“Thank you.”
Nodding, I looked over at Ghost, who had a shit-eating grin on his face. “Tell Player and Phantom to meet me in church in fifteen minutes.”
I didn’t bother waiting for Sunny to walk as I picked her up bridal style and carried her upstairs myself. After depositing her next to her sister and getting rid of everyone else in the room, I left Sunny alone with Remi.
Going back downstairs, I headed for church and sighed when I noticed it was blissfully quiet. Sitting in my seat at the front of the table, I took a few minutes to clear my head.
I knew having Remi’s siblings in the clubhouse wasn’t ideal, but I didn’t trust anyone with them at the house, not even if my mother was there, and she offered. The kids were taking everything in stride, and I was thankful for that. What I needed was Remi to wake up and start telling me what to do. I didn’t like feeling as if I was always second-guessing myself. I hated indecisions and where those kids were concerned. That was precisely how I felt.
The longer Remi slept, the more I worried she’d never wake up. I knew there was nothing physically wrong with her. She had been medically cleared. With her still sleeping, I was beginning to wonder what the fuck did they do to her in Louisiana. I imagined the worst, and that just fueled my demon. The fact of the matter was that other than knowing they violated her and the physical wounds she received, I didn’t realize the psychological damage that was done to her. Healer agreed what happened had to be immense, and only Remi could tell us to what extent when she woke up.
If she woke.
“Reaper, we have a problem,” Player said, walking in church with Phantom, Ghost, Massacre, and Viper behind them.
Sighing, I tilted my head back, groaning. “What now?”
“Pavlov?” Phantom said, sitting down and opening her laptop. I wondered if the damn thing was attached to her. Did she take it with her to shit? Did she sleep with it? Every time I saw her, she had that damn machine with her. “The fucker had a tracker in him. My fault, really. I should have figured that out when he kept quiet. He was too smug, always laughing at us. I’ve removed it and destroyed it, but I am positive they have our location.”
“So?”
Phantom looked at Player, who shrugged his shoulders. She then turned back to me and said, “So, his organization knows where he is at. More specifically, who has him.”
“So?”
“Reaper, this is the Bratva. I am talking about the Russian Mob, the worst criminals to ever walk the earth. They don’t talk. They kill,” Player added, trying to clarify what Phantom was saying, but I already knew what it meant. Trouble was coming. It always was. At least this time, I had a heads up, so that was a plus. The fact of the matter was, I didn’t give a shit. If the Bratva wanted to come into my territory and cause trouble, then let them. My demon was still bloodthirsty. The soul I wanted was still missing, my woman was still in some fucking sleep state because of him, and I had a kid on the way that I had no fucking clue how to raise. Yeah, my plate was full. Full of bullshit, and I was tired of it.
“And?”
Massacre added, “Boss, are you not listening. We are going to have company soon and not the kind that wants tea.”
This shit was never going to end. I was getting sick and tired of everyone thinking they could walk into my compound and do whatever the fuck they wanted. This club wasn’t some pansy-ass girls club. It was comprised of hardened criminals, bloodthirsty men, killers. They were supposed to look death in the eyes and laugh. Men who didn’t take shit from anyone. Yet, looking at the scared bitches before me, I wondered when they started pissing sitting down.
“What about Reynolds?” I asked, looking at Phantom.
“Who cares about him. The fucking Russian Mob is on their way to get their leader!” Massacre shouted, making Phantom jump.
That was it.
Enough!
And that right there was when my demon roared. I was done being the bitch boy for others who think they knew better. I was at my limit.
No more.
Enough of this shit.
Getting to my feet, I stretched, then walked out of church and headed for the basement where Sergio Pavlov had been getting the royal treatment. Walking down the stairs, I ignored Healer, who was stocking some shelves and entered the guest bedroom. Well, more like a cell, with no bars or windows. Hell, it didn’t even have a bed. Just a metal chair bolted to the floor. Flinging the door open, the man of the hour spit in my direction. Grinning, I shook my head, reached for my blades, slashing them through the air, slicing the fucker in half. Turning swiftly, I extended my arm, cutting through his neck, as his head went flying in the air. As his blood spewed throughout the room, I turned, damn near bumped into Ghost and Player, who stood slack-jawed. “Problem fixed. Slice and dice the motherfucker and burn the pieces.”
“Healer walked over, looked inside the room, then at the clock and said, “Time of death, 3:47pm.”
Nodding, I headed back upstairs as Ghost, Player, Massacre and Viper were all yelling and arguing that I had just made a big mistake. For the last couple of weeks, I fought indecision, hysteria, loneliness, fear, guilt, inadequacies, and so much more, and I was tired of it all. I was fed up with people telling me what I could do and couldn’t do. I was tired of being yanked along on a fucking leash like a damn dog. Mostly I was tired of doing what everyone thought I should do. I was the fucking President of the God Damned Golden Skulls! My word was law. I made the decisions. I made the fucking rules. Rounding on my brothers, I shouted. “I am the fucking president of this damn club. I rule. You follow. I say who lives and who fucking dies! Now stop being pussies and grow a pair. We got incoming, then be fucking men and take care of it! I’ve got enough shit to deal with. All of you have gotten complacent. Well, that shit ends now. We are fucking Golden Skulls. We take care of our own with blood. That’s our motto. Blood before others. Own it. Live it. Breathe it. If not, get the fuck out of my club! Understood?”
My brothers silently nodded their heads.
“If one more person doubts my ability to lead, I will reap your fucking soul. Now go clean up that fucking mess downstairs before I hear Healer bitch about a decomposing body. Then lock down this fucking place. The fucking Russian mob wants a fucking war. Well, they picked the wrong fucking club to mess with. Phantom, find me Darrin-fucking-Reynolds!”
With that, I headed back to church and slammed the door behind me.