Ravage MC: Inflame Me Part 18

I smirk. "I'm the best f.u.c.king thing that happened to you ol' man."

He slaps me on the shoulder. "Remember you're an old man, too."

Who f.u.c.king cares? I'm older and don't give a rats a.s.s what other people think, and Tanner doesn't seem to, either.

"Becs and I are going to meet with Ransom. Then we're taking off." Becs is the vice president of the club and a standup man. Ransom, on the other hand...

"What about?" I ask.

"Says he has some work for us. I'm just gonna go check it out." Pops shrugs.

"Want us to come along?" I trust no one but my brothers. I don't give a s.h.i.+t if Ransom has helped us out by helping us get even with people. He's not one of us.

"Nah. He just wants to go over some s.h.i.+t."

"All right. We're gonna get the girls off." Dagger says as we walk out the door.

"I'M COMING AS soon as we get our business done," I say to a misty-eyed Tanner. My woman's heart is pretty big.

"You don't need to. We'll be fine." I tap down the initial anger that wells inside. "You have a life here. Mine is up there." She shrugs as if it's all the same. f.u.c.k no, it's not.

"I'll be there." I don't have time for a debate or any s.h.i.+t. I'm going, and that's that. This s.h.i.+t is final.

"Okay," she whispers as Dagger walks up. They really haven't had a chance to get to know each other. I feel a bit sad that she doesn't know yet what a great guy her father is.

"Take care of your mom. I'll be up there for the funeral."

Tanner nods, pain etched on her face as she tries to push it out. She's feeling the lack of connection between her and her father.

Dagger pulls her into his arms and hugs her as tears start to fall from her eyes. Dammit. f.u.c.king tears, again. Dagger then kisses the top of her head and pulls away to her gasp.

"Go," he orders, but she turns to me.

She plows into my body hard, wrapping her arms around me.

"Sprite, it's only a couple of days."

She nods then pulls away. "Bye, Rhys."

f.u.c.k, I feel like it's good-bye, good-bye. f.u.c.k that.

"See you soon," I tell her, kissing her forehead before she gets in the car.

Both Dagger and I stare as the car and bikes holding Derek and Dips.h.i.+t leave. f.u.c.king h.e.l.l.

I rip my fingers through my hair. I need to pound something, but I don't have time. We need to head out, too.

AFTER A FULL day on the road, only stopping to get some shut eye, we pull up to Ralphie's well-guarded compound. Stone walls line the front with wires across the top. We're out in the middle of no man's land with no one around for miles. Of course, Ralphie does have a very profitable business, and it needs to be protected.

The wide gates open as we pull up, Pops leading the way in our pack. We follow and are led to a side lot where an ape of a man points.

The place is huge, acres and acres with buildings here and there. Even houses are spread throughout with gra.s.sy areas included.

We park our bikes and kill the engines.

"This way," the ape calls out, and with a nod from Pops, we follow. The entire crew came on this one: Pops, Becs, Zed, Dagger, GT, Cruz, Buzz, Tug, Breaker, and myself. We even tagged the leftover prospect into driving the cage behind us, just in case.

The ape opens the door to a large warehouse and goes through the doors where he stops us immediately. "Guns, cell phones, GPS's-whatever you've got needs to go into that bin right there." He points to a large plastic tote.

The idea of going into this s.h.i.+t unarmed does not sit right with me one bit. Luckily, it doesn't with Pops, either.

"We keep the guns and drop the cells," he says. The ape shakes his head, so Pops says, "Let me talk to Ralphie."

The ape pulls out his cell and holds it up to his ear. He has no hair and is built like a Mack truck. He then holds the phone out to Pops.

"What's going on, Ralphie?" Pops questions. "You know we need to have protection ... I understand." Pops's vein begins to tick in his neck, so whatever is being discussed over the phone isn't good. f.u.c.k.

"Got it." He hands the phone back to the ape and addresses us. "Everything in the tub."

f.u.c.king h.e.l.l. We listen, taking all of our s.h.i.+t off and putting it in. Why the f.u.c.k do I feel like we are being lead to slaughter?

