Wicked (Diamondback MC 7)

“Hey, brother, heard you wanted to talk.” We were supposed to meet outside of the warehouse. That plan backfired when Jolie needed Rage’s help and Shila needed a ride to work. I get this shit settled, and then I’m finding my woman a dependable vehicle and a place of our own to stay. Not at the Inn or in her small apartment that’s over someone’s garage. I’ve been smart through the years and saved every penny I could, and I know the same goes for Shila. Fuck, it shows in everything she does. The damn woman had the audacity to attempt to pay for half of her portion of our vacation. Wouldn’t stop until I took her cash. It’s why I snuck it back in her wallet today when she wasn’t looking.

“Yeah, I need to figure out a game plan here. Already talked to Shovel a bit and let him know my intentions about not leaving the club. There’s no way I can head back to Texas and leave Shila here. Been there, done that, not happenin’ again. And it’s not like I can uproot her when this has been her home. School and work are here for her. It’s why I wanted to talk to you before it goes to the table. You feel like havin’ a brother here with you permanently?” I state, ending it with a question Rage can’t refuse.

“Fuck, this is serious, then, you and Shila? Son of a bitch. Jolie said you and she had a past. Didn’t realize it ran that deep. No wonder you kept your shit so locked down.” He doesn’t know the half of it. What they do know is, I have no family besides the club and Shila. Other than that, it’s always just been me.

“Yep, very fuckin’ serious,” I respond.

“Alright, seems as though we need to call the club.” He claps me on the back as we sit down at the table, dialing a number all of us know without hesitation in our bodies. If it weren’t for the club, not sure I’d be half the man I am today, not for myself and damn sure not for Shila. While life took us away from one another for too many years, it also helped me grow, be a better man, be a part of a family, and to one day be the person Shila deserves.

“Yo,” Razor answers the phone after the first ring. Before I met with Rage, the necessary calls were put in place. As long as everyone’s on the same page, things will be good to go.

“Razor, everyone around?” I ask. I’d have rather done this back at our home base, but that wasn’t a possibility with Shila’s schedule.

“We’re here. Rage, you good with this?” Shovel asks, getting to the point.

“Could use all the help I could get,” he replies. I guess that solidifies any doubts I had in my mind when it came to Rage.

“Good, it’s settled. You have one last job here to do. Know you got shit going in your personal life, but still need you, Shadow,” Shovel tells me.

“I’ll head back this week.” I nod my head, working out an arrangement that will only take me away from Shila for a few short days and have me back here before the weekend.

“Anyone got a problem with today’s topic?” Shovel asks the brothers who I know are sitting around the table. We hear a chorus of nos. The slamming of the gavel means it’s done.

“See you soon, brother. Be safe,” Razor says, and then the phone clicks off before either Rage or myself can say anything else. That makes me wonder what the club needs me for back in Texas. Shit must be brewing if they can’t get a hold of the situation.

“When you leaving?” Rage asks.

“Tomorrow morning. Gotta talk to Shila.” And get her a fucking car.

“Keep me updated and ride easy.” I stand up. Rage does the same.

“Will do. Keep your eye on Shila?” Not that he doesn’t already with her and Jolie being close.

“Always.” I nod my head, then leave the room to find Shila, get shit situated, and start fuckin’ living.

18

SHILA

I heard the words leaving and then Texas. I didn’t stick around to listen to much else. My only thoughts were finding Jolie and letting her know what was going on, that I might need the rest of the week off. If she had to replace me, well, that would suck, though I could rub a nickel and turn it into a dollar. It’s not like I couldn’t do it again. After I spoke to Jolie, she nodded her head, told me to go after my man, and my job would still be here when or if I came back. That commenced squealing, crying, hugging, and me acting like a fool or a chicken with its head cut off, probably both with the way my day was going. It took me no less than an hour to walk to my place, pack a bag, grab the one thing that was always precious to me that I kept it in my nightstand drawer. Seeing it every day would have killed me. Bennett also hasn’t seen it, unless he did some serious snooping, which wouldn’t shock me, but I also think he’d say something if he did find it. Though, now that I think of it, the butterfly he has tattooed on his chest, the way it’s intricate in design, my name hidden in the wing so delicately. And, I didn’t say a word about it. Neither did Bennett.