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When Uncle Tony informed me that we were headed back to White Summer Montana to attend the grand opening of the Poison Pen, I felt as if I were punched in the gut.
Very similar to the way I felt when our eyes connected that day several months ago when she came strolling into the Wolfsbane Ridge club house.
Finding out that her brother was the sergeant at arms for the club whose girls had been kidnapped and sold into trafficking by Joey, surprised the hell out of me. And I don’t like fucking surprises!
I tried to make excuses as to why I should stay in New Orleans but none of them worked. Uncle Tony was going to relent but Aunt Morgania got that little shit eating grin on her face right before she told Uncle that she would only feel completely safe if I were there with them.
So here I am at the airport loading our bags into the rental car as Uncle calls to check on our reservations at Wolf’s Ridge which is owned by the club.
“Our cabins are ready for us. After we drop off our luggage you can leave me at the clubhouse. I have a meeting scheduled with Timber. I think your Aunt wants you to take her into town.” Uncle Tony looks over at my Aunt with raised brows.
“Yes please. If it’s not too much trouble for you Baratta. All the girls are at Bella’s Brew.”
“It’s not a problem Aunty.” I say while looking at her through the rearview mirror which makes her smile.
Calling her Aunty in private has always put a smile on her face. No one outside our family knows the truth of who I am. I prefer it that way so that those I love can not be used against me.
The kind of work that I am in comes with hazards that can get my family killed. Hell, it can get me killed. I don’t worry about any of that though. I have zero guilt when it comes to putting a bullet into someone. I actually never think of them again.
While I don’t feel shit when it comes to others, I know my rage would take over if anything happened to my Aunt and Uncle. My cousin too.
I’m really fond of Markayla. She was always really sweet to me when we were younger. The other kids and even the teachers treated me like shit. They said something was wrong with me.
Especially after the day I hit another kid in the head with a rock busting his head open. He had pushed Markayla down on the playground making her knee bleed. I refused to say I was sorry for what I did to him because hell, I wasn’t sorry at all.
All these years later and I’m still not sorry.