Page 15 of Owning the Prez’s Ol' Lady

“Tell me what’s going on.”

“Is it bad that I miss them?” I asked, unable to hide my feelings anymore.

“No, of course not. They were your family, Shasta—our family, I guess. They were fucking bastards most of the time, but they also were pretty good guys. That doesn’t change the fact that they fucked you up something fierce.”

“I know.” My voice was a choking sob as I did my best to battle my tears that I was losing the war against.

“Tell me something, Shasta. What are you holding on to anymore? You’ve gotten what you always wanted, you’re free of the club. You can’t tell me that you love each one of them.”

“No, you’re right. I don’t love all of them...”

Ramona frowned. “Which means you did fall for some of them... or maybe just one of them?”

My heart clenched inside my chest, so I buried my emotions in my knees. “There are parts of each of them that helped strengthen me, Ramona, and I’m still trying to figure out why I can’t just let them go. Everything was so fucked up and unhealthy back in Austin, and yet, every night I go to sleep, I close my eyes and all I can picture is him...”

She nodded her head, but I don’t think she truly understood what I was saying.

“It’s hard to love someone for most of your life and just let them go, Shasta. It’s understandable.”

Shaking my head, I tried to push the grizzly image of Sabbath’s blood on my body out of my brain, filling it with images of the smile that warmed my heart, the one that gave me so much strength when I felt so goddamn weak.

“Please, I don’t even want to think about that bastard.”

“Then who are you referring to?”

But before I could let his name leave my tongue, Joe appeared in the doorway, his blue eyes shining with worry as he stood there looking down at me, his presence creating even more chaos inside my fucked-up head.

Chapter Twelve

Snyder

Piece by piece, my brothers and I were slowly working towards stitching ourselves back together. But then Ranger came back with news that the Dismembered Crows were reforming, and were using our own fallen brothers to do it. Now the club was starting to fall apart all over again.

How were we supposed to fight the dead? How were any of them still fucking alive? I tried to think back to that night, and suddenly, it dawned on me. Jackyl, Floyd, and the rest of the prospects had stayed behind to make sure no one got out alive.

“Poison, Slaughterman, get the fuck in here!” I shouted into the common room, causing both men to look up with worry.

Clash appeared in the doorway first, obviously not wanting to be left out of the loop.

He smirked. “What? As your VP, I feel like I should be here as well. We all know how much you miss me when I’m gone.”

Rubbing my temples, I tried to eat the regret I was choking on for promoting him to VP. I should’ve gone with Ranger; he doesn’t talk as much and is less of a cocksucker.

Poison and Slaughterman entered the room, staring at me and Clash like they were about to get murdered.

“What’s up, Prez?” Poison asked as he warily sat in one of the chairs in front of me.

“I need information,” I started, glancing over at Clash who had his arms crossed. “The night we slaughtered the Crows, you all were ordered to stay behind and make sure no one was left alive.”

Poison and Slaughterman both shared a look, one I knew all too well.

“Fuck, tell me what happened.”

Slaughterman cleared his throat. “Well, when you guys all left, Ratt showed back up. He said that you wanted us to head back to the clubhouse before shit got worse.”

Poison continued, “But it was only us. Floyd and Jackyl stayed behind with him.”

“So, you’re saying there’s a possibility the Crows could still be alive?”

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