Page 7 of Royce

“Oh, of course. Here’s a check, I hope that’s alright. Please let me know when you’re up and running again,” Nikki says, stowing the boxes in her trunk. Her early shift at the hospital hasnecessitated a special pick up time, not that it bothers me, since I’m up anyway.

“The kitchen is functional and clean!” I call out, attempting to reassure her, but even I can hear the desperation in my voice.

Behind me, I hear Royce barking out orders and I turn to see a couple women with sulky looks, along with four bulky guys coming in from the back of my shop.

“Royce?!” I huff out.

“Baby, I told ya, you don’t gotta lift a finger,” he calls out as scantily dressed women start to sweep up the floor and a guy breaks away the rest of the glass left in the frame.

Oh no. I thought the wordscantily. It’s like I’m a twenty-one-year-old version of my grandmother.

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and try counting to ten.

Wait, what number do you count to when you’re not sure if you’re going to murder someone or lose your mind? Ten doesn’t seem high enough.

“You’re in the way,” a woman tells me, sounding thoroughly annoyed.

I apologize and move toward the back. I’m just behind the counter when I realize that I shouldn’t act like a scolded school girl. It’s my goddamn store!

Royce looks at me from the doorway of the bathroom and I narrow my eyes at him.

“Told you I’d take care of everything, sugar.” He smirks at me.

“I’m calling the sheriff. I’m not okay…” Quick as a snake, his arm loops around my waist and he pulls me out the back door.

“Mols, you gotta work with me here. I fucked up, but I’m making it right, there’s no need to involve Michaels and your insurancecompany. I don’t want any blowback on the MC.” He has me pinned against the wall and looks at me so earnestly.

I must be losing what’s left of my mind, because my entire body reacts to the sincerity I hear in his voice and see in his eyes. My nipples feel like they’ve hardened into points and I can’t resist the pull I feel in that moment. Without making a conscious decision I start to lean up to meet him halfway, at least until he pukes.

Royce barely has time to turn his head as an Exorcist-worthy stream of vomit spews from his body, hitting my shoulder, then the wall beyond me.

Holy. Mother. Of. GOD.

What was I thinking?

I loathe this man.

One look at the mess on my arm has me heaving, about ready to join him from the smell and sight of what he’s done. I swear I hear my uncle’s voice in my head singing out:This is what happens when you ignore your better judgment.

“It’s too fucking early for this shit.” I hear a growl from behind me and I see Flint looking at Royce in disgust.

Holding onto my last piece of dignity, I strip my apron off, thankful for the tank top below it and ball it up as I keep my eyes pinned on Flint. I simply cannot deal with vomit, never could, so right now, the stern expression on his face is definitely the lesser of two evils.

“He promised to fix this, that he doesn’t want Michaels involved—I want everything settled by tomorrow or I will burn your clubhouse to the ground!” I bellow at Flint. Besides being my landlord, I would typically consider him to be friendly, but I’m beyond that right in this moment. Stomping past him to goupstairs and shower, I can’t help adding, the obvious. “Hepukedon me!”

Chapter 2

Molly

An hour later, the noise from downstairs has died down and I wait another half an hour, not so much to pull myself together as to avoid seeing anyone who witnessed my tantrum.

The kitchen is spotless.

There is no sign of any of my baked goods, except the special orders labeled in the refrigerator.

Peeking past the counter, I see plywood in place of my window and Flint sitting at a table, drinking a coffee. A pile of cash in front of him.

“This is what I figured you would have made today,” he says, calmly indicating the money. “I had the goods delivered to Northern Grizzlies families. A new window is on order, and I’ll need the information about your signage.”

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