And now I crave conversation. That story about Twilight being her introduction to reading as an escape wasn’t enough. I want to know more about her past, no matter how much it makes me want to dig up her dead father and kill him all over again for allowing a man to take her innocence for some fucking smack.
What’s worse is the fact that I know she’s hiding something. There’s been this certain apprehension in everything she does lately. I’m sure no one else has noticed, but I’ve always been observant, studying people when they’re not aware.
And Winter has changed in the last couple of weeks. That fear that was there when she first got here is gone and I figure that’s because she knows the worst has already happened. Maximo’s taken here, repeatedly. Giovanni fucked and brutalised her body while I watched, not taking any mercy on her.
So what does she have to fear from us other than death?
That’s not the biggest change that concerns me though, it’s the way she watches all of us as if she’s trying to figure out a puzzle, especially me and Giovanni. It started right after the shootout with the Ramos cartel. The questions in her eyes were clear and a part of me wanted her to ask them, wanting to give her answers.
I think it’s worse when she watches me closely as if she’s expecting me to suddenly lash out at her.
Like when we were talking at the pier and she’d suddenly stopped talking and started studying me as if she wasn’t quite sure of the man she was sitting with, which I guess was true.
I don’t even know who I am these days after all.
A loud knock sounds at my door and I’m just putting my cigar out when it swings open. I try to hide the stem but Giovanni sees it the second he enters the room. He pauses, raising a brow and I push my thoughts away, already knowing there’s an inquisition coming.
“You're smoking?” he asks. “In the summer?” he tacks on.
My teeth grind together slightly. I’ve never been a heavy smoker and even less so in the hottest season of the year. When the sun is already steaming me, the last thing I want to add is more smoke.
“Yes, I’m a little on edge with everything that’s going on.”
He continues to watch me, his eyes moving to the neglected cigar before he finally nods. He plops down in the seat across from me, folding his arms down onto the armrest. He relaxes into the seat and somehow it feels like he’s turned my office into his.
“I got to have a long talk with Hollow and Razor the other day,” he says, rubbing his chin. His gaze is a little unfocused for a moment before he blinks. “They want in.”
I let all thoughts of Winter flee my mind for real this time as I sit up. “I’m not surprised, I kind of figured when Hollow called that his mind was made up.”
“He has his own bones to pick with both Seven Quad and Sheffield, so it worked out perfectly for us.”
I don’t point out the fact that he and Hollow were also friends after we’d graduated high school. Hollow is a couple years our senior, but he’d lived in the city before the MC relocated to the country roads of Birkenwood.
Their friendship doesn’t matter, because if Hollow didn’t want to ally up with us, he wouldn’t, friendship or not. And Giovanni wouldn’t expect him to. We’ve had multiple old friends reach out for our help in the past but if it wasn’t to our benefit to help, neither of us hesitated to turn them down.
And Hollow is the same way, especially since the MCs stay out of our business and we stay out of theirs. It was part of the agreement that the families had struck with the clubs years ago to keep the peace. We couldn’t both stay in this town without being at each other's throats, especially with Seven Quad and other gangs also in the city limits.
And country roads worked out a whole lot better for the club anyway, giving them more freedom with their bikes, their parties, and the drugs they ran.
“The second things move further with either Seven Quad or Sheffield, we can give them a call and they’ll be here.”
“What does he want in return?” I ask, because even if the MC has beef with Seven Quad and Sheffield, they’re not helping us for that reason. It’s not good enough. They have to have wanted something else.
“Surprisingly, the request was simple,” he says, his fingers tapping along the armrest. “He wanted permission to scour the city for some woman and for us to keep an eye out for her as well.”
That’s… underwhelming, and frankly not a good ass deal, but who am I to complain when we’re the ones coming out on the better of things.
“Did he give you a name?” I ask him.
“Yeah, Justina Deveroux,” he says. He pulls his phone out, tapping a couple of buttons before turning the phone in my direction.
The gorgeous, dark skinned woman on the screen looks slightly familiar but I can’t figure out from where. She has black, wavy hair with blond highlights. Her brown eyes are hard in the picture, her lips pressed into an uneven smile. Two hoops sneak through her nose. Even on the digital screen, she’s striking, and clearly troubled.
“Deveroux? That has to be an alias, right?”
“I’m thinking so, unless she’s from the swamps and migrated up this way.”
“Did Hollow mention why they’re looking for her?”