Rev It Up (Black Knights Inc. #3)(29)
After they’d gone some distance, he ventured, “Just what are the chances this Johnny character will come after Shell and Franklin?”
“Very remote,” Boss assured him, using the key to open the thick metal door to the armory. “Johnny wants us dead. We’re the ones who killed his cousin and brother-in-law. But I’d already decided to bring her here or send one of the boys back home with her even before you showed up, so I’m glad you arrived when you did. And now, you’ve got the chance to convince her you’re not our father.”
“Yeah, uh,” Jake scratched his ear. “I gather there’s a story there, you know, given you called the guy a deadbeat.”
His former CO sighed, sliding a surreptitious glance over at Shell who was nodding and speaking quietly into the phone although the expression on her face was anything but conciliatory. “I never spoke much about dear ol’ Dad, did I?”
“Much? Try never. I always assumed the dude was dead.”
Boss motioned him through the door to the armory and, as Jake stepped inside, he breathed in the metallic scent of the weapons, the slightly tangy aroma of gun oil, and the more acrid smell of cordite. Why he found that combination particularly appealing spoke loudly of the life he’d chosen to live.
“I don’t know if our father is dead or not,” Boss admitted. “I haven’t seen or spoken to the man in almost twenty-eight years.”
Jake raised a brow.
“My dad had a thing for younger women and used to pretty blatantly cheat on our mom. When I was twelve and Shell was six, he finally quit trying to play the father and husband and split. Our mother fell apart after that and Shell…well, I guess Dad’s leaving probably affected her the most. It made her wary, mistrusting…”
Jake’s heart broke for the scared, hurt little girl Shell had once been, and he realized how much courage it must’ve taken for her to swallow her fear four years ago and give him, a self-described ladies’ man, a chance. The same chance he’d immediately proceeded to screw over and toss out the window.
Jesus, you’re an ass, Sommers…
“I guess that’s why I was so surprised back in California when it looked like you two were starting to hit it off,” Boss mused. “Considering your similarities to our father.”
“I would never screw around on my wife,” he insisted, pissed beyond measure to find himself lumped into a group of cheaters.
“Hell, I know that,” Boss scoffed. “But Shell doesn’t, and she didn’t back then either. I suppose that’s why she was so quick to settle on Preacher after things with you two hit the skids.”
She’d settled on Preacher because he’d literally thrown her at the guy, and Shell was smart enough to recognize an honorable man when she saw one.
“Why are you telling me this?” he asked, narrowing his eyes as he tried to read Boss’s mind.
“Because, like I said earlier, this isn’t going to be easy. And I figure you’ll stand a better chance if you realize exactly what you’re up against.”
Yo, as if all the shit that went down between me and Shell wasn’t bad enough…
“But she’s worth it.” Boss watched his face intently.
“Damn, dude, I know that,” he huffed. “I just wish I could find your father and gut him like a fish for making my job that much more difficult.”
“Ha!” Boss clapped him on the shoulder and spun him toward the shelves lined with every weapon an operator could ever desire. “You’ll have to get in line for that. Now, even though I don’t think Vitiglioni or his goons are really going to go after Shell, I figure we’re better off safe than sorry. Pick out whatever you need.”
He started toward the shelves then hesitated, turning back. “Why are you willing to help me with her?” he asked, gauging the big man’s reaction with a practiced eye.
“Because she’s a good woman, and she needs a good man. I always thought you were a good man, Snake.”
As warmth unfurled in his chest—because, yo, for more than a few years he’d doubted that very thing—he feigned wiping away a tear as he kicked an imaginary rock, “Aw, shucks, Boss. You’ll make me blush.”
“A pain in the ass,” Boss added, “but a good man. Of course, that doesn’t mean I won’t sneak into your room while you sleep and slit your throat should you hurt her.”
Chapter Six
The Stardust Hotel
Chicago, Illinois
Listening to the couple going at it next door, Johnny contemplated shoving his hand down his pants to join in the festivities—sad, but self-service was the only kind of service he’d been getting since he’d gone into hiding—when his prepaid cellular phone buzzed on the nightstand. Startled, he nearly tumbled off the lumpy piece of cardboard that passed as a mattress in this filthy hotel.
“Damnit, what now?” he growled, refusing to answer the vibrating phone. The only person who had access to this number was his sister, and she was only supposed to call him in case of emergency.
Emergency? Yeah, right.
So far today, Mary had had three “emergencies.”
The first crisis involved her calling to ask for the keys to his Lamborghini. Because she wasn’t going to be seen driving to Tahoe in her lowly Mercedes Benz—the spoiled bitch.