Page 37 of July 27

Now, she was leaving, and he wasn't even going to mention what happened earlier tonight.

Acid burned her throat. She tied a knot in the plastic and returned to the living room, where she found her sneakers and slipped them on her feet.

"Ready?" asked Shady.

She glanced at Ruger, silently begging him to say something. But he fiddled with a pack of cigarettes and wouldn't look at her.

She nodded, lugging the bag up into her arms. Her brother walked out of the cottage without helping her. She waited for Ruger to acknowledge her leaving, but he put a cigarette in his mouth and lit the end, even though he never smoked inside the cottage.

She walked to the door and paused. Looking over her shoulder, she swallowed the lump of emotions choking her. The last thing she wanted to do was leave, but she needed some sign that she was wanted.

Please, Ruger. Please, look at me.

He walked into the kitchen out of sight. From her position at the door, she could hear the fridge open, the air hissing out of the bottle of beer he opened, and then silence. He was going to let her walk away without saying a word.

She blinked frantically and walked out of the cottage with her chin up. Her brother would spot any weakness in her and want to know what was going on. She wasn't ready to discuss Ruger with him or anyone.

Maybe she'd imagined everything, and it was time to go back to her real life—a life filled with danger, where she didn't know what would happen tomorrow.

Chapter Nineteen

Ruger stomped into the clubhouse and threw the duffle on the table. It'd taken him three hours to get into the pot shop and distract the workers while Dio laundered the books and included the money into the gross net of the shop. Over the last two weeks, he'd become one of the money mules for Havlin.

Working with Moroad was an intricate business. Havlin received the dirty money, put it into the pot shops within Havlin territory—the club worked under the table running security for them—and, in return, the pot shops unknowingly, thanks to Dio, paid workers they had no idea were on the payroll with the clean money from the business.

It almost sounded too simple. But the risk was huge.

If caught, he could face ten to twenty years in prison and be penalized for paying back twice as much money as he laundered.

He needed to keep his head. Right now, his freedom was the most important thing he had.

"Stick around." Jagger looked at his phone. "Meeting in fifteen minutes for the officers."

He walked away from the table. The rest of the day had nothing to do with him.

"Ruger. Stay."

He stopped, inhaled deeply, and turned around. He wasn't an officer.

"You'll need to attend the meeting." Jagger passed a stack of papers to Bane. "It won't take long."

He had no other plans, but sitting around listening to the officers' bullshit about club business was at the bottom of his list of things he'd want to do. He approached the table and sat down on the other side, opposite Jagger. The only reason he was staying was because if he went back to the cottage, he'd only end up drinking himself into a coma.

It was how he got through the nights lately.

If he stayed away from the bottle, he only thought about Rachel.

Shady was out of prison, caring for his sister, but it only gave him more to worry about. Shady wasn't going to change his ways. If anything, he would get in more trouble as he tried to adjust to the outside and find ways to bring an income into the family.

But none of that was his problem.

Rachel was home, where she belonged.

Katrina approached Jagger, leaning down and kissing him before running her fingers through his hair. Ruger watched his daughter, looking for any problems, but there were none.

The two of them were comfortable with each other. Even more relaxed than his relationship with Katrina.

He swallowed the bitterness. As much as he was happy for his daughter, he missed out on so fucking much. It would always be one of his biggest regrets. He should've been here, raising her.

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