Wreaking Havoc (Dead Presidents MC Book 2) Page 15

  Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. “What were you locked up for?” I asked.

  “Work incident.”

  My eyebrows rose. “What was the charge?”

  I didn’t think he was going to answer me, but he relented. “Destruction of private property and aggravated assault.”

  “So, you lost your temper at work.” I shrugged. “Happens to the best of us. So… what exactly happened?”

  He shook his head, chuckling. “Anybody ever tell you you’re relentless?”

  “No. They usually use the word nosy. I’ve also been rightfully accused of meddling.”

  Grinning, he said, “Havoc could use some meddling, the tight-lipped motherfucker.”

  I cocked my head to the side, wondering if we knew the same Havoc. He didn’t blab or gossip or anything annoying like that, but Havoc and I spoke plenty.

  Before I could ask Stocks what he meant, my cell dinged with an incoming text. I pulled it out of my purse and thumbed it on. Another unknown number.

  ‘Times up, Julia.’

  I’d known he was going to contact me, but it still took the wind out of my sails. My shoulders tensed and I braced, waiting for something bad to happen. For the ground to open up and swallow me whole.

  “Everything okay?” Stocks asked.

  I forced a smile. “Peachy.”

  My phone stayed silent. Knowing the anticipation would drive me crazy if I didn’t do something, I tried to take my mind off it by starting up my computer and running a report on the upcoming new book releases. I was about halfway through placing my weekly order when the door rang, announcing customers. Stocks greeted the elderly couple who came in, somehow managing to turn off his scary military biker persona with a welcoming smile. They asked for the non-fiction section and he looked to me.

  “Right this way,” I said, stepping around the counter to lead them.

  Once they were situated and browsing, I returned and checked my phone again. Still no new texts from Wesley.

  The weekend was over, and I’d lose the payments from my trust fund. I was losing my only real means of financial support. What else did the diseased ass moth have in store for me? Forget it. Refusing to worry about Wesley’s devious plans, I opened a browser on my computer and started searching out ways to make money.

  Maybe a night job?

  I scanned other options, but the thought kept crossing my mind, sounding more and more appealing. Who needed sleep anyway? Not this girl. Not while I had coffee. Besides, I could nap while running the bookstore if I needed to. Especially with Stocks guarding the door.

  More customers came in. A mom and her two young daughters. I left them in the children’s section and went back to my computer to search local help wanted ads. I could tend bar or wait tables. Of course, both jobs required certifications and that would take time and money to acquire. The food server certification looked simple, though. I could do that. Easy peasy. Now, I just needed a restaurant that would hire me with absolutely no serving experience.

  Maybe serving the homeless would count as experience? I’d gotten a whopping five hours of volunteer work under my belt… I could prepare a résumé around that shit.

  The bell over the door chimed again. Thinking we were unusually busy for a Monday morning, I looked up to find a courier holding an envelope.

  “Julia Edwards?” he asked, approaching.

  “Yes?”

  Stocks stepped between us.

  The courier looked from me to stocks, then back to me. “I have a certified letter for you.” He held it up. “Just need your signature.”

  I circled the counter to stand beside Stocks.

  Gaze remaining on Stocks, the courier held an electronic tablet out to me. “Sign here, please.”

  I signed with my finger and he glanced at my signature before passing me the envelope with a quiet thanks. He turned and was out the door before I even had the chance to read the name of the sender.

  “Is everything okay?” Stocks asked, eyeing the envelope cradled in my hands.

  “I don’t know. It’s from my landlady.” I peeled away the easy-open strip as an uneasy feeling tightened around me. I knew in the pit of my stomach that this was what I’d been waiting for. The other shoe was dropping. I pulled out the pages and started reading. A two-page eviction notice. How could my world turn upside down with two pages? This wasn’t a shoe; it was a giant anvil that would crush me. My sweet little landlady, Mary Jeeters, had given me twenty days to vacate the premises.

  “Julia?” Stocks asked, watching me.

