Page 6 of Roman

“Na. Went home early. Doesn’t come out much I’m told. Not after the heart thing.” My eyes dart up in surprise.

“Heart thing?”

“Yeah. Ole’ lady keeps him on a tight leash I hear.” Smoke eyes me up and down again. “So, is that why you’re here? To get your hands on the Pres? ‘Cause he’s a married man. Unless that’s your thing.”

“The club is helping me,” I say not wanting to tell him much more.

“I see. Well I could help you too you know.” His brows bounce up and down suggestively.

“Not that kind of help and-”

“Beat it Smoke.” That dark husky voice from my past comes barreling into the conversation I didn’t want to be a part of.

“All right VP, not trying to cause any problems. Just talking with the lady is all.” Smoke backs up a step and shoots me a smirk before he walks away. Me? I still can’t look up at the man directly to my left. I smell him though. That smell that goes straight to the very center of my soul and causes a ripple effect through my whole body. Like a drop in a calm pond.

“Did you get some sleep?” he steps in closer, his body heat radiating off him in waves.

“Yep. All rested. Can you tell me what the club decided on?” I know they would have brought helping me to a vote.

“Let’s go upstairs.” He reaches for the door only I stop him.

“How about we grab a table instead. I need something to drink.” I turn around and take off toward the bar where I see a younger man bartending. As I look him over, I notice that I have seen him before. Maybe not him but a younger version of him.

“Kasin? Oh my god is that you?” the boy looks up at me, pausing in his pouring the glass of whisky for one of the guys. “You grew up.” He smiles at me and then places the glass down on the bar top. “Pria,” I say placing a hand on my chest, “You probably don’t remember me.”

“I do.” I smile when I hear him speak. When I left the little boy never said a word. This person here in front of me is a man now. And is the spitting image of his father. “What are you drinking?”

“Tequila. I’ll take the bottle and a glass please.” He gives me a nod then grabs the requested items, handing them over before taking off toward another customer. I walk over to an empty table and take a seat then promptly pour myself a shot. The first goes down like needles but the second one is more comforting. I haven’t drank in years. Not since before my daughter was born.

“You don’t want to eat anything before you start knocking those back?” I wave Roman off as he sits down across from me.

“Who needs food?” I fill up my glass again but before I can take it in my hand and drink it Roman snatches it away and drinks it himself. “Jerk.”

“The club voted and decided to help you. Wiz is already on it.” I smile at the thought of Wiz.

“How is Wiz these days?”

“Married,” Roman mumbles and takes the bottle from my hand. “What about you?”

“What about me what?” he takes a swig right from the bottle then pours some into the glass.

“The kid has to have a dad right? Where is he? How come he isn’t looking for her? I know damn well if I had a kid I would be tearing apart every fucking town to find her.” His words come out harsh and cause a lump in my throat to swell. Quickly I grab the glass and drink it back, needing some sort of distraction so I can find my footing again.

“I never told her father about her,” I answer honestly. “At the time I didn’t think he would care.”

“I see.” He takes another drink from the bottle. “Grown cold over the years huh?”

“Has there been any progress yet?” I ask wanting to change the subject.

Roman leans back in his chair, pulling at his bottom lip with his teeth as if assessing me. “No. Nothing yet. You’ll be the first to know when there is.” He stands up from the table and takes the bottle with him. “Go back upstairs.” With that he walks away. Only I don’t listen. He isn’t ordering me around. Not now, not ever.

6

Roman

I knew she wouldn’t go back upstairs, just to spite me. The woman always did her own thing and that looks like it hasn’t changed a bit. As much as I wanted to reach across that table and wrap my hand around her throat and demand the truth, I kept myself in check. I pull up the picture Brood sent to my phone. She looks just like Masie did at that age. Same hair and eye color. Same dark tone to her skin. The kid is absolutely stunning and even though I want to strangle the life out of her mother for not telling me about her I can’t help but have some sort of pride beaming through me. I have a daughter. That pride turns to fear when I let myself think of her being out there somewhere, scared and alone. She probably thinks she will never see her mom again, never get to meet her dad one day. I could play the what-if game until I’m blue in the face and it wouldn’t change a thing. What matters is that Pria came here for help knowing that we were the only ones that could find our daughter. She isn’t fucking wrong either. That much is true when a text drops down from the top of my screen.

Wiz:We got word that there is a shipment of girls being brought up the coast. My contact will be there shortly to help. He knows these kinds of people and trust me, he is someone you want help from. Just try not to kill him.

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