Currently we’re stabling four horses owned by people that simply don’t have the land to house them, along with five horses that came with the ranch at the time of purchase. The guy who sold me the place intended to sell them, but asked if I wouldn’t mind keeping them on until he found buyers for them. Since I was retaining Ken I told him to leave them, and I’d buy him out for them too. Money wasn’t an issue, so I signed off on whatever he and Ken negotiated, and now I’m the owner of a ranch I have no fucking clue how to run, and five horses I have no idea how to ride. That’s probably something I should get around to in that free time I talked about too.
According to the real estate agent, the house was built in 1902, and it’s still representative of that era with the crown mouldings, timber work, and quality of the structure. I had Trig, an MC brother and construction foreman, come out and survey the place to see if there was any underlying issues I’d need to deal with, but if the way his eyes widened, and he rubbed his hands together as we walked through each room was anything to go by I’d purchased a winner. Trig did a few modifications to the bathrooms, gutting the master bath completely, adding a huge shower and tub, and solid timber bench with his and hers sinks in place of the old vanity. Other than that, there wasn’t much to do to the place. I got it repainted a while back, the wrap-around porch sanded and stained, and painted the bedrooms, but all-in-all the house hasn’t needed much attention.
Because the house has six bedrooms, four baths, two living rooms, a dining room, kitchen, and a games room I was having one of the club whores Beth, come out and clean it once a week. I’m thinking that’s not going to be happening anymore with Priss around. I don’t think she’d appreciate having a half dressed woman traipsing around my house vacuuming, and during breaks in her cleaning routine trying to get me to fuck her. I haven’t gone there, haven’t even considered it, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t try each and every time she’s here. I hope Priss knows how much I love her, because I’m going to have to be the one to clean the fucking thing now.
Jones and Sally follow me through the front door, Priss leading the charge into the front living room. Strategically she couldn’t have picked better if I’d told her where to put them myself. They aren’t here for a tour, so the closer to the exit the better in my book. Her parents take a seat on the loveseat off to the right of the fireplace that’s located on the far wall, with me opting for the only single seat in the room. The high-backed wing chair Brenna demanded was “essential to the space”, whatever the fuck that meant. Priss is looking around nervously making her decision on where to plant her gorgeous ass. There was never a question though, she’ll be sitting her fine ass on my lap whether she likes it or not. I want her close in case shit goes down. After that scene outside I don’t want her ending up collateral damage if her dad loses his shit.
Stretching out my hand I grab hers, and tug her down onto my lap settling her sideways across my thighs. The position has me adapting it in my mind to where she’s across my legs, naked, wet, and begging me to spank her. That thought has my cock hardening against my zipper, and when she realises it Priss lets out a low chuckle only making my situation worse. Fucking hell.
“You feel like you’ve got a problem there, big boy,” she says softly so only I can hear her.
There’s no use denying it.
“I absolutely fucking do, and if you’re not careful your parents will have to wait while I take you upstairs, throw you on my bed, and fuck the shit out of you, so don’t tease Beautiful unless you want me to show you how much I like it when you do.” She lets out a little whimper in response, but thankfully keeps her mouth shut. Because it’s true. If she doesn’t behave I’ll take her upstairs and show her who’s in control of this situation.
Not willing to wait any longer while I maul my woman Jones hisses,
“If you want to take your hands off my daughter long enough for us to have this conversation I’d appreciate it.” That’s not going to happen, so he can get on with it or not his choice.
“Leave them be, honey. Let’s just say what we came here to say, and go from there,” Sally berates her husband gently, then turns a kind smile in our direction.
Jones doesn’t look mollified, but he foregoes his protests, for now. Turning to Priss, urging her to look at him he begins.
“I know you’re angry sweetheart, and I don’t blame you for that, I was livid when I found out what they planned.” Sparing me a glance I can see the question in his eyes, and I return it with a sad shake of my head.
I get him. To explain what happened he has to tell Priss about the other side of our lives. The side I haven’t had the opportunity to tell her about yet. What with Charlee showing up out of the blue, Priss and I getting together in a fucking explosive session in the office at Mo’s, and now this there just wasn’t time. I hope she understands and forgives me, but if she doesn’t that won’t stop me from chasing her to the ends of the Earth if she decides to cut and run.
Surprising all of us Priss laughs loud and long.
“Okay, you guys can stop having your super-secret spy conversation telepathically. I think everyone in the room knows who and what you are, myself included,” she states flippantly punctuating it with a shrug of her shoulder. What the fuck? I don’t have the time or privacy to go into how she knows with her right now, but she can bet her sweet ass we’ll be talking about this later. I’m just glad she doesn’t sound pissed. Leaning down she kisses me square on the mouth, pulling back slightly to say, “Its okay Hunter, I’ve known for a while, and I’m okay with it so stop freaking out.” And just like that, the tension radiating through me releases leaving peace and acceptance in its wake. Priscilla Walker is an amazing woman, and she only keeps getting better and better. This serves as proof of that.
Clearing his throat Jones takes a deep breath before speaking again.
