Page 10 of Monk
After dropping my phone into my purse, I zip up my bags and carry them all downstairs. I’ve already pulled my Range Rover around the circular drive and parked in front of the porch with the back door open to make it quick and simple. I toss my bags into the back seat, then turn around and run back into the house, scrolling down the checklist in my head.
After Spencer left, I didn’t know I was going to do this. I sat there on the floor of his office for about an hour, completely numb. But once my mind seized the idea, I ran with it. If he’s not going to let me go, I’ll just have to facilitate my own escape. He probably thinks he’s got me scared and subdued to the point that I’ll sit meekly by. And if he actually thinks that, it just proves he doesn’t know the first thing about me.
I run into his office, looking around to see if there’s anything of mine I want to take with me, but don’t see anything. I’m just about to turn around and leave, when my eyes land on the gym bag in the corner. It’s still sitting open, and I can see the bundles of cash. I’m going to need money since I’m positive the first thing Spencer will do is cancel all of my cards and restrict access to my bank account, probably assuming that once I’m broke, I’ll come crawling back to him.
I silently chastise and kick myself for agreeing to give him control of my personal funds. But then, in my own defense, I’ve never thought I’ll be in this situation. I’ve always known I will be able to trust him and never have I imagined myself giving him control over my life. It’s been a given for me that if there is going to be one person in the world I can trust, it will be the man I married.
“Yet one more mistake to add to the pile,” I mutter to myself.
Not giving myself time to think about it, I dash across the office and grab the bag. I’m not sure how much is in here, but it looks like enough to keep me on the run for a little while. I zip it up, run back out, and toss the bag along with the others, then slam the door. I jump into the driver’s seat, then recalling David’s words to me, take the GPS unit out of its holder attached to the dash. I disconnect its cables, then toss it out and onto the driveway.
A smile creeps across my face, and as I start the car and begin to pull away, I feel a flutter in my heart. It’s a good feeling. One I haven’t felt in a very, very long time.
Driving away from the house I’ve never wanted and the man who’s become a monster, I feel lighter… happy.
Chapter Four
Monk
The chrome exhaust pipes on my bike gleam in the sunlight, making them glitter almost blindingly as I wipe off the last of the water spots. After yesterday’s run to Sacramento, my bike needed some attention. A little tune-up and a good washing, and she’s good as new. I like losing myself in small projects like these. It helps keep me focused and calm.
“You know, we’ve got prospects for that.”
I look up to see the tall, thick frame of Troy Banks, also known as Poe, striding toward me, smiling. He’s the MC’s secretary and has the build of a pro linebacker, but strangely enough, the mind of a literature professor. Aside from me, he might be the only other Pharaoh that reads regularly. His self-proclaimed favorite is Edgar Allen Poe, hence the nickname.
“Like I’d trust a prospect with my bike,” I say.
He shrugs his massive shoulders. “If they ding your ride, you kick their ass. It’s the circle of life, kid.”
“Seems easier just to do it myself,” I tell him. “Besides, I like the monotony of it. Helps me think.”
“Some of us think you do too much of that. Thinking, I mean.”
I shrug. “You can never really think too much, can you?”
“Depends on who you ask.”
“Seems like some of the guys don’t do enough thinking, if you ask me.”
He nods. “You aren’t wrong about that, brother.”
He pulls his sandy blond hair back into a tight tail and wraps a rubber band around it. Poe pulls his sunglasses out of his kutte’s pocket and slips them on.
“You on a run today?” I ask.
“Yeah. Nothin’ heavy,” he replies. “Speaking of which, I heard you tuned up some guy at Randy’s.”
A small smirk starts to form on my lips. “Cosmo needs to stop runnin’ his mouth.”
I hear him mutter a “tsk”. “Shouldn’t be tellin’ a club officer what he can and can’t talk about. You know better than that. We can take your patch as easily as we gave it to you.”
I scoff. “You think getting my patch was easy?”
“Relax. I’m just bustin’ your balls, kid. More or less,” Poe says.
He looks at me evenly, reinforcing his point. They’ve talked to me about my temper and keeping it in check before. What can I say? I’m a work in progress.
“I let it get away from me. I’m working on it,” I tell him.
