook both their hands and didn’t cast a glance at Bree’s pregnant belly or Jet’s leather kutte. Jet took some paperwork from the woman, and they walked back out to the car.
Bree was still more than a little stunned as she buckled up her seatbelt. Jet settled down next to her, and he was grinning like a little kid. “So what did you think?”
She rejected four different responses before she got to, “I’m not sure why that happened.”
She saw Jet rock back a little, clearly surprised. Wounded? Maybe. “You – I thought you’d like it.”
Bree put her head in her hands and tried to breathe. “Can we go back to your place? We need to talk about this stuff.” She laughed just a little. “I don’t think I’m okay.”
Kindly, he didn’t say he’d told her so.
Chapter Thirteen
Jet battled with anger the entire drive back to the club and the apartment. He wasn’t sure who he was more mad at. Bree, for not wanting this thing he’d tried to give her? Himself for being such an idiot that he’d thought she’d want it, or him, at all? Kane, for terrifying the girl? Kane, for trying to touch what was Jet’s? Kane, for existing?
None of this was helpful. He didn’t know why Bree hadn’t liked the house. He’d looked at all the pictures online, and he was sure that this was any woman’s dream house. It looked like every magazine he’d ever seen. She would be happy there, with him or without him. He had
enough money set aside for the down payment, and the mortgage would be doable without too much trouble. It even had the basement downstairs that could be converted into an office if she wanted to work from home.
But she was silent all the way back. And there was no way he was being fair. The thing with Kane had shaken her up – of course it did – and he shouldn’t have taken her there. She was clearly a mess, and he should have taken her home and put her to bed. That was how this was supposed to go.
His knuckles were white on the steering wheel. He tried to relax them, but no dice. This was why he hated cars. Inside a car, he felt trapped. On his bike, he could kick up the throttle, feel the wind, know that it was just him and an engine against gravity. Cars were safe. Cars were a waste of energy. There wasn’t any power to them at all.