“You found my letter.” Priss obviously knows what he’s talking about because she nods in response. “Good, I wondered if you had. I knew you wouldn’t have been able to resist getting in that safe, you always were interested it when you were younger.” Again she doesn’t reply, she just looks at him waiting for him to continue, and on a sigh he does just that. “When the bureau contacted me saying they needed to fake your mother and my deaths my first response was to tell them to fuck off, and I did. I should’ve known that wouldn’t be the end of it, but because they’d left me alone for so long I foolishly put it to the back of my mind. That was until they sent some agents out to the house, and your mother called me one day telling me I had to come home immediately. They’d waited seven months to play their trump card, knowing when they did I wouldn’t be able to turn them down. The whole fucking thing was orchestrated, they’d done an excellent job of fucking us over, and in the end that’s what it boiled down to; them fucking us over if I didn’t follow their instructions to the letter. Everything from sending us in so deep that we couldn’t get out without it affecting every part of our lives, to making us believe that after the operation was over they would leave us alone, that we would be free and clear was bullshit. Utter bullshit.” Jones grabs his wife’s hand for support taking another breather.
Priss starts shifting on my lap, and while I’d like to think I have my shit under control I don’t. I am just a man after all. My cock throbbing in my jeans is proof of that.
“I don’t understand, what trump card? If you had just come out and told us they wouldn’t have had anything to hold over your head.” Priss asks. It’s a good question. One I’d like to know the answer to myself.
“It wasn’t just about me, sweetheart. Your uncle’s have families too, jobs, people that trust them, our work, who we are would’ve called all that into question, and we just weren’t prepared for that back then.” Priss has a puzzled expression on her face, but I understand all too well what he’s getting at. Six years ago we didn’t have a contingency plan. There was no out that wouldn’t have involved retribution from either the MC, or the bureau if we pulled o
ut suddenly. “All of us had put too many years into the MC, and this town to up sticks and leave, we didn’t want to either. We’d talked about it, before all this went down, and we all came to the same conclusion that regardless of what happened we’d be staying. It didn’t matter if Devil’s Spawn voted against us retaining our positions, we’d weather the storm and stay in Blackwater anyway.”
“I didn’t know, honey. I promise I knew nothing about your dads other life until he told me we had to leave, and he didn’t know if we could come back,” Sally adds with tears in her eyes. If Priss is affected she doesn’t show it. She sits still and quiet in my lap absorbing what she’s being told. I’m fucking proud of her holding it together like this, most people wouldn’t.
“Even though the guys and I had talked about it shit hadn’t been decided. With the deadline the bureau set four days later, there wasn’t much time to consider the alternatives. Even if I did have the time to tell them we wouldn’t have been able to come up with another solution that quickly.” I wasn’t aware there were other agents inside the MC back then, it wasn’t until a few months after Jones and Sally’s “deaths” Damon approached me with the news. Irrespective, I can see where he’s coming from regarding time constraints. An extraction like that would need careful planning to ensure minimal casualties. Not casualties how you’re assuming either. I highly doubt the MC would have actually killed them for being FBI, but outing them to the club would be effective punishment enough. “Having to tell your mother that I was essentially being blackmailed by the FBI who I also happened to work for was one of the worst days of my life, second only to that clusterfuck of a car wreck those assholes staged.”
Whilst Priss hasn’t said anything that’s not stopping her body from speaking for her. She’s getting more rigid in my lap by the minute, any more tightly wound and she’ll snap. It’s a given. People can only take so much before they lose it, and we’re fast approaching her limit. I can feel it.
“Okay, so if I’m hearing you right, you’re telling me that in order to protect yourself and the men I’ve called my uncles my entire life, you agreed to go through with a plot to fake your deaths in one of the most horrific ways someone could die, and leave us with no knowledge you’d done it for six years, and then all of a sudden showing up to what? Reunite? Is that about the gist of it?” The sarcastic tone of her voice brokers no disagreement. If Jones is a smart man he’ll carry on without responding to her. I hope to God for his sake that he’s a smart man, because I pity him if he makes the wrong choice here.
Thoroughly chastised Jones looks down to his boots then up at Priss. When he does I can see the sheen of tears in his eyes, and I know that she’s gotten to him. Albeit the situation was bad for him, that he was forced to make an almost impossible choice, he needs to understand that it was even harder on her.
“I’m not going to excuse what I did, sweetheart. The whole situation was fucked up, but I made a choice, and even though I know that choice gutted you and your sister it was the best one out of a bad bunch at the time.”
“Fuck you,” Priss snaps. “Don’t presume to know what we went through. You have no fucking idea what you two did to that innocent eleven-year-old girl. Forget about me, at the end of the day I was an adult, I had the maturity to find a way to cope, Tilly was just a kid. You left her alone in the world with only me to rely on, and I had no clue what I was doing half the time,” not stopping to take a breath she goes on. “It wasn’t until Hunter and some of the other guys at the club started pitching in, taking some of the other weights off my shoulders that I had the chance to try and make heads or tails out of how to raise an adolescent. So before you say you’re sorry again you need to understand that your sorry means shit to me, and it probably will mean even less than that to Tilly.”
