“It’s okay,” I smile as I watch them. Walking over to the television, I turn on one of the cartoon channels. “Can I get you guys anything to drink?”
They all politely decline but make their way into my living space, the women sitting, with the kids, and the men standing, still taking in my expensive San Francisco home.
It’s worth at least five times what our home in Shasta was, maybe even more. I wait for them to speak, knowing that they aren’t here for just a friendly little chat.
“How you doin’?” MadDog finally asks.
“I’m fine,” I admit on a nod.
“You left three years ago and never came back. We walk into the hospital room, your face is bruised, and the tension between you and Soar is thick enough to cut with a knife. Then we find out you’re like an heiress. None of us knew, not even Colleen, and she’s known you since you were eighteen,” Mary-Anne says, cutting to the chase.
“Sloane didn’t want anybody to know. He doesn’t like his family. They’ve had issues, except for his little brother Kipling. He’s the only reason Sloane even has contact with his parents. I just found out that Sloane’s childhood was rough. He refuses to talk to me about it,” I say, spilling everything to these people—these people that I know love Sloane whole heartedly and without reservation.
“What about you?” MadDog asks.
“My family was angry when I ran away with Sloane. I was eighteen when we were married. I had just graduated high school and was head-over-heels in love. I didn’t know anything about the club life. As time went on, I realized what he was doing, his involvement, it wasn’t just a rebellious thing. He was the rebel, the bad boy, and I thought he’d change and want to take over his father’s company eventually. As the years went on, I realized, that wasn’t what happened, or that it was ever going to happen,” I explain as I walk over to the windows, unable to look at these people, these genuine people that I’d been lying to for fifteen years.
“Then the women?” Cleo guesses. I nod as I try not to cry.
“He admitted yesterday that he’d been with other women from the beginning. The fifteen-year-old girl inside of me just broke. It’s stupid of me,” I choke.
“What is?” MadDog asks, his voice thick.
If I look at him, knowing he’s gazing at me with pity in his eyes, I’ll surely break down.
“Loving him the way I do, the way I always have. Allowing him to continue to screw around on me like that. Wanting a baby, knowing the man I love doesn’t want to give me that. I mean, he’s just offered it to me, his concessions for getting me back for whatever reason. But he doesn’t want it, not really. The man who hit me, he offered me that, a family. Sloane came barreling back into my life, and I broke up with the other guy. He got angry,” I shrug.
“No matter how angry, he shouldn’t have hurt you,” Torch growls.
“I know. Sloane or no Sloane, I wasn’t going to marry Graham. But his offer of a family, at my age, it was tempting, even though I’m not attracted to him,” I admit, watching a few cars pass by my back street. “I’m stupid to complain. Look at all that I have,” I say, waving my hand around before I turn to face them. “I have anything I could ever want. Money is no object.”
“Money doesn’t buy happiness,” Mary-Anne says, her voice soft and quiet.
She was with a successful businessman hoping for security before she met MadDog, and she knows firsthand that money indeed does not buy happiness. A lesson that is sometimes never learned, and other times is a hard lesson to learn.
“I know,” I murmur.
“So what happens now? With his father’s company?” Torch asks, thankfully switching the topic.
“The lawyer will tell us what his will says. I doubt Kalli, his wife, knows what the will says. These men, they’re all very secretive,” I laugh softly. “The plan was that Kipling would take over, after he finished school at Harvard and probably worked for him a while. My guess is that the vice president will take over until Kipling is ready, but who knows.”
“No matter what happens, we want you to know, Genny, that we’re here for you. You’re still family, no matter what,” Mary-Anne says, giving me a sad smile.
“I appreciate that,” I murmur. “I don’t know when the funeral will be, but I should know by the end of today. I can let you all know,” I offer.
“Okay, sounds good, darlin’,” MadDog says solemnly.
“Sure wish you’d come home,” Mary-Anne whispers as she envelops me in a hug.
“Thank you,” I mutter.
The group leaves a few minutes later, after the men are assured that I’m not too emotional to drive on my own. I feel stupid for spilling everything that I just did to them. It was as if the words just flowed and I couldn’t stop myself. Once everything was out, though, it felt relieving.
Now they know pretty much everything, there’s nothing else to hide anymore from them. I really do like them. I don’t know Torch well, but MadDog is not the man he was when I met him.
Mary-Anne has grounded him, and he’s become a wonderful husband and father, proving that you can teach an old dog new tricks. I wish I could have faith that Sloane could truly change, but I don’t think it’s possible.
Sliding into the front seat of my car, I start my engine. After opening the garage door, I head toward the Huntington manor. The lawyer should arrive within the hour, and I want to make sure that both Kalli and Kip are okay.
I haven’t heard a word from Sloane, so as much as I want to believe that he’ll be here for his mother and brother, I’m not planning on holding my breath.
I’m going to be there for my mother and brother-in-law, but at this point, I think I need to let Sloane go. I’ll never be what he needs. After twenty years, that is painfully obvious.
“Imogen?” Kip’s voice calls out as he knocks on my car window, making me jump. I didn’t realize I was already here, driving the last few miles in a complete fog.
