“You know this is about her. I know you do.”
For one brief fucking moment, yeah, I thought it was about her. But then I grew a fucking brain.
“You don’t think this has anything to do with the bullets we pumped into Brendan and his friend at the bachelor party? Because that’s what my money is on. They already came by my house and blew up one of my cars. That was just a taste. A teaser.”
Jasper said nothing, and I leaned back, appearing as relaxed as I could in the face of another fucking accusation. “How would they know where she is?”
I let that accusation linger in the air, my gaze fixed on Jasper.
“None of us said one fucking thing.”
That was what his mouth said, but his uneasy glance at Cal told me he wasn’t completely sure.
“Then there’s no reason to think anyone outside of this room knows where she is or who has her.” I finished off my drink and slammed the glass down hard as fuck. “This is retaliation for killing Brendan and that fucking Jack, plain and simple. I don’t know about you guys, but I plan to make them regret they fucked with my girls. My money.”
“You’re gonna use her as an example?” Jasper asked as he lit a cigarette.
Fuck no. “No. I’m going after what they care about. The money and the drugs.” Savannah had given me enough information over the past few days that I could hit them where it would leave a scar.
“Yeah? How do you plan to do that?”
I smiled at Jasper’s attempt to get intel from me. I might be a new Prez, but I wasn’t green to the game. “I have my men working on it. You should do the same.”
Virgil’s phone rang, and he picked up with a gruff, “Hello?” His thick brows dipped lower and lower as the call went on.
“We’re on our way.” He shoved the phone in his pocket and sent a snarling smile to his brother.
“Let’s go baby bro, your woman is in labor.”
Jasper stood at the same time as Cal, staring him down since they were face-to-face. “Don’t forget what I said, Calvin. If we catch her doing that shit again, she will have to be punished.”
Cal nodded and looked at the ground, waiting for Jasper to step aside. “I’ll deal with it,” he growled and followed Virgil out the door.
Terry followed a moment later, leaving the pub in silence until Cross broke it. “What do you plan to do?” His question aimed at Jasper.
“For now, I shut Lucky Lopez down until further notice, which is gonna cost us. Which means is has to fucking cost them too.”
He glanced at me, green gaze serious. “I’ll take the Crusaders and you handle the Jacks?”
“Or we both hit them both.” I didn’t want a war, but I wouldn’t back down from one either. “If they think we’re acting together, that puts everyone in more danger. Let’s retaliate independently and put the fucking fear of God into these assholes.”
A slow smile crossed Jasper’s face. “Yeah. Okay.” He tossed back one more drink and sighed. “Now though, I gotta get to the hospital.”
And I had some shit to do.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Savannah
Being stuck inside, even when I had no place to go, felt as much like a prison as not being able to go anywhere upon threat of violence. Or death. Of course, Charlie was not the same as the Black Jacks, not in any comparable way. But staying inside all day and all night was fucking with my head.
I couldn’t relive all the orgasms Charlie had given me since Sunday, even though nearly a week’s worth of pleasure was more than enough to keep my mind occupied for at least some of the day. Between thinking about those orgasms and touching myself while thinking about them, there were still too many damn hours in the day and nothing to fill them.
I cleaned Charlie’s house and washed the laundry. Scrubbed the floors and the walls. I’d even pulled the fridge out and cleaned behind it, all in the name of finding something to do each day. Now, I was so bored that there were only two things left to do—snooping and cooking.
Today’s boredom was cured by…snooping. Not because I was trying to find out if Charlie had any deep dark secrets. He’d already told me about the bullying and his concern about leading his MC, but he hadn’t shared much else with me. He’d left me so damn curious; I was burning up inside.
His dresser drawers were more organized than I would have expected of a twenty-five-year-old bachelor. Boxers on one side of the top drawer, boxer briefs on the other. Briefs, thankfully, nowhere to be found. The other was filled with socks, folded into pairs but tossed in carelessly which meant he wasn’t a psychopath. Thank goodness.