Oh God.
Every scrap of advice Minnie, Pinky, and Lorie had shared, even the stuff I really didn’t believe, or maybe didn’t want to believe, Buck proved true in that one statement.
“I don’t know how I feel about that,” I told him quietly.
“Toots, doesn’t matter how you feel about it. You took me on, you take my cock, you accepted my protection and you put your ass on the back of my bike. That’s the decision you made, no one forced you to make it. This is your life. And part a’ that is keepin’ your mouth shut about what you just saw. Minnie doesn’t need to know that shit.”
She knew.
She already knew.
She didn’t know about Nails, but she knew.
“I think I’m changing my mind,” I whispered and then took an immediate step back because his face changed, his body changed, the air in the room changed.
The snake was preparing to strike.
“Too late,” he said in a lethal voice. “You’re in, and once you’re in, there’s no way out.”
“Buck—”
He cut me off. “Get your shit and get your ass in the truck.”
Was he serious?
“But—”
He leaned forward at the waist and whispered a poisonous, “Now.”
I stared at him.
He was serious.
Dear God, he was serious.
Then, clearly with no other choice (as usual, and if I wasn’t already sick of that, which I was, I’d be sick to death of it in that moment), I walked past him, opened the door, walked down the now thankfully vacant hall, through the common area, out the front door…
And I did as I was told.
I got my “shit” and got in his truck.
18
That’s How Families Are
We turned up Buck’s drive, Mrs. Jimenez in the back.
Me, luckily saved from my thoughts because I had to pretend everything was all right.
No.
Everything was just great.
Instead of everything being wrong, wrong, wrong with quite a bit of clashing, right, right, right.
I had jumped from the frying pan straight into a fire.
Sure, this time, I had a roof over my head (that Buck was providing), food in my belly (ditto from Buck), a job (given to me by Buck), friends (also Buck’s) and safety (provided by Buck and his boys).
All of this was good.
All of it I liked.
But all of it made me more indebted to him.
This, however, was not in the normal way partners became indebted to each other.
Like, he took care of me, and later on down the line, I listened when he had problems or I made his favorite birthday cake or I bought a set of underwear he really, really liked and let him unveil it as a surprise, giving a little back.
This was a debt that was paid by the loss of my freedom, and maybe, my choice.
Apparently, according to Buck, I couldn’t leave.
And I couldn’t leave, not realistically.
But also, according to Buck, I just couldn’t.
The drive to Mrs. Jimenez’s had been tense.
Buck, in true Buck form, tried to dispel it.
He did this by taking my hand and saying gently, “I wasn’t pissed at you, baby. And I’m not now. I’m pissed at Gash. Then…and now.”
“Why?” I’d asked.
“Why?” he asked back, like that was a crazy question.
“Yes, why are you pissed at him, West?”
“Because he was stupid, babe,” he stated, like that was obvious.
The good of that was, it sounded genuine. He genuinely sounded pissed that Gash had been “stupid.” Stupid, I assumed, because he was doing something somewhere where he could get caught.
Not pissed that he saw Gash screwing his side piece.
So that was good.
Sort of.
The bad about that was, his answer was not, “Because Minnie’s a good woman and no man should do that ever, but definitely not to a good woman.”
Upon which, maybe, I could open discussions about what I saw weeks ago with Buck and Nails at the picnic table.
So at that point, I’d become the woman no woman should ever become.
I tested my man.
“I called Rayne Scott today,” I announced.
“Come again?” he’d replied.
“I called him. He came into the office,” I shared, and it even sounded like a dare. “I told him about the money. Rogan’s money that’s not really his money as well as the life insurance payout.”
Buck had no immediate reply.
But when I said no more, he drawled out a leading, “Okay.”
“I told him he could have it when I got it. To put it back in the pension fund.”
At that, Master of the Contradiction, West Hardy, who came with so much good, but also some significant bad, lifted my hand to his mouth, brushed my knuckles with his lips, dropped it to his thigh and said, “That’s cool.”
“That’s cool?” I pressed. “Minnie and Chap didn’t think it was cool.”
“They didn’t?” he asked, sounding perplexed.
“They didn’t think it was cool I give that money away and they really didn’t think it was cool I called Scott.”
“Gotta say, wished you’d told me that, so when he showed, I could have had your back, darlin’. He tweaks you. Not a fan of not bein’ there for you when you had your chat. Glad Minnie was there. But the money, it’s not Minnie’s. Or Chap’s. It’s not mine. It’s yours. Though, you’re right, some of it should go back to that pension fund. The money he stole. The life insurance, honey…” He let that trail.