Page 19 of Seizing Control: Part Two

“With your weddin’ ring,” he tells me. My grip is fierce as I clutch the lapels of his cut and weep with a mixture of sadness and relief. Tears streaming, face pressed to his neck, every word he says is a bullet to the chest. “In the dish on your vanity. I washed up in there after my nap in your bed, and it was just sittin’ there... like a landmine waitin’ to explode.” When I lift my head to meet his eyes, he expands on his cryptic comment. “For weeks, I’ve tried not to think about him. Seein’ it made it all real again. A fuckin’ weed pipe—he made you a little piece of me to wear.” I nod to confirm his unspoken question. My cousin’s face fills with regret and sorrow. The sight of his unnecessary grief makes my heart race, and the role I’m playing in his pain stabs at my conscience when he admits, “Might’a shed a tear or two, so like it was a talisman or somethin’, I decided to take it with me.”

I open my mouth to tell him the truth.

Then I close it...

As much as Slash’s decision to send Toker and Cub home without him hurts, the ache in my heart is mitigated by my new reality.

Zeke returned.

He left me another charm.

I’m mad that he managed to slip in without me noticing.

It still lightens my heart to know that he is thinking of me.

“Did Gabriel tell you how many charms he left for you?”

Shaking my head, I respond truthfully, “No.”

“Bet he’s got everyone of us covered,” Toker muses. He nods once, then his eyes flash with humour. “Show me what he’s given you so far?”

With a teary smile lifting my lips, I watch as my cousin happily inspects every charm on my bracelet, one at a time. He grins as he carefully unlatches the clasp and slides the tiny weed pipe on next to the snake that Zeke left for me a week ago. I feel the tremor in his hands, the delicate touch he uses to re-secure the chain around my wrist, and it breaks my heart.

My spirits are soaring with the realisation that one of the men I love still loves me back.

Unfortunately, Toker continues to struggle under the weight of Zeke’s fake death.

As happy as I am that my first love is alive, it’s a revelation I do not look forward to witnessing when the time comes.

Because I’ll get my first love back...

But at what cost?

4

SLASH

Eleven days later

The air is sticky as I emerge from the nondescript office building in the heart of the city. It’s like walking into a wall of humidity. My skin itches in the heat. The tight throbbing in my forehead heralds the onset of another headache. Out of habit, I reach up to release my hair from its hair tie, but come up empty. The buzz cut is taking some getting used to, the jump scare I get every time I catch glimpse of myself constantly sets my teeth on edge.

More than two weeks have gone by since I decided to remain on the east coast, and every extra second that passes makes me think it was a mistake. All of it. Cutting my hair. Cutting a deal with Gabriel. Sending my SAA and tech officer home to keep them from sharing their opinions about my next move. I’m not in my usual surroundings which means I’m bereft of my support system. My mumma isn’t speaking to me. Hunter continues to ice me out. Whenever I communicate with Dad, he keeps our conversation short and related to the Shamrocks business only.

Worst of all, every text I send to my wife is just another reminder that she’s on the opposite side of the country to me. By my choice. With Lazarus breathing down her neck as he readies himself to return from the dead. The only boon on my horizon is the Adjudicator’s promise to keep the meddling arsehole away from my duchess while I chase ghosts around Queensland for him.

I’m tired and short-tempered. It takes a herculean effort to stop from snapping at the enforcers accompanying me around the east coast. The constant surveillance from Meeyal annoys the fuck out of me. His silent condemnation makes my skin crawl. My meetings with the hierarchy from the other Black Shamrocks MC chapters where I press the flesh and make my face known are both a necessity and a waste of my time. I’m the new National president. Whoop-de-doo. Everyone who matters already knows me, and no one understands my choice to keep the National vice presidency empty.

Not that I can blame them on that point since I don’t fully understand it myself.

All I know is the idea of nominating someone to fill the vacancy makes my stomach churn.

Squinting in the bright sunshine, I slide my sunglasses on, then motion with my pounding head for Meeyal and the rest of our contingent to follow me back to our bikes. They weren’t allowed into my meeting with Veronica Cerulli, the Adjudicator’s right-hand woman and my handler during the side-project I’m undertaking for Gabriel in exchange for him delaying Venom’s resurrection as Lazarus. This lapse in MC protocol, especially after I sent Toker back to Perth, is a circumstance that displeases my watchman—a fact he reiterates with his curt greeting when he draws level with me as I walk in the direction of our parking spot.

“Took you long enough.”

“Took exactly as long as it needed.” He scoffs something unintelligible under his breath at my retort. Deciding that I’m too exhausted for a fight, I let his defiance slide and ask, “Did you finalise the delivery?”

Meeyal nods. “The weapons are secured at the docks. Your meetin’ with Silver is set for an hour’s time.”

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