Page 33 of Devil's Own: Roughneck

“Not for me to worry about?” I throw my hands out. “I think it’s very much something for me to worry about.”

Sarge pulls out his phone. Given what Rough told me about Sarge’s old Raiders unit working as private contractors out of Miami, I’d be willing to bet that’s who he’s calling—someone from his old unit. With a leak in the club, they wouldn’t want to bring in another friendly MC. That would just put another club in danger like the Brimstone Lords. If it were me, I’d bring in help trained to keep a low profile.

I let Rough take me to get some food, though I’m not very hungry, and we find a hotel while the men arrange to get a dumpster over to the house so we can throw out everything ruined, which is the majority of my things.

The next day we pack. It’s all so surreal. Almost my whole life amounts to nothing more thantrashin adumpster. Half the morning, I fight back tears and the other, trying to keep my temper in check. The brothers end up renting a much smaller truck than what they’d intended when we started this trip. Knuckles and the other men drive my stuff back to Middlesboro. This is after the police walked through the mess and made the report. I call my landlord to let him know I’m leaving and about the break-in. At the very least, he’ll have to change out the back patio door.

Rough calls Horace to open the house for the movers. “He has a key to your place?”

“We keep ’em at the club. Makes it easier when we have to go out of town.”

“See you back home in a couple of days,” my brother says to Rough, patting him on the arm. Then to me, he says, “Keep Nic company, yeah?”

I nod but ask, “You’re not coming back?”

“Heading down to Miami. Got a meet with Sarge’s men. We’ll be home after that.” Ah—so I was right.

Before Rough pulls me away, I walk over to my brother, hugging him fiercely. “Be careful,” I whisper.

“Always am.”

Right.

I let my man take my hand to lead me back to his truck. Once we’re inside alone, he tips my chin up to look at him. “Talk to me, babe. Where’s your head at?”

“I’m worried.”

“You have to trust us, Gee. Trust the process.”

“I trust you. That doesn’t mean I’m not worried. You can still get hurt.”

“What if I promise to come home safe to my woman?”

“Don’t promise if you aren’t serious. I take promises seriously.”

He bends in to kiss me.

“Let’s go home.”

11

After a day at the garage, I walk into the house, smelling the fried chicken hanging in the air. My mouth begins to water as I slip off my boots before heading up the stairs to see Gee mashing potatoes at the stove. She used the new air fryer I bought her after moving up here since the vandals ruined the one she previously owned for the chicken.

The woman’s a phenomenal cook. She’s been here a month now and I swear I’ve gained ten pounds strictly from her feeding me. Gee lays the masher on the cupboard and grabs a towel, wiping her hands as she turns to me, smiling.

There’s no better high than having the woman you’re falling for smile at you when you come home from work like there’s no one else in the world she’d rather see at that moment.

“Perfect timing,” she says, stepping up to me and lifting her arms to wrap them around my neck.

“I’m dirty, baby.”

“Don’t care,” she replies before pulling my face down to kiss me. She doesn’t. She’d rather change her top than not kiss me when I get home from work. I've never seen a more beautiful woman, even barefoot with her hair up in a messy bun on top of her head, wearing leggings and a V-neck T-shirt.

Shit, she just does it for me.

“Go shower. I’ll get the food on the table.”

That’s another thing I do differently. Living alone, I never once sat at a dining table, opting for the sofa because why not? With Gee here, we sit and eat at the table every night. I like it. No television allowed. We talk. We enjoy each other’s company. It was a rule she brought Waite up with. The kid got lucky with her as a mom. Any kid would be lucky to have her as a mom.

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