“Sorry,” I call out.
I wipe the tears from beneath my eyes and gather my purse as Kip opens my door for me, ever the gentleman.
He looks to the seat next to me and I watch his shoulders deflate, “Sloane didn’t come with you?”
“He had to meet with his probation officer this morning,” I explain. Kip nods as he slides his arm around my shoulders. I, in turn, slide my own arm around his waist.
“How was last night?”
“Mom drank until she passed out while she cried,” he admits. It kills me.
“Anytime you want to come over to my place, you just come right on over,” I say, resting my head on his shoulder.
“It’s funny. Sure, he was my dad, but he wasn’t really around much. I mean, he was around more for me than Sloane I think, but it still wasn’t often. It doesn’t seem real yet,” he murmurs as we climb the steps.
“It will when you pick up the phone to call him, excited to tell him something. It’ll hit you then,” I whisper. He makes a noise in the back of his throat before he clears it.
“Yeah.”
Once we’re inside of the house, we separate, and I walk straight to the kitchen to make something for Kalli to eat and drink. Today is going to be another long day, and she’s no doubt hungover as shit.
SOAR
“You will be tested each time you’re scheduled to come to me. And I will come to you randomly to check on you. I don’t want to hear of you getting pulled over again,” Randall Lundorff, my parole officer, rambles, sounding bored as fuck with his speech.
It’s the same speech he gives all of us, just leaving one set of shackles for another.
“Do I have to stay in the county?” I ask.
“You have to stay in the state, and I would prefer if you stay in the county. Where else would you go?” he asks warily, his eyes narrowed on me, though he hasn’t asked me why I wasn’t in my county last night when I was pulled over.
“My wife and I are separated and currently living apart. We’re trying to work things out. Sh
e lives in Frisco,” I state. He nods.
“I’ll give you permission to go from her place to yours, but I want all of her information,” he murmurs, shoving a piece of paper and pen at me.
I write down Imogen’s name, address, and phone number. I also give him the information for my mother’s place.
“Who’s this?” he asks after I give him the paper back.
“My father died last night of a heart attack, that’s my mother’s information. I’ll probably be at her place often as well,” I shrug.
“Okay. Don’t get into any trouble. One toe gets out of line, and I can toss your ass right back in your cell. You can finish out your two-years there faster than you can say Bob’s your uncle,” he grunts.
“Yes, sir,” I grind out.
I leave with a stack of paperwork, and what dignity I have left, before rushing to my bike. I don’t typically use my car, unless it’s late at night, wet, or snowing.
I’m already late for the meeting with the lawyer, but hopefully Kip can fill me in when I get there. Then I have some talking to do with Imogen.
I try not to think about last night. About how haunted and sad her eyes looked when I walked into her house. About how silently she made her way upstairs and stripped naked. She looked resigned, as if her body was all I wanted and she was just going to give it to me.
Granted, it was a draining evening, but I couldn’t fuck her like that. Even all those times she was pissed at me and I talked my way back between her legs, she was always white fucking hot for me.
I don’t want to break her, but maybe I have. She’s been so fucking strong all these years, putting up with me and apparently giving up on her dream of children, something I didn’t even realize she’d wanted that badly. I feel like a fucking asshole.
Once I pull over for gas, I check my phone and am surprised to see that Torch has called me. I shove the gas nozzle into my tank and walk away, calling him back.
“You on your way to the city?” he grunts immediately after the second ring.
“Yeah, just stopped off for gas, then heading to my parents. I need to meet with you guys later today.”
“About what?” he questions.
“Something that happened, need to talk to you all,” I inform.
He grunts an okay, before he continues “Normally, I could give a fuck what a brother does with his woman. That’s their shit, and god knows I have my own fucking shit going on. But I gotta tell you, if you aren’t going to do right by your woman you need to let her go,” he murmurs. I’m frozen to my spot in shock.
“Excuse me?”
“Never really knew your woman. Thought she was always some stuck-up cunt who thought she was better than everyone and spread her bitterness around like fucking confetti. I only let Cleo stay with her because we went together on that run before you went in, and it was better than the clubhouse for her without me around at the time,” he explains.
I wonder what the fuck he’s going to say next. What he’s saying now is not the man I’ve come to know as Torch. “She deserves better than your selfish ass,” he states.
I can’t hide the shock on my face, so I’m glad he’s not saying this shit in front of me.
My anger rises before I grind out my next words, “Yeah, but I’m what she’s got.”
“Don’t you think you’ve played with her long enough?” he asks, his voice deep and serious, even and not a bit angry.
“She’s mine.”
“I don’t think you understand the meaning of a woman being yours, brother,” he rumbles.
“Yeah? Why don’t you explain that shit to me then,” I growl.
“You’re almost forty years old. Not something I should have to teach you at this age. I will say, when a woman is yours, no other woman compares. Now, if you’re both into playing with other people, that’s a totally different thing; but she doesn’t want to play, and you’re off doin’ shit behind her back. A woman’s yours, you kill yourself giving her the life she deserves, whatever that looks like. Kids, white picket fenced house, whateverthefuck that looks like, you give to her.”