  “I have twenty days.” My voice sounded strange, as if someone else was speaking. Someone whose heart wasn’t breaking as she read over the notice details. Someone who wasn’t about to lose everything she loved. Twenty days to find a new lease and pay for a move? Impossible. Not even a night job could save me now.

  “The building wasn’t for sale. Mary promised to tell me if she ever decided to sell.”

  “Something must have changed,” Stocks said.

  Yep, and I had a sinking feeling I knew just who that something was. Needing to confirm my suspicions, I called Mary directly.

  “Oh, honey, isn’t it wonderful?” she gushed, making no sense whatsoever. “Such a sweet gesture. So romantic, I couldn’t say no. Especially not at the price he was offering.”

  “What gesture?” I asked, rubbing my temples, trying to ease away the migraine that was building.

  “He hasn’t told you yet? Oh, dear, I don’t want to ruin the surprise.”

  “Surprise? I received your letter and I’m having a heart attack here, trying to figure out how I’m going to move in twenty days.”

  “He was supposed to tell you this weekend.”

  Frustrated, I asked, “Who? Tell me what?”

  “Your fiancé bought the building as an engagement gift for you. He’s having you move out, so he can renovate your store and apartment. Make it trendier. He wrote it into the terms of the contract. Oh, I do hope I didn’t spoil the surprise, but he’s such a sweet young man I know he wouldn’t want you to worry. He obviously loves you dearly.”

  Fucking Wesley.

  Sweet man. Loved me dearly.

  I couldn’t breathe. My chest hurt, and my pulse raced, and the kindness and excitement in her voice were far too much for me to handle.

  “Thank you, Mary.” I managed to choke out. “Goodbye.”

  Hanging up, I lowered my head to my arms and fought the urge to cry. I’d known he was going to do something, but I hadn’t braced for this. How could I?

  “Julia?” Stocks asked. “Should I call Havoc?”

  “Not yet. Give me a minute.”

  I had one place in the world that I could call home, and that immoral, merciless mangina was taking it from me. I’d kill him. I’d stab him in the chest and rip out his cold, dead heart. Desperate to rally any possible allies, I tried Laura again. Her phone went straight to voicemail.

  Fucking honeymoon!

  With no other options, I did the unthinkable and called my father. Surprisingly enough, he took my call.

  “Julia.” His tone was clipped. Guarded. “It’s nice to hear from you.”

  “Is it, Dad?” I asked, my sadness and fear churning to anger. “Is it really?”

  “My hands are tied. You know about the stipulations on the—”

  “He’s taking my bookstore.” I blurted out. “My apartment. Everything. He purchased the building and served me an eviction notice.”

  Dad let out a breath. “I was hoping he wouldn’t give you that ultimatum. I tried to talk to him, but Wesley hasn’t been the same since you left. Since the wedding, he’s been erratic and unpredictable. I think seeing you with another man affected him more than any of us thought it would. He wants you back, and you know he’s not going to take no for an answer. He’s pressed me to cut off your trust fund payments, and without them, you won’t have the means to fight him.”

  “You could change the stipulations on the trust fund,�
� I reminded him. “Your hands aren’t tied. Not really.”

  “But the business, Julia. You know I can’t do that. Be reasonable.”

  My heart sank. I scanned the bookstore—the sweet elderly couple perusing the nonfiction section, the mom reading to her two daughters in the children’s section—this was my life. I refused to let Wesley or my father’s business take it away. “I’ve never asked you for anything. Not once.”

  “I know,” he huffed. “But this… We’ve been fostering this relationship for decades.”

  “And this is my store. My livelihood. My life.”

  “Wesley assured me that he’ll let you keep the store. Please see reason and return to your husband, Julia.”

  See reason? “He’s not my husband,” I growled. I’d tried talking, begging, and now I only had one card left. I slipped away from the ears of my customers and into the break room to play. “Did you know Wesley was in cahoots with the Kinlans?” I asked.

  Dad drew in a sharp breath. “Cahoots? That is a dangerous accusation to make. Especially over the phone.”

