Page 62 of Inglorious
“I’ll do more if you don’t confess you like Meadow!” I hissed and banged his head again. Chill thrust his body up but couldn’t dislodge me.
“Inglorious!” he shouted as I sucked my finger and shoved it in his ear. Childish for sure, but Chill began squirming.
“Meadow likes you,” I said, and Chill froze mid-buck.
“What?” Interest crossed his face before Chill hid it. Aha! I knew it!
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Chill refuted, and I banged his head for a third time.
“Meadow likes you, but she’s too shy to say anything. As much as you watch Meadow, she watches you. But, Chill, Meadow’s been hurt and needs a good man.”
Chill’s body stiffened, and with a mighty heave, knocked me off. “Yeah, Meadow needs a good man. That isn’t me, Nanci. I’m bad news.”
With that, Chill disappeared. I stared after him in shock. Why would Chill say that? My gaze sought and found Inglorious’s, and I saw him standing with Willow. They were both talking and watching me, amused.
“Did he win?” Inglorious called, and I realised he’d not heard what Chill had said.
“Nope! Not yet, anyway!” I replied and scrambled to my feet.
Willow smiled as I hugged her. I didn’t know Willow very well, but I had met her a few times. She’d lost her man in the war. Dan Grey had been a former FBI agent who’d been prospecting for Rage MC. Dan had given his life to save Drake’s daughter. Willow had fled Rapid City and stayed away for a year. Fanatic, Drake’s son, had brought her back, and something was developing between them, according to the chatter between the clubs.
“Are you staying for lunch? We have an amazing cook, and Meadow’s food is out of this world,” I asked, and Willow nodded.
“That would be nice. We can catch up on gossip. Like how nobody knows that you’re Inglorious’s old lady!” Willow replied.
“I discovered that fact about twenty minutes ago.” I chuckled.
Inglorious snorted. “My two favourite ladies are going to gang up on me,” he announced, not seemingly bothered, and hugged us both.
“Yet somehow I don’t think you’re that upset,” Willow said, and he shrugged.
“Not in the slightest. I’m a glutton for beautiful women and don’t intend to share either of you!” Inglorious teased, and I thumped his stomach.
Willow’s visit had done Inglorious some good, I noted. Two wounded souls who’d reached out for comfort and friendship. Maybe they’d both heal a bit more. I could only hope so.
Inglorious
“Boss,” a voice called, and I looked up and saw Gravey heading towards me. It was the day after Willow had arrived, and I’d had a second date with Nanci last night. Happily, I was still in the afterglow. However, my cock failed to behave. Every time I thought about Nanci, the fuckin’ thing twitched. I’d had a boner half the morning.
“What’s wrong?” I demanded seeing Gravey’s expression.
“You need to come.”
“Dude, talk to me,” I said, guessing this was urgent. Gravey wouldn’t be here otherwise.
“You gotta see this.”
“Where?”
“The graveyard,” Gravey replied, and I heard the distress in his voice. With a sharp nod, I followed Gravey as he spun on his heel and marched away. Nanci’s worried gaze caught me as I strode behind him, and I shook my head. For Gravey to enter town, it was fuckin’ serious. I didn’t need him to lose the plot because strangers were crowding him.
Nanci nodded, and I smiled slightly and chased after the rapidly disappearing man. That meant a lot that Nanci was going to trust me to handle this. Gravey was walking at a fast, clipped pace. It was obvious he didn’t want to interact with the people milling about. He kept his head down and refused to make eye contact with anyone.
Gravey reached the edge of town and headed to the distant church and cemetery. I caught up, but Gravey wasn’t in atalkative mood. As we neared, I spotted what had upset him so much and exhaled a sharp hiss. Red, green and blue paint had been smeared over the iron fence and thrown on the ground. Even worse, the church had also been defiled too, and there were words I couldn’t quite make out at this distance.
My gaze flew to the memorial for our fallen brothers and the gravestones. Agonised, I stopped and bent over as pain hit me, taking my breath away. There was paint all over the black glossy stones. I glanced back up, and the image hadn’t changed, and I broke into a run as grief struck me. Why would anyone desecrate this?
The level of destruction became clearer as I rushed through the iron gate, which had been broken off a hinge and was barely hanging on. Everywhere I looked was ruined. Painted on the walls of the church were words like ‘murderers, rot in hell, liars, killers, death to you all, the devil is coming for you.’