“So what? I let her go, I divorce her and let another man have my woman?” I ask.
“You still don’t get it, brother,” he sighs. “Time to grow the fuck up, Soar. Grow up or let her go.”
The line goes dead, and I grip my phone, hearing it pop in my hand.
I’ll be damned if I let my woman go. I’m a fuck up, and I’ve fucked up, but never again.
She’s mine. I’ll prove that I’m a man, and that I’m all the man she needs. I’ll fucking make her so goddamn happy that nobody, not one single person will question the love I have for her.
No other man touches her. She wants kids and a white picket fence, I’m going to be the man who gives it to her. Not some other fuck, and especially not some fucking pansy in our parents shitty assed social circle. And definitely not Graham.
Chapter Eleven
IMOGEN
The attorney walks out of the living room, leaving us sitting in the receiving room in shock. Sloane McKinley Huntington, II was an asshole when he was alive, but a major fucking dick in death.
Kipling is the first to speak after the attorney closes the front door behind him.
“Dad was a piece of shit,” he announces. I gasp and slide my eyes over to Kalli.
She nods before she speaks, “Always was, always will be.”
The house has to be sold within a month. Kalli isn’t going to get half of the estate, a loophole in their pre-nup that was written almost forty years ago. Instead, she’ll get a stipend, monthly allowance from the estate.
The Huntington Estate will not be passed down to Kipling or Sloane. Instead, they’ll only receive what is already in their trusts and not a penny more. Kipling won’t even have access to his until his twenty-fifth birthday.
Sloane II’s money will all stay in the business, and Kalli’s stipend will only flow freely as long as the business does well. If the business fails, she’ll get nothing.
As for the remainder of the estate, Sloane II, and his liquid assets, those will go to his other children, to be divided amongst evenly. Children nobody even knew existed, especially not Kalli.
Granted, there are six of them, so their money won’t be even close to what Kipling and Sloane already have, but that’s beside the point.
He had a whole life that nobody knew about, a secret life, and it’s then that I realize just how much Sloane is like his own father, a man he despises.
“How could he? And he knew. It wasn’t like it was a surprise to him, he’s always known,” Kip says.
“Because, darling, he was a Huntington and Huntington’s do what they want, when they want,” Kalli announces before she stands and walks away.
“He’s forcing us to sell the house. Who does that?” Kip asks. I wrap my arm around his shoulders and hold him.
“I’m so sorry, Kippy,” I whisper.
“No wonder Sloane always hated him. I didn’t understand it, not until now. I have siblings, six of them,” he murmurs.
“Do you want to try and find them?”
“Never. It’s not their fault, but no. I never want to know who they are,” he says as he stands. “Sorry, Genny, I gotta go.”
I nod and watch him race out of the house, worried that he’ll get into an accident, but knowing him well enough to know that he needs the space.
“Where is everyone?” Sloane asks. My spine straightens.
Closing my eyes for just a second, I rise before I reopen them and make my way over to him. He’s standing in a pair of jeans that hug his thighs perfectly, a black shirt, his cut, and his heavy black boots.
I shiver at the sight of him, his blond hair messy from his helmet. I’ll never not be attracted to my husband. If nothing else, I’ll always physically want him.
From across the room, I explain to him what happened, and I watch as his face goes from shock to anger.
“That piece of shit,” he growls. “W
here’s Kip? Is he okay?” he asks. This is one of the reasons that I’ve always loved him, his adoration of his little brother.
“He’s shaken. He took off, needing some space,” I whisper. He nods. “How do you feel?”
“I’m not surprised,” he shrugs. “I walked in on him more than once fucking someone else.”
I suck in a breath in surprise, but he looks as if it’s no big deal. That makes my heart ache. No wonder he never had a problem stepping out on me, his father has always done it. I turn away from him, trying to tamp down my emotions, but they come bubbling to the top.
“Imogen,” he whispers as his heat presses against my back.
His arms wrap around me, one around my chest the other around my waist. I feel his lips touch the side of my neck before he speaks.
“How are you doing, baby?” he asks.
“I’m tired,” I admit.
“Sucks my dad was a giant fucking dick, but sunshine, it’s not news to me. I just want to take you out of this city and go back to our lives,” he states, his voice vibrating against my skin. “Start over.”
I close my eyes and inhale deeply, smelling him, his scent another thing that drives me insane about the man. “I don’t think we can start over,” I murmur.
“Not letting you go, sunshine,” he rasps. “I’ll change.”
I spin around in his arms and look up at him in surprise. He looks completely serious, and I wonder if it’s true, if he really will change. I feel stupid for hoping, so damn stupid, but I can’t help myself.
“Is it possible? Or are you just going to hide it better?” I ask. I want the truth. Since he’s been being so honest with me lately, I expect it.
“Imogen.”
“I’m serious, Sloane. I don’t know if you’ve ever loved me, but I can tell you with certainty that I have loved you every day since I was fifteen years old. Don’t promise me anything else that you can’t deliver, please,” I whisper with tears in my eyes.
Notorious Devils MC Complete Collection: BoxSet Page 153
