Heathen (Cerberus MC Las Vegas Chapter #1)

Chapter 13

Heathen

I don't know if leaving her alone in the hotel room was the right thing to do, but I couldn't think of any other recourse.

If I'm going to face the firing line, I'd rather do that alone, at least to try and maintain some dignity.

I pull in a deep frustrated breath when my phone rings, a familiar area code attached to the number that's showing on the display screen.

"Hello," I say, after hitting the hands-free button on the steering wheel, knowing if I avoid the call it will only make things worse.

"What janitorial service costs fifteen thousand dollars?" the voice on the other line asks rather than starting the conversation the normal way with a hello or even taking the time to ask if the person answering is the person they intended to reach.

"A very expensive one," I tell the person, not recognizing their voice.

I never expect my mother or father to be the one to call about one of these types of situations, so I don't know why this stranger's voice sort of hurts my feelings.

"Actually, I bought a wife," I tell the man, waiting to see if it's enough for him to put my father on the phone, but I'm met with a long beat of silence. "Isn't that what he wanted? For me to settle down and have a family?Wasn'tthat the stipulation for releasing my trust fund?"

The silence continues, and I know I'm just beating a dead horse. I want nothing from my family. I've forged my own life without them, and the last thing I need is the money they've been trying to hold over my head. They say they've disowned me, but I know there has to be some hope somewhere, because that credit card charge went through today without a hitch.

"Mr. Burke Sr. would like to make sure