Page 10 of Damaged Hearts
I hate this. I hate this club. I hate this life.
Luckily, my mom is chopping up vegetables when we enter the kitchen. At first she smiles at seeing me, but as soon as her eyes settle on Laura, she stiffens.
“What’s going on?” she demands as she puts down the knife, her violet eyes full of concern.
“I’ll explain later, but keep Laura in here with you. I need to go talk to Dennis.” Hell would have to freeze over before I ever call that man my dad. I always stick to his first name or his nick name. “If anyone gives you trouble, tell them you’re under my orders, got it?”
“You know how few people actually listen to your orders.” My mom assesses as she gently pulls Laura into her side, like the protective momma bear she is.
My mom knows how truly powerless she is, but she still tries her best, even if that’s in vain. That’s why she’s always my go-to for anything. She may not succeed, but she will always try her best.
“It’ll protect your ass, Mom.”
The softness that grows in her eyes is something I’m all too familiar with. Davina Devereaux has a kind soul, but protection is something she isn’t used to, even after all the years I’ve been trying to keep her safe. I swear, as soon as Browning steps down, I’m retiring her before I do anything else. She doesn’t need this shit.
“Just keep her in here and out of sight, okay?”
My mom nods and Laura gives me a look that is equal parts appreciation and crippling fear. I want to tell her everything is going to be alright, but I hate lying and both of us know that’s what it would be.
Instead, I turn and walk out of the kitchen. I beeline straight for our newest patched member, Rafael Sosa. Being new means he listens to me. He’s smarter than the others. He knows even though Browning is the current president, I’m going to be taking over soon and he wants to win my favor. Not to mention, he’s not a half-bad guy.
“Raf, do me a favor,” I say as I smack his shoulder.
His eyes dart to mine, eager to please. “What do you need, boss?” he asks.
“Don’t let anyone go in the kitchen until I get back. I’ll be a minute.” He nods and walks over to the door of the kitchen, pulling out his phone.
As if he doesn’t look suspicious as hell just standing there.
I have to make this quick. The longer I leave my mom and Laura, the worse the results could be.
I walk through the living room and down the hall to my father’s office. I push the door open and find Browning on the phone.
“I’ll call you tomorrow with an update, but the concoction worked like a charm. She had no idea…” he pauses when he sees me standing in the doorway. His eyes narrow with mild irritation.
What the fuck was he talking about? A concoction? What is he mixed up in?
“I gotta go. Thanks for the help, Trapper.” He hangs up the phone and stares at me expectantly.
Why the fuck is he talking to the founding father of the Black Stallions? Is something going on I’m not aware of?
“Everything alright?” I ask as I step inside.
He nods. “What took you so long?”
“Her ribs were bruised up pretty bad. I had to deal with her injuries before I could get her in my truck,” I explain, barely managing to keep the anger and hatred out of my voice. Laura has those injuries because of him.
I shouldn’t give a damn about her pain and I wouldn’t if I was whohewants me to be. Thank God I’m not.
“You’re so damn soft, Xander. Just like your mother.” He groans with displeasure while rubbing his temple.
I take that as a compliment. Soft translates to emotions, compassion, and understanding. I have sympathy for the innocent—those who aren’t guilty or my enemy. Laura is innocent. So is my mother, my brother…my sister was innocent.
My mood shifts from frustration to sadness.
My little sister, Cheyenne, was innocent. I have no idea what she is now. I never had the chance to meet her because, the second she was born, my father forced my mom to give her up.
No little girls in my home.