Page 152 of Beautifully Reckless

“So it’strue then? You actually married the girl who’s dragging all this trouble to my doorstep?”

I fucking hate this man.

“Ewan. Nice to see you,” I grit out, pissed no one gave me the heads up of who was on the fucking call. “And yes, I married the woman I care about. Let’s not forgetsheis the victim here, and it’s a corrupt cop that brought this to your doorstep. Not her.”

“Hmmm,” Ewan hums, unimpressed, his greying hair a little thinner than the last time I saw him.

“You’re right.” Leo, the oldest Marx sibling and heir to the empire steps into view. “This girl, Abbey Delaney—”

“Abbey Musgrove,” I correct him, and he nods.

“Of course, Abbey Musgrove. Sheisa victim. And while it’s unfortunate we’ve been dragged into this, we understand that Griffin and Devon are also assisting the Angel sisters regarding the situation,” Leo offers, all business, a replica of his father, only younger. “We ask that you keep that side of your business strictly between you, Griffin and Devon. They’re better equipped to handle it. And we’ll stay out of your way, as long as you deal with the police officer.” Leo glances down at a piece of paper. “Officer Ian Allen.”

“Too fucking right, we’ll deal with him,” Smitty interrupts, and I see Ewan’s jaw tick, like our very existence rubs him the wrong way.

What a pity he needs us for his operation to run smoothly.

“Any updates on the warehouse situation three weeks ago?” Ewan snaps, and it’s Spud, our VP that answers.

“Everything still points to Officer Allen.” Spud shrugs. “We’ve got nothing else to go on other than while our men were off the compound, Allen and his team showed up at the Western. Theyassaulted some of our men and women before making it real fucking clear who they were actually there for.”

“And that’s the girl, Abbey? Is that correct?” Leo asks and Smitty nods.

“Aye. It is.”

“Seems like too much of a coincidence to not be related.” Leo nods. “But what I’d like to know is when were you planning on telling us about Satan’s Rebels’ involvement?”

I swear, the fucking Earth stops spinning for a few beats.

“What the fuck do you mean?” Smitty snaps, practically shoulder-bumping me out of the way. “Satan’s Rebels aren’t fucking involved.”

Leo and Ewan share a fucking look, and I step back into frame so they can see me behind Smitty.

“Why the fuck do you think they are involved?” I demand.

“You mean besides the fact they stole from our warehouses last year?” Ewan’s face turns red as he snarls, like that was our fucking fault.

“Just because they are a rival MC, doesn’t mean they hit the warehouses last year because of us.” I point the fuck out. “Your warehouses had the biggest stockpile of PPE in the state. That’s what made them a fucking target. Not our involvement.”

Leo sighs, whispering something under his breath to his dad, before the old guy grunts and moves out of shot.

“Look, we figured you knew and were hiding it, but it’s clear you have no idea.” Leo pinches the bridge of his nose, taking a moment before continuing. “Riggs’ team found the initials, SR, scratched just under the door handles of each warehouse that went offline that day. It wasn’t picked up until later that night,but we assumed you knew about it, and were trying to cover it up.”

“Why the fuck would we cover up something like that?” JD snarls, his head snapping into frame, and Ewan steps back into view, his fucking scowl so deep it looks physically painful.

“I don’t fucking know. There are just too many fucking coincidences.” Leo waves a dismissive hand. “Just get this mess handled and quickly. Everyone has already suffered enough because of this fucking pandemic. Let’s clean shop and make sure we are all in a good position as the world reopens.”

We all nod, but Ewan just glares at the screen, and I can tell he’s pissed at his son for taking over the call.

When the call ends, Smitty starts swinging punches at thin fucking air.

“I fucking hate that arrogant cunt!” he yells, lashing out with a wild kick at nothing. “For fuck’s sake, Ringo! Have you got anything here I can fucking smash?!”

We all chuckle at our President.

“Nope, Prez. You might have to smash Celina’s cunt instead,” I tease, feeling anything but fucking happy right now.

Smitty grits his teeth and jabs a finger in my direction. “Good fucking point.”

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