Page 17 of When You Stayed
“You know, Rose…the world doesn’t revolve around you. If you’re worried about not getting a promotion, then perhaps you should be the one who leaves.”
Moving with him away from the house, I snapped harshly, “First, don’t call me Rose, my name is Royce and you know that. Second, I never suggested that it did. If you’re so positive that there’s not going to be any problems, then I guess you won’t mind if I stick around the club to ensure that.”
“Knock yourself out, sweetheart. Although, I wouldn’t want tooffend your delicate sensibilities. Things have changed since you were around it last, not even your pops or mine like to stay late because those pretty Sweetbutts like to earn their titles.”
My face flushed a horrible crimson at the picture he’d painted me. I wasn’t a prude, nor a virgin, but picturing Ford with women who entertained him the way Sweetbutts did, or bunk bunnies…it was making an odd feeling stir in my chest.
Ford walked past me, but his shoulder nudged mine on the way. I couldn’t help but glare as he moved toward his bike and mounted it. Before he left, I wanted to say something else. I needed to know that I had gotten under his skin as much as he’d gotten under mine.
Out of nowhere, I yelled, “You don’t deserve Gus!”
His smirk was like a firecracker going off in my chest. Why did he infuriate me so much?
“And you don’t deserve your dream job, and yet you’re going to make sure you get it, won’t you?” His bike started, making it impossible to reply so I flipped him the bird while he gave me another one of those smiles.
He rode off seconds later, and I realized way too late that I had just stood there watching until he was completely out of sight.
FIVE
FORD
I pulledup to the construction site with my coffee in hand and a death grip on my cell.
Apparently, our outposts had been hit overnight, and all of them had been done after our cameras were destroyed, so we had no idea who was responsible. My mood was shit, and Johnson was aware of this, which was why he was the one communicating with our crew this morning.
I eyed the name on the side of the truck and thought back to what I had said to Royce when she asked where I was working. What a fucking joke that she didn’t even know. That was typical Royce. Self-absorbed and unaware of literally anyone else around her. I didn’t just work in construction; I owned the company and employed over eighty people. She sat on her high horse about this town not changing, unaware that the club had shaped all the major changes within it.
For years she hadn’t taken up any space in my head, so it was an odd sensation to go through my workday still pondering our conversation from three days ago. She said she’d be hanging around the club from now on to ensure nothing would happen, and I’d yet to see her. I was on edge with the worry and stress that she’d randomly pop up. As much as I tried to deter her with rumors of the Sweetbutts being toowild, or the chaos of the members, the truth was I didn’t want her in the club. She was a distraction, and I didn’t know how I would respond to seeing other members around her.
I was grateful to my men who didn’t need me much as I took call after call, trying to sort through who it was that had hit our outposts. I texted Killian and Wes and informed them we needed to have a church meeting tonight to make a plan. Finally, after pissing away almost the entire workday dealing with this shit, I moved to the mobile trailer that I had set up my office in and took off my hard hat. I just needed to bury myself in actual work that wasn’t related to the club, get some new plans made up for the next phase of construction that I had in mind. I owned the company, which made cutting corners easier than they should be.
I didn’t skimp on any construction process, because I truly did plan on having the residents of Rose Ridge getting these homes. However, I buried evidence in the basements and hid bags of money inside the drywall of a few garages. I knew where it was all hidden, each and every house in about three dozen different neighborhoods. None of it was hidden at the clubhouse, so if the feds came looking, even with a warrant, they’d find shit.
My phone buzzed with a phone call, which wasn’t exactly normal especially when I saw who the caller was. I pressed my thumb to the green button and lifted the phone to my ear.
“Rook?”
He waited for a second before replying, “Ford.”
Smartass. “What’s wrong?”
“Me calling you out of the blue has to mean something’s wrong?” Rook laughed, and it made me miss my friend. He was living in London last I heard, but he moved so frequently, it was hard to keep up. It hurt when his family left, and even if they came back once a year for a big vacation, it wasn’t the same as having him here. I heard his younger brother, Ryle, was still with his mom and dad over in Italy, but my intel wasn’t always up to date.
“Yeah, sorta.”
He let out a sigh. “Unfortunately, you’re correct. Listen, I have asmuch info on this as I’m going to share, so don’t ask a bunch of follow-up questions, okay?”
That was cryptic. “Okay.”
“You know I work in tech, which means I’m always watching out for anything that could lead us to Max or whatever might hurt the club.”
“That’s so kind of you, Rook. You know you could just come home and stop being a chickenshit.”
He laughed again, and but someone yelled out a coffee order in the back, making him muffle his phone. “Do you want this tip or not?”
After the day I had, I’d take any tip that might help make sense of how we’d been hit.
“Yes.”