  I snorted. “He’s about to take everything from me, and you think I care about exposing him? They found teenage girls in one of those warehouses. Teenage girls being trafficked.”

  “I read the report.”

  “Wesley’s involvement. Did. You. Know?”

  His silence was more than enough of an answer. Disgusted, I shook my head. My eyes burned, and it felt like the room was caving in on me, like my entire world was crumbling around me. “Oh, God, were you and Mom part of it, too?”

  “No.”

  He wouldn’t tell me even if they had been. My stomach cramped. The back of my throat felt raw. Did I even know these people? “But that’s the kind of man you want me married to? Someone who traffics teenage girls.”

  “We all make mistakes in business, Julia. Do not pretend to be clean and righteous. I know you. I know the things you’ve done.”

  “Things I did for you!” A sob escaped from my throat. Taking a deep breath to settle myself, I said, “Do you know why I was content to be Mom’s puppet? To be your bargaining chip?”

  “Don’t act like you got nothing out of the deal. Your trust fund—”

  “Fuck my trust fund. You and Mom have dangled it over my head long enough, but you know what? The trust fund didn’t pull my strings. You guys did. I danced for you. For your approval and respect. I don’t give a flying fuck about the money.” Tears were beginning to stream down my cheeks. I angrily brushed them away. “All I ever wanted was to make you proud—to make you love me—and all you ever cared about was your business, your name, and your goddamn reputation.”

  “Julia—”

  “No. You call Wesley and you let him know that I’m never coming back to him. And if he takes away my store, I swear I will attack him with everything I have. I will call everyone who will listen and tell them that he was in bed with the Kinlans. That he’s probably the one who had them murdered.”

  “You have no proof, and he will—”

  “I don’t care. This is my chess game now, and I’d rather sacrifice myself than let him win.”

  “Julia, listen to reason.”

  “Again, with the reason? I’m so sick and tired of listening to your stupid reasoning. I’m not your fucking puppet anymore, Dad. Consider the strings cut.”

  I ended the call.

  So much emotion flooded me. Relief. Failure. Sorrow. Anger. It was too much to handle. Too much to even decipher. My cheeks were wet, my heart was broken, and not only had I cut ties to my family, but I’d burned the strings.

  What would happen when Laura came back? Would she be allowed to see me, or would they take her away, too?

  I needed pills and the Nā Pali Coastline. I needed to shove these feelings away so I could think. There had to be something I could do.

  “Julia?” Stocks said from the doorway, his tone concerned. “I hate to bother you, but the couple out here wants to ring up their purchase. If you could show me how to use the cash register…”

  I took a deep breath and wiped my cheeks. Then I pasted a smile on my face and went to go ring up my customers.

  The young family didn’t stay much longer than the elderly couple, and after everyone was gone, I called Havoc and filled him in on the situation.

  “What are you going to do?” he asked.

  “The less you know, the better,” I replied.

  “Jules…”

  I leaned against the counter. “Thought I’d drive over to his house, light a match, and see what happens.”

  “Arson? You really want to go down like that?” He was trying to keep things light, to make me feel better, but I could hear the worry in his voice. It touched something deep inside me.

  “Not really, but I could probably get off on a second-degree charge. We’re talking a ten-year max sentence, but since I have no prior record, I’d more likely get three to nine months. I’d prefer to snap his puny little weasel neck, but murder is a trickier charge.”

  “I see you’ve been doing your homework.”

  “I’m nothing if not thorough.”

  “Babe.” Havoc sighed. “I’m so sorry all this shit is happening to you.”

  “Not your fault.”

  “Yeah, but I should be there for you. I need to be there for you. I’ll call Brick and see if I can’t get him to cover for me, so I can head over there.”

  Havoc was such a great guy, and I didn’t deserve him at all. Dropping my head to my hands, I replied. “That’s not necessary.”

  “I know it’s not, but I also know you need me. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  As much as I wanted to argue, I did need Havoc. I needed him to wrap his big warm arms around me and tell me everything would be okay. I needed his brain to help me work out a plan, his strength to help me keep putting one foot in front of the other.

