Page 31 of Steal

“I never left,” I admit, making his eyes come to mine in shock. I continue, “What is it Piston used to say, Steal?”

He flinches when I use his road name, but he mutters, “If you want to run, hide in plain sight,” and I shrug. He growls, “You never fucking handed in your keys to your landlord, did you?”

I grin at him coyly before turning to my car and unlocking it.

“Can we talk, Cassy…before I go and kill your landlord?” he asks sternly.

I shake my head as I throw my bag into my car, suddenly glad Tanner had the sense to remove Moira’s car seat.

“No can do. I’m a patch-chasing whore, remember.” I look his way and say, “Why don’t you go back to Faith, because it wouldn’t surprise me if she’s still hanging around, ruining more lives.” I climb into my car as his phone rings, and I chuckle darkly, knowing exactly who it is by how tense he gets.

Without a backward glance, I turn my car on and drive off, heading toward the gym where my sister has been living, something Acid doesn’t know.

My sister, Perrie, a woman who has gone through so much in her short life, so much that I should have been there for, to prevent, to help her through. And I wasn’t.

I fucking failed her….

11

Steal – One Week Later

I tap my thigh as I eye the hospital's double doors, where the staff leave after their shift and where Cass has been coming to grab her lunch from her car before disappearing somewhere inside the massive hospital. Normally, she’d go through the locked doors so that I couldn’t follow.

Dr. Cassidy Brody is a resident doctor who has surpassed her peers and is due to be employed as a full-time E.R. doctor a year early, while being mentored by Dr. Carmichael. It turns out he was also her professor at New York Medical School.

She quit her job at the grocery store to make it look like she had left her old life, but started working nights at a care facility five miles from her apartment, which is also under Cassidy Brody, along with her student information.

I fucking love that she has my last name, but I hate that it's not because she married me but because she knew she could hide using it.

I sigh, rubbing my hand over my stubbled jaw. Piston has managed to find a full file on Cassidy Brody, but I can’t seem to access some things, like her medical records, though he is still trying.

“Come on, Trouble,” I mutter impatiently.

All week she’s avoided me and the club, and each time one of my brothers has tried to speak to her, some blonde-haired fucker has intervened, giving her time to walk away, the same fucker that’s nearly always around her, with his arm over her shoulder or touching her.

She fucking moved on from me, I know it, and I can see it, but if she thinks that will make me back off, then she has another think coming.

She’s fucking mine, she always has been, and this guy is just a blip.

Seeing her for the first time in years, fuck, I thought I was seeing a ghost, especially after seeing Natalie’s body thrown over Brooklyn Bridge by the Killers, after they rammed into her car when she was leaving the clubhouse.

That day, my head was all over the place; our prospect, a really fucking good one, Adam, was dead, killed trying to save Nat during a shootout, and Piston was ready to fall apart after jumping in after Natalie, and then having to give her CPR. And we all knew it was Acid and Piston’s father that ordered the hit to get to his sons because the fucker wants my club and territory, but is hiding behind the scenes like a weasel. All of that happening, right after the other, only to see my girl, the love of my fucking life, is Natalie’s doctor.

Fuck, I’m proud of her, so fucking proud.

Don’t get me wrong, I hate that I wasn’t there to see her complete med school, to see her graduate—again, but I’m proud of what she’s accomplished to make her dreams come true, that she’s finally put herself first. And when she finally talks to me again, I’m taking her to the Hamptons to see the stars and, as I promised her dad, I’ll treat her like a fucking queen….

“Treat her like you’d expect your father to treat your mother, son. Treat her like the queen she is,” John states as he hands me a beer, and I sigh.

“I know I fucked up, John. I love your daughter, I fucking do, but at the moment, the old generation doesn’t want to see me take over, and I can’t have my father’s legacy, my grandfather's, to be brought down. If she’d just accept my cut, things would be different.”

John nods before taking a sip of his beer. He replies, “Cass wants to make me and her sister proud. Her focus is school, and once she’s finished, she’ll take your cut, Steal, I promise you. Just keep the brothers at bay until then.”

I nod, taking a sip of my beer, hoping he’s right.

I let him down, I let his daughter down. I never fucking treated her like a queen because the club always came first. Bull and Brute wanted their nephew ‘Skinny’ as president and tried to convince my father to make Skinny his heir.

Funny enough, Skinny is now dead, tortured, and killed by the Killers after he gave up some of our decoy gun smuggling drop locations, and Bull hasn’t brought him up again, knowing full fucking well that he’d be kicked out of the club if he opened his mouth to stick up for the weasel.

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