Page 44 of Rox

“No, actually. It went as well as I thought. She’s getting her way, and she’s happy.” I shoot back another drink. Burrito snatches the bottle from me before I can have more. I pout like a petulant child who had their candy taken away.

“Then why are you here? Shouldn’t you be hooking up with that bombshell of a princess you have?” he asks, about to turn away with the booze. My hand reaches out before I can think better of it, but my reflexes are off. I’m too slow, and he is out of my reach.

“You don’t get to look at her with your leery eyes. She is a goddess and too good for us mere mortals,” I slur.

“Oh-kay there, Othello. I’m glad I cut you off even more now.” Burrito tells me, sliding a bottle of water my way.

“You have to see this plan is dangerous, right? Like, am I the only one who sees that?” I ask, focusing on the one problem I cantalk about. Not those other problems. Problems that are secret problems.

Woah, even my thoughts are drunk. Problems are problems secret probleming. I’m funny.

“You okay there, boss?” Burrito asks. My gaze snaps to him so fast that I lose balance and almost fall off the stool. “Okay, you need something stronger than this.” He takes the water and comes back surprisingly fast with a mug of coffee that I look at like it’s going to bite me. “You sat there for five whole minutes giggling like a mouse on meth, my guy. You need to sober up before you go home.”

“Fine, but I don’t like it.” I grump at him, taking a tentative sip of the black hot sludge. “But you never answered the question.” I take another sip to appease my barkeeping brother. “Do you think using my Ol’ Lady as bait is too risky?”

“Ol’ Lady? As far as I knew, you were just knocking boots with the president’s spawn. But if we are going deep and serious. Yes, I think it’s dangerous,” I almost cut him off and feel that bubble of vindication, but him holding up his hand bursts that feeling. “But everything about this is dangerous. We are dealing with a guy who tried to kill not only Roxie but you as well. This guy had to know you were also there when he put this plan into motion. So yes, it’s dangerous, but that’s because the threat is dangerous.”

“She shouldn’t have to play bait. It’s bullshit!” I yell at him, slamming my hand down on the bar top. I feel all eyes on me this time, but I can’t stop my feelings bubbling. “She is here, safe, and this guy has fucked off. Maybe we should just keep waiting. Why put her in danger?” I don’t know where it’s coming from, but I suddenly feel overwhelmed.

“Guess who just got his soul sucked out of his dick?” Duck yells out after kicking the door to the clubhouse open, taking the focus off me for ten glorious seconds.

Twenty Two

Mimic

“Duck. Shut the fuck up.” I hear Prez call out.

Fuck-a-duck. Not the man I want around right now. I look back at him, and he doesn’t look mad, but I’m also way past three sheets to the wind and could be very fucking wrong. When he makes his way up the bar, he decides right next to me is where he should stand. I look up at him, barely, “You need to control your daughter.”

He laughs.

He’s laughing as if I said the funniest fucking thing ever.

“Don’t you think I’ve tried? She’s strong, Mimic. She’s going to do what she wants.” He smacks his hand down on my shoulder, and I can’t help but recoil and shrug him off—causing his laughter to die. “What the hell is going on, Mimic?”

I scoff, and because I have zero mental clarity, I have zero fucking filter. “She doesn’t give a single shit about her life. She’s willing to put herself in danger. She doesn’t care. I seem to be the only one who fucking does.”

“Hey, that’s bullshit, and you know it. That girl is my entire world. But she’s a grown woman, man. She will make her own choices about her life and how she handles it. Her past has molded her. Living surrounded by this club has molded her. Look,” he lets out a breath, “I can admit that I forgot how strong she really is. She’s going through trauma, and we need to help her through it, not push what we want on her.”

“Yeah, we all have trauma, Prez. Every single one of us in this room has been through some shit. I gave her everything. She knows who I am, yet she’s hiding behind a wall. She says it hurts but won’t share it with me. She won’t let me help her through it. You all know what’s causing her reaction, yet I know nothing. Frankly, it only makes me believe it’s not bad at all. She’s just a liar.”

The second the words were out of my mouth, I knew I fucked up. The moment was cemented, though, when I glanced up at Prez, and it was as if the Devil himself were standing in front of me. I didn’t see anything past his black eyes, but I felt his hand on the back of my head before I met the bar top, and my world went dark.

* * *

“Welcome back.”

My head is hanging down, and my chin is touching my chest. I can feel the tension in my shoulders, so I roll my head to the side, immediately coming in contact with my arm. Groaning, I work to open my eyes all the way. It takes a moment, but I finally get my bearings.

Prez and the rest of the club are standing around me in a half circle. It takes about five seconds more before I fully understand where I am.

“Shit,” I whisper.

“You know, when this chapter of NOMC opened, I told myself I would do things differently. While I love this club’s message, I didn’t want to run things the way Cowboy does or the way Judge did before him. I wanted this club to run the way I saw fit. This was the best way for us while still holding onto the fundamental values of the Nameless Order. It’s been rough, but I think I managed to do what’s been needed. However, I took a couple of things with me—for instance, the ring.

I work to make sure I react differently than Cowboy. I handle our conflicts in ways that will keep my demon at bay. But this, this I love. This I need, and so do you.

Do you think you know what my baby’s been through?”

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