  “Anything I can do to help?” Stocks asked, reminding me that although Havoc wasn’t here, I wasn’t exactly alone.

  I stood up tall and let my training kick in, wrestling my emotions under control. “I’m fine, thank you,” I lied. “Actually, if you could get me a bottle of water from the fridge in the break room, that’d be great.”

  He nodded and left, graciously giving me time to pull myself together. I had no delusions about my parents being saints, but even if they hadn’t been involved in the Kinlan’s crimes, they knew about them. They knew Wesley was involved, and they wanted me to go back to him. They were willing to force me back into the arms of that evil son-of-a-bitch to protect their precious business.

  I’d rather rip off each of my fingernails and jam them into my eyes than live with him. I’d rather have the skin flayed from my body for a purse than climb back into bed with that devil.

  As I was thinking of all the other things I’d rather do, the bell above the door chimed, and Satan himself walked in.

  Julia

  WESLEY’S EYES WERE different. Dilated. Peculiar. Crazed. His top lip curled up in a sneer as he marched toward me with heavy steps, his gait purposeful. I had to fight the urge to step back. Way back. In fact, I wanted to run and hide. The instinct felt foreign and strange since I’d never been afraid of him physically. My breath hitched, and my pulse quickened.

  “Wh-what are you doing here?” I asked, angry at the way my voice wavered. I cleared my throat. “You’re not welcome here, Wesley.”

  “Julia?” Stocks asked, stepping into the room. His gaze shifted to Wesley. “Is everything okay?”

  “Another one?” Wesley asked with a chuckle. “You sure like to slum with the biker trash, don’t you, you dirty little slut?”

  “Hey!” Stocks shouted, approaching. “You don’t talk her like that, motherfucker.”

  “Stay back,” Wesley warned.

  Stocks kept coming. He made it three steps before a loud THWACK rang out. He dropped my water bottle. As it rolled across the floor, Stocks’s expression twisted with pain and his hands went to his stomach.
“You son-of-a-bitch,” he said.

  My heart leaped into my throat as I tried to figure out what had happened.

  Wesley was holding a pistol with a silencer attached, pointing it at Stocks. I stared from the weapon to my bodyguard, unable to believe my eyes. Stocks wobbled and leaned against the counter. Keeping one hand on his stomach, he used the other to pull himself down the counter toward Wesley.

  “You want another one?” Wesley asked. “Just keep coming.”

  “No!” I shouted, easing toward my ex with my hands up in surrender. “No. Please, Wesley. He’s… You… Stay there, Stocks. Don’t come any closer. What… what do you want, Wesley? Why are you here?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” he asked. “I came for what’s mine.” His gaze raked over my body, making me feel woozy and vulnerable. Or maybe that feeling came from the fact he was holding a gun and had just shot Stocks. “For what’s always been mine.”

  I wanted to argue, to scream, to tell him to go jump into the Puget Sound and swim until he reached China, but the gun in his hand, and the look in his eyes, silenced me. Swallowing past my suddenly dry throat, I kept my mouth shut.

  “You thought you could threaten me into leaving you alone, but you forget that nobody knows you like I do. I know what you really want. You showed me the way you like to be treated, the way you like to be fucked. You let that filthy biker fuck you like a prostitute, and you loved it. Why didn’t you ever tell me that’s what you wanted? That you wanted me in charge. In control. I get it now, Julia. You thought I was a pussy—that I wasn’t man enough for you—but let me reassure you, I am.” He gestured with the pistol toward Stocks. “Need another demonstration?”

  My stomach clenched. “No. Please. I can see that you’re not a pussy now. You’ve proven it.” I needed to get him away from Stocks before he did more damage. “You came for what’s yours? Fine. Take me.”

  “Julia, no,” Stocks argued, his voice weak. He was leaning heavily on the counter as blood coated the fingers covering his wound. I wanted to go to him and do something to stop the bleeding, but knew that would be a bad idea. The merciless look in Wesley’s eyes left little doubt as to what would happen if I showed Stocks compassion.