Divided (Unguarded #2) (12 page)

Three months of hell with the sickest motherfuckers around and I was ready to punch skulls and fill them up with bullet holes. I grit my teeth while scrubbing over the short beard I’ve grown the past few months while undercover. The whole time listening to Lucio Marino drag on about some bullshit that doesn’t have a fucking thing to do with this meeting between me, him, his father and Cannon, the president of the Misery’s Angels Motorcycle Club.

My palms begin to sweat as I glance around the inside of Sweet Tarts during the day. It’s quiet, dull, not as filthy but the air still reeks of pussy and stale beer. I wipe my hands on my pants and keep them by my side in an effort not to jump over the table and rip Lucio’s tongue out of his goddamn throat. I mask my frustration by pretending to listen while my heart beats to an unsteady rhythm. This is the first meeting we’ve had in Sweet Tarts and although it seemed Ali no longer worked here, it doesn’t stop my stomach from churning or the feeling of time slowing down because this meeting feels like the longest in the fuckin’ history of gun trades. I just had to pray our intel was solid because the day I went undercover as a new trafficker in town it made checking up on Ali every now and again, impossible. It was a risk I couldn’t take.

Thoughts of Ali take a backseat when Cannon jumps in and his arguing with Lucio grows loud. I stand from my seat, ready to cut this meeting short and get the hell out of here.

“All due respect gentlemen, but I got places to be and your territory issues don’t involve me. You want me to get those guns to you Thursday, let me know. You don’t want them, I’ll find someone else who does. I’ve got shit to do,” I say with a calmness in my tone, all sweat and nerves hidden.

The three men silence at once. A vein in Lucio’s forehead ticks as he drills holes into me. Sometimes it’s as if recognition flashes in his eyes and I worry he remembers my face—from the first night I met Ali and he had her followed, to the nights I spent here gathering more information on him and his family.

Giuseppe looks like he’s ready to kill me for interrupting and Cannon stares at me like he always does, with curious eyes. There’s something about that guy I just can’t place.

I stand tall, showing no fear but eyeing off every man in the room to prepare for Giuseppe’s next move.

His eyes widen and his lips turn upward into the slimy, phony smile he wears so well. “Ah… Mr. King, I apologize for my son. He never knows when to shut up. The guns are yours. But first, have a drink with me. I insist.” He turns to Lucio after addressing me with my undercover name. “Lucio, have your girl come take our drink order.”

I pretend to check the time on my watch when Lucio yells out something in Italian. “I really have to go.”

“Sit,” he demands with fake niceties that scream
if you don’t fucking sit I’m gonna blow your head right off your shoulders.

I sit back down in the booth and Giuseppe starts spouting about alliances, trust, and loyalty in this business. My mouth tightens and I’m too busy trying not to visibly cringe at the bullshit he’s spouting that I barely register the half-naked waitress nearing our table.

She lifts her head. “What can I…” she pauses as her eyes land on mine, and I swear if it were possible I’d say both our hearts stopped in that second.

“What can I get for you?”

Shock. Fear. Dread. Reprisal.

This is it.

This moment would define our futures, what comes next. Two paths. Two options. But only one ending to ensure Ali’s safety.

My hands begin to shake. But nobody notices. Giuseppe, Lucio, and Cannon are too busy talking like the world isn’t about to come crashing down around us when Lucio realizes who the man across the table from him really is.

Roamyn. Here. In Sweet Tarts.

Shock holds me captive. His eyes lock me in place. A lump lodges in my throat, the pain cutting off my voice. I can’t speak. I can’t move, my limbs are heavy and stiff. Roamyn turns his head from one side to the other. Slow. Steady. With eyes as hard as steel. No emotion. Just a demand, yet barely a movement.
Don’t say anything. Don’t act weird. Don’t give them any inclination.

Giuseppe’s bellowing laugh knocks shock through me and I jump in fright. The men notice me. Lucio narrows his gaze on me. I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out over the beat of my racing pulse.

“Alison, my dear. Be a good girl and get us drinks will you?”

I release the breath I was holding and air floods my lungs. Giuseppe’s ignorance and lack of care for anyone but himself has never been such a blessing.

I hesitate in my nod, terror controlling every movement. Plastering on a smile that’s more of a grimace, I pray nobody notices a tremor rack through me.

But praying had never gotten me anywhere before. Why did I expect it to now?

I shove open the door to the bathroom and spin around to lock it. Leaning my head back against it, I close my eyes trying to regain control over my hammering heart. My lungs continue to work in overdrive as thoughts accelerate in my mind. Did Lucio just notice my slip up at the table? I thread my hands through my hair and pace back and forth. Why is he here? Why now after all this time? Fixing myself up, I breathe in courage I don’t have because I have to fake it. At least until I can get out of here. My life may depend on it.

After calming myself, I move back out and start wiping down the edge of the bar. I call out to Lucio sitting at the other end by himself now his meeting is over and the other men have gone. “My shift’s over. Lindy will be out in a minute so I’m going home.”

“Whatever,” he replies without taking his eyes off the paperwork in front of him. Fear of him noticing my hiccup before with Roamyn fades, but it doesn’t calm my nerves. This past year his interest in me has dwindled to the point he barely looks twice at me, and I’m no longer forced to work at the club nearly every damn day of the week. But I’m still not allowed to go far. I know too much. I’ve seen too much. There are secrets everywhere in this city. Everyone is somehow in bed with their enemy. Trust is broken. Loyalty becomes a foreign concept. No one survives without keeping secrets and breaking a few laws. It’s not right. It’s not wrong. It’s just reality.

I slap down the towel and grab my stuff so I can get out of here as fast as I can. I ignore the craving for a hit to squash my nerves, help me process whatever the hell just happened because I know he won’t be far. I know Roamyn will be waiting for me and the last thing I need is to be high in the presence of a cop. Even if the cop is Roamyn. Unease winds me up tight. I can’t shake the feeling that this is just the beginning.

A black SUV pulls into the curb just ahead of me. My heart skips. Roamyn used to own one of them. My pace picks up a little faster and the dark window slides down revealing Roamyn inside the driver’s side.

“Get in,” he demands from behind his aviator sunglasses.

I look both ways down the street and when I see no one I recognize, I jump in the other side and we pull straight out into traffic.

I turn to him. “What the hell was that?”

He doesn’t look at me. Just stares ahead, his face is devoid of any emotion.

“I don’t have time to explain. I’m taking you in. This time, I’m not giving you a choice. You move from that seat and I’ll arrest you.”

I shake my head in disbelief.
What the hell?
“No. I deserve to know why.”

He ignores me.

“Hey,” I snap. My patience is wearing thin, confusion spiraling crazy thoughts filling my head with conspiracies. “Tell me what’s going on or I
am
getting out of this car.”