I help Mum for a few hours and then I head home after picking up veggies for dinner. My night ahead will consist of a slow-cooked potato and cauliflower curry, a long bath with candles and a guided meditation, and a new book by Trisha Wolfe I picked up today. But first, a phone call with King because I can’t wait until he comes home to have this conversation.
He answers almost immediately. “Zara. You good?”
His protective ways mean the world to me, but goodness it must be exhausting to always be on alert. “I’m good. Are you?” I ask him that even though I know he will never tell me if he’s not.
Today he doesn’t even bother acknowledging the question; that tells me everything. “What do you need?”
“I want to say something to you and I just want you to listen. I don’t expect you to say anything back, but I hope you’ll think about what I say.”
“Okay.” His reply is gruff, but he at least gives it to me. I’d half expected him to resist.
“The night I was mugged, I was also raped. Not by the same man, but by a guy I’d gone home with from the club. My brain didn’t allow me to accept it as rape, though. I believed it was all on me.”
“Fuck.” The word falls through the phone harshly and I feel King’s emotions from it alone.
“Fast forward a couple of months and I was losing myself to post-traumatic stress. That was when you encouraged me to see a psychologist. It was also the beginning of my friendship with Fury.” I pause. “It was Fury who helped me see the rape for what it was. It was Fury who made sure I told the psychologist about it. And it was Fury who offered me the kind of friendship a male never had. King, he wanted nothing except to help me. And then, where other guys wanted pretty much just sex from me, Fury refused to touch me until I was ready for that.”
“Zara,” he says, his dark energy straining through the phone. “What happened between you two isn’t something I want to know about. This shit is between Fury and me.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. You’re removing me from the equation when I’m the one smack bang in the middle of it. You’re thinking of this purely from a club perspective when you need to be thinking of this with your father hat on.”
“This has nothing to do with my job as your father and everything to do with the fact one of my club members went against me.”
“He went against you outside of the club, and I get that your club is your family, but can you get that you’re my dad and right now I need you to see how this is affecting our relationship.” I take a deep breath before continuing. “One of my regrets in life is that I didn’t get the chance to fix my relationship with my dad before he died. We both played our part in that, but when he tried to fix what he’d broken, I pushed him away. I wish now that I hadn’t, and I refuse to allow my relationship with you to go down that same path. Please think about what I’m saying because I need my father back.” My
voice cracks as I think about our relationship staying strained. I’ll be devastated if that happens.
I hear some commotion on his end before he says, “Fuck, I have to go.”
“Just promise me you’ll think about what I’ve said.”
He takes a beat but then he says, “I will.”
I stare at my phone after he ends the call and pray he does think about it. I pray that something I said resonates with him and helps him open his eyes in a new way.
45
Fury
* * *
It’s been three days since Winter started searching for the rat in his club. So far he’s uncovered nothing. We also aren’t any closer to learning new information about Zenith. It’s been three long days of visiting assholes who might know something about the gang and forcing them to talk. It’s also been three long days of handling club business. Storm needs the cash injection after losing too much of it to Zenith. We’re making bank while we can because none of us have any doubt Zenith will be back in business soon.
“Get some sleep soon, brother,” Winter says just before midnight as he heads out of the clubhouse bar where he’s been talking with King. “We’ve got another long day tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” I agree, although I don’t see much sleep in my future. Not with all the shit rattling around my brain.
The clubhouse is quiet and almost empty. As far as I’m aware, there’s only the three of us here. Winter sent everyone home to their families earlier and is heading home to his old lady, too. He’s walking a fine line between getting shit done and making sure the club doesn’t collapse due to exhaustion and low morale. From what I’ve seen, I’d say he’s succeeding, but every passing week that we’re dealing with these motherfuckers chips away at the club.
After he leaves, I eye King. The last few days have been tense. Not only for the club but for him and me. We haven’t spoken, not even to discuss club stuff. It’s a weird fucking place to be with him after a decade of working so closely together.
I stand and make my way over to him. We have shit to talk about that can’t wait any longer.
As I take the seat Winter vacated, he meets my gaze, but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to; the air I’m now breathing is filled with bitterness.
“I’m not staying in Melbourne forever.”
The vein in his temple twitches. “I’ll decide that.”