With that said Priss slumps back into my body wrapping her arms around my shoulders, burying her head in the crook of my neck. I can feel the tears run down my neck, pooling in the hollow of my throat, but that’s the only indication she’s crying. Otherwise she’s completely silent in her grief. Offering comfort the only way I know how, I run my nose up and down her temple sporadically stopping to place a kiss in its path. Less than a minute later a shiver wracks her body. She’s trying to get a handle on it, and her strength in being able to do that is just another way she’s made me proud as fuck of her today. Sighing heavily I don’t let her go, but I do stop my ministrations to say,
“How about we move this along, it’s been a long day, and I know my woman is going to want to be getting to her sister sooner rather than later.”
“That’s one of the things we need to talk about,” Jones replies with an element of hostility in his voice.
“Yeah, well talk then.” I may be known for my infinite patience in volatile situations, but this is getting fucking ridiculous. Beating around the bush isn’t his style, and I can see he wants to say something I just don’t get why he hasn’t spit it out yet. It’s not like him to hold back, and that has me concerned.
“This isn’t the way I wanted to do this, I don’t want this shit to be any harder than it has to be, and you’re not gonna like what I have to say next, so I’m just gonna spit it out.” Huffing out a breath the man looks like this is going to hurt him as much as Priss. “We’re moving back to Blackwater that goes without saying, but when we do we want Tilly back living with us full-time.”
Say fucking what? Shooting out of my lap faster than I can catch her Priss strides over to her dad slapping him firmly across the face. The sound reverberates around the mostly empty, undecorated living room, and her mom stares on in shock. I’ll give the man credit, he doesn’t even flinch at the hit, but he does at her next words.
“If you think for two seconds you’re going to coming waltzing back in here, and take my sister from me, you’ve got another thing coming. You are aware she turns eighteen in three weeks aren’t you?” They don’t answer, it’s obvious that it was rhetorical. “How about you come back then, and you can ask her yourself if she wants to go with you or not. I can assure you you’re not going to get the answer you’re expecting.” Eyeing her mom and dad cautiously Priss sucks in a huge gasp of air and, on the exhale breathes out, “Oh my God. That’s why you’re here isn’t it? You know you’ve got no control over her after her birthday, so you timed it this way.”
They wouldn’t, would they? Glancing around the room I take in the scene, and realise in a heartbeat they definitely would, and they have done exactly that. Jesus Christ, these two have to be the dumbest motherfuckers on the planet to try this shit with me standing right in front of them.
“Priss better be wrong motherfucker, because if that’s why you’re here you can get the fuck out. Not just out of my house, but out of Blackwater altogether. You try and take that girl from her sister, from me, I’ll hunt you down like the fucking dog you are.”
“Both of you need to calm down that was pure coincidence, it looks bad but I swear we didn’t plan it like that,” Jones rushes out. “We only got the news a week ago that the threat against the MC was neutralised, and we were free to leave seclusion.” With a snarl he says, “You think being locked away from the only family we have was a fucking picnic? You don’t think we knew the risk we were taking when we left, that there was a good chance that when we came back our daughters wouldn’t want anything to do with us anymore? Of course I fucking knew, but it was a choice between that or the possibility that the whole MC would be wiped out. Families included, because of a crooked fucking agent that compromised the whole operation. Jesus Tank, he had my name. It was only a matter of time before he found out the others. Yours too.”
“Have you got a name, or am I just supposed to take you at your word? Because right about now that isn’t worth a whole hell of a lot, is it?” Calling his bluff is a dick move, but if what he’s saying is true it casts a new light on the decision he made.
Jones nods at me solemnly fisting his hands by his sides trying to control the rage that’s creeping up his n
eck staining his skin red.
“I never met the guy, my job was just to gather Intel while another agent did the legwork. My cover was blown, and it wasn’t safe for me to be caught on the streets staking out some assholes house. Worse still, the guy was a fucking veteran. Nearly twenty years on the job, and he all of a sudden turns? I’m not buying it there’s more to it than that call it gut instinct, but somethings telling me eliminating him didn’t solve our problem completely. Thing is, this guy confessed, he admitted to feeding information to several criminal associates, and swore till he was blue in the face that mine was the only name he knew. Don’t know if I believe that either, but the asshole is gone now, so I guess we’ll never know.”
I notice he still didn’t answer my question.
“Most of the time the why is more important than the who, or the what. If you don’t believe the threat is eliminated why are you here?” It doesn’t make sense. Jones isn’t a stupid guy, far from it. He tested higher than any of us on the intellectual aptitude test we were all required to take on entering the FBI, and with his background in negotiations and information he was a valuable member of the team. I believe him, if he says there’s an outstanding complication, then there is.
He scrubs a frustrated hand through his hair answering in a subdued tone.
“I don’t like it, and I don’t fucking agree with their decision to close the case, but then again I don’t agree with most of how they’ve handled this shit. I figure its best to be here where I can keep an eye out instead of locked away in a fucking house somewhere trying to keep tabs on everyone from afar. If all hell breaks loose then you’ll need an extra pair of hands, the Intel I’ve got stored on a flash drive somewhere safe wouldn’t hurt the cause either.”
Saviour: A Devil's Spawn MC Novel (Savior Book 3) Page 20
