Page 101 of King
“Ella, what you heard yesterday, none of it was true. It was an act, sugar. I was…dammit, I was trying to divert attention from you to keep you safe. I didn’t mean any of it. Not one fuckin’ word, I swear. Please call me.”
I dropped the phone in my lap and covered my face as I sobbed. I felt arms surrounding me from all sides and knew that Camille and Kim were there to support me, just as they always had.
When my tears subsided, they sat down and listened as I explained the contents of the messages. When I told them about the timing of the first message – the one about threats – Kim clenched her jaw and angrily tapped her fingertips on the table.
“I have no idea what the fuck was going with that club of his, but it sounds like something scared the hell out of him. First,” she ticked off one finger, “you need to talk to him to find out what happened, so you can make sure you’re going to be safe when you go back to Indy. Second,” she ticked another finger, “you can ask him why the fuck he said that shit. And third,” she clenched her hand into a tight fist, “if you don’t like his answers, I’m going to give you my brand-new chef’s knife and let you filet his dick like you threatened to in the first damned place.”
I had to laugh as Camille seconded that plan, then added, “I wonder if Amazon will do a same-day delivery on that Luminol and black light kit you told us about. A fileted dick is going to bleed profusely, and we don’t want to leave any trace evidence behind.”
I waited another forty-five minutes before working up the nerve to text Dante, telling him I was ready to talk. I asked him to come over at noon, and he’d immediately agreed.
Dante: Thank you for giving me a chance to explain, sugar. I’ll see you at noon.
That gave me just over an hour to fortify the walls around my heart, and to make sure that no traces of the pain he’d caused were visible on my face.
Kim and Camille declared themselves my fairy godmothers and set out to make me look and feel fabulous. Kim opened her refrigerator and pulled out a gel face mask containing green tea and cucumber and clapped it over my face, instructing me to leave it on for ten minutes to get rid of the evidence of my sobfest.
She raided her closet next, pulling out a shirt that I knew would cling to my boobs, given the fact that she was two cup sizes smaller than me.
“It’s the perfect shade of blue to match your eyes, hon. The asshole won’t know what hit him when he sees you in this.”
I heard his voice in my head again, telling Cowboy that gravity is a bitch when it comes to the female body, and resolutely pushed the thought away. There would be time to dwell on that later, once I knew why he’d said it in the first place.
Once the face mask had worked it’s magic, they started working on my hair and makeup, much as they had last night.
By the time I smoothed Kim’s shirt down over my favorite jeans, I felt ready to face him. Well, as ready as I was going to be, anyway.
He arrived five minutes early. I tensed as I heard his bike pull up to the curb. He killed the engine, and then moments later, I took a deep breath as he rang the doorbell. Kim answered the door with Camille on her heels. They had a fiercely whispered conversation with him for a minute or so, which I knew likely included threats. I waited in the hallway until they called out that they would be waiting on the back patio, in case I needed them.
That was my cue, and I slowly turned the corner and walked into the living room, to find Dante standing there with one hand shoved in his pocket and the other running through his hair. From the looks of it, he’d done that a lot today.
I took satisfaction in the fact that he looked like hell. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his face looked strangely pale for a man so tanned. His jaw was set, and his beard looked a little scruffy compared to the neat trim that I was used to.
“Thank you for agreeing to see me,” he ground out, his voice rougher than usual. I nodded, then gestured to the couch. He sat down, looking disappointed when I chose to sit in one of the side chairs that flanked the couch, rather than next to him.
“Explain.” He inhaled sharply as I uttered the demand for the one thing I wanted…answers.
“There was a threat made by a former club member who was angry with me. He’s strung out on meth now, and he’s completely lost his shit. He threatened to go after you. When we couldn’t find you, I tried to divert his attention away from you by pretending that you didn’t matter to me.”
“Why was he angry with you?” I could tell by the look on his face that Dante hadn’t expected that question.
He hesitated, then shook his head. “I can’t tell you more than I already did. It’s club business, but it’s taken care of now, so –“
“Club business?” I interrupted with a screech. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? Yourclub businesssounds a hell of a lot likemybusinessif it involves a threat tome.”
“It’s handled, Ella. You don’t have to worry about it anymore. You’re safe now.”
“How was it handled?”
He hesitated again, then sighed. “That’s club –
“I swear to God, if I hear you use that fucking excuse one more time, it will be the last thing you ever get the chance to say to me.” I shouted, then stood up and started pacing the room.
He stood as well, his eyes flashing with anger as he squared his shoulders. “It’s not an excuse, goddammit. Club business means that the club handled something in a way that could come back and bite us in the ass. If you don’t know about it, you can’t be asked about it by the cops or be threatened with it by our enemies.”
“Really? Well, apparently, I was being threatened anyway, so what’s the damned difference?”
“Dammit, Ella, I…” he dropped his head and sighed. “Look, I’m trying to protect you.”
