So, Rush fucking Allen had to return her fucking calls.
Or she was going to have to figure something else out.
The door opened and she turned to see Chew walk in.
Christ, she couldn’t even stand the sight of him.
She thought that, but she didn’t think about the fact he now had to hang in this pisshole, what he called his “safe house,” but she actually didn’t have to hang there.
Her name was the only one now on the lease at the old place they still had.
Her name was the only one on anything now.
That said, she had no idea whose name was on this place. She just knew no one had found them there.
Though her name was not on the apartment they used to have across the street from Chaos. When shit went ballistic, Chew had done the same and she’d paid the price with her flesh. But after years of her using that place to spy on Chaos, with the cops and Chaos all over it trying to find him, they’d had to let the apartment go.
That hadn’t made Chew happy either.
And she’d paid for that too.
Harrietta could attest to the fact that Chaos was also not super pleased to learn the news that Chew had eyes on their island of motorcycle club wonder for years.
She could attest to this because she’d spoken directly to the big man himself.
Kane “Tack” Allen, the mighty president of the Chaos MC, had come calling with five men at his back.
Not one of those men had been Rush.
It took no time at all before Tack Allen had seen right through her.
This was why he’d said approximately one point five minutes into their chat, “You want him taken out maybe more than we do. All you gotta do is give him to us.”
But Tack was tight with a coupla cops, and Harrietta had no screaming desire to wear orange for whatever they might wanna pin on her. Even if she’d done dick. Chew would drag her down with him without a blink. And the animosity clouded the air, those Chaos boys were so choked with it (it was probably the spying, she really couldn’t blame them, she still had no urge to wear orange and be made somebody else’s bitch, so fuck that).
She needed a slice of Chaos she could manipulate, and Tack was absolutely not that.
It had to be a young one.
Icing on the cake was that it would be an Allen.
Chew detested Tack.
If Tack’s golden boy son led to Chew’s downfall, Chew’d choke to death on that, but it would be a slow death since he’d be choking for the rest of his days.
Harrietta liked that idea.
With two sets of cops after him for a variety of crimes, Valenzuela wanting his ass, Chaos wanting his ass, and the Bounty MC wound up in this mess and maybe finding out it was Chew who got their asses swung out there, he had to lay low. His movements were seriously hindered.
He still went out at night because he was a dumbfuck.
And she still was at his safe house when he got there, as ordered.
Harrietta didn’t think on this, so she hadn’t come to the realization it came from years of conditioning.
She could run.
This time, he could not follow. He had some money left from what he thought were the “Glory Days of Chaos.” The days before Tack cleaned up the Club, when they pimped and ran guns and sold pot. But he had no leverage left with the players he used and left hanging to try to bring down Chaos.
What he did have was cops and criminals alike wanting him taken out, one way or another.
But she did not run.
She stayed instead, because that was what she’d always done.
But now she did it while she plotted.
He’d taught her that. The plotting.
He’d lived years for vengeance, and Harrietta had lived them with him.
So she’d learned that real good.
But now it was her who was living for vengeance.
Vengeance for Cammy.
Vengeance for years of putting up with his fucking creepy spiders.
Vengeance for years of taking his shit.
“Bed, bitch,” he ordered, slamming the door shut behind him. “I’m in the mood to fuck.”
She stared hard at his face.
Shit.
He’d done something fucked up.
He only got that worked up when he’d done something psycho.
This was gonna hurt.
In the end, he took her ass unlubed.
When he was done and snoring, she was in the bathroom, bleeding.