"We called this meeting. He has every right to have these precautions," Pops reasons, but even if they are valid, I don't give a flying s.h.i.+t.

After emptying out everything and going through a f.u.c.king metal detector, we are led to a large room where Ralphie sits at the head of the table with his goons behind him. The little balding man sits prominently while he waits for us to sit down.

"You seem to have caused me a huge problem," Ralphie says, his fingers steepled, a clear sign of power.

"Those a.s.sholes were trying to take one of ours," Pops replies coolly.

"From what I understand, she was already theirs to begin with."

From the corner of my eye, I see Tug's hands fist, but he holds his s.h.i.+t together.

"So they thought. She didn't feel the same way," Pops says.

Ralphie smiles sinisterly. "Let's cut the s.h.i.+t. I don't have time for it. I do not have a problem in this situation. My pockets are fully lined, and the product is the same as usual."

So, those f.u.c.kers that took over paid Ralphie to keep him off their backs. They were smarter than I gave them credit for.

"You, on the other hand, have a problem. What do you want from me?"

This blows more than I realized. We owe him, but if we keep to our end, he'll stick to his.

"Get them off our a.s.ses," Pops says simply.

"And how do you propose I do that?" Ralphie questions.

"Threaten to pull your product if they don't."

Ralphie laughs. This time, it's real. "You think coming here and doing this grand bulls.h.i.+t will get me to roll over?"

"Seems you have some rats in your organization," Pops says.

It takes everything in my gut to keep my face impa.s.sive. How in the f.u.c.k did I miss this s.h.i.+t?

"Buzz here pulled up some information that I'm sure you want, because it's a Fed."

My spine stiffens. It's f.u.c.king painful to keep still.

"You're lying. My guys wouldn't," Ralphie says.

Pops's gaze turns to a guy with reddish-brown hair who stands to the left of Ralphie. His posture is stiff, but in control. His hands are clasped in front of him as he stares straight ahead.

"Isn't that right, Agent Peterson?" Pops asks.

It's small, so f.u.c.king small I'm not sure anyone saw it, but his left eye gives a slight twitch to the name. Son-of-a-b.i.t.c.h.

"Levi." Ralphie turns to the man, and Pops chuckles.

"Try Samuel David Peterson, FBI undercover. I'd appreciate it if you checked him for wires, considering this meeting and all." Pops leans back in the chair. This right here is why he is our leader.

"Dez," Ralphie orders another guy, who goes over to the agent, taking the gun away from him.

"I don't know what these a.s.sholes are talking about," the agent snaps.

"Check him," Ralphie orders then narrows his gaze at Pops. "Where's the proof?"

Pops looks over to Buzz who nods, reaching into his vest and pulling out a manila folder. He slides it across the table to Ralphie who opens it. He rustles through the papers, and whatever he sees turns his eyes to the venom of a snake.

"Gut him," he calls out. "Get a sweep of the entire place." His words are dripping in anger so thick, if we weren't sitting, it may have just knocked us on our a.s.ses.

They carry the agent out of the room, kicking and swearing that he didn't do anything. Whatever is in Ralphie's hand must be some doozy of evidence.

"What else?" Ralphie asks Pops.

"There are two more. They aren't in this room, though." This time, Pops pulls out a manila envelope, setting it in front of him. "I give you this, and you take care of our problem."

"You're f.u.c.king lucky you're a top runner for me." Ralphie shakes his head. "I clear this, and you do a run for me."

Pops's eyes narrow, the tension in the room growing tight. "What kind of run?"

"I have some precious cargo that needs to make its way to Southern Texas. You deliver it and give me the envelope, and we call it even."

As much as I f.u.c.king don't want to run whatever it is, it's in our best interest to get these a.s.sholes off our backs and for there to be a clean slate.

Pops looks to each of us at the table as we each nod in agreement. It's not like we have a huge choice at the moment. It's either this or pay out two hundred K. We have to trust that he will follow through.

"Fine," Pops says, sliding the paper across the table. "What are we taking?"

I PULLED MYSELF together once we were on the road. Mom and I talked the entire way, but I avoided questions about Rhys, not knowing what exactly to say. He's not a one woman kind of man, and I can't have that. Our arrangement was for the time I was there. When I left, it was over. The thought of another woman in his bed brings me to my knees, crus.h.i.+ng my heart with a sledgehammer. Therefore, I don't want to talk about him. I want to avoid the subject.

I have this gut feeling he won't be showing up for the funeral today or anytime else, for that matter. That feeling depresses the h.e.l.l out of me. That's why the good-bye was so hard. I knew he ruined me for other men, and there is no going back from him. Even if by some miracle he does come up, he won't stay. His life is there. Mine and my mother's lives are here.

I slip into the black dress and put on my pumps. We arrived back at my apartment late last night. I gave Mom my bed and slept on the couch. She says she has to do paperwork tomorrow for the house. It's a good thing she owned it because they weren't officially married, and she would have gotten nothing on the insurance. At least, that's what the guy told her on the phone on the way up here.

My stomach is twisting like a roller coaster on crack. I know it's a combination of today's events and the fact that I haven't heard a word from Rhys, only proving to me further that we are done and over with.

The ache in my heart has nothing to do with the death of James. To him, good-riddance. The pain is solely for Rhys. I'm not saying we'll have some happily ever after, but more time would have been nice.

I'll see if he shows up today then figure out what Mom and I are going to do.

I walk into the living room where Mom sits on the couch, her head back as she looks up at the ceiling. Her marks have mainly healed, and I did her makeup liberally to hide anything else. She's wearing a back pencil skirt; flowing, black s.h.i.+rt; and black flats.

"You ready?" I ask, moving closer to the couch.

She turns her head my way. "As much as I can be."

STARES.

All around me, people turn to look at me and my mother. She's doing her bit as the grieving widow, but I have to admit I'm pretty sure most of her tears are very real. Several mourners, including James's parents, hugged us when we arrived as we took our seats.

The service is a full-out cop's funeral with cars following the hea.r.s.e while I drive my mother behind it. She was asked to ride in the limo with the parents, but declined, saying she wanted to be alone. I don't really know her reasoning, but I went with it.

As I stand here at the reception with cops everywhere, I can't help looking every few minutes to see if Rhys has shown up. I've checked my phone hundreds of times, only to be disappointed each time. Still nothing.

I've talked to so many cops and well-wishers, smiling and shaking hands, even accepting hugs when they offered them.

It's so strange that the reason all these people are joined together is because I took the man's life. Me. He deserved it-don't get me wrong-but that is still on my shoulders. I've done my best to hide any emotion the entire time.

What I wouldn't give to have Rhys's arms around me to take it all away, but he's not here and, with the funeral coming to an end, not coming. I knew it, but a small part of me hoped, and now I feel incredibly let down.

"Ms. O'Ryan?" The voice has me turning quickly without thinking.

"Officer Miller." I need to work on masking myself better. Seeing him dredges up everything that happened back in Sumner, even the fact that Griff didn't show for his best friend and partner's funeral. I want to know what they did, but I don't. I think it would be best if I didn't.

"So sorry for your loss." A very pretty, pet.i.te blonde stands next to him, clutching his hand like she's afraid he'll vanish.

"Thank you," I respond, the words coming out light.

"Officer Miller, thank you so much for coming," my mother says from next to me, extending her hand like everything that happened has just vanished into thin air. She's so poised and perfect. I want to be her.

I have to hand it to the man; he's very good at nonchalance. He introduces us to his very quiet wife, and then they skirt off. I heave a breath after he leaves. I need a moment.

"I'm going to the bathroom," I tell my mother, moving off quickly.

I enter the stall and sit to do my business, checking my phone again. A giddy rise comes out of me when it shows I have a missed text, though it's from my father's phone, not Rhys's. I try not to let the disappointment swirl inside of me, but it's hard.

I open up the little envelope on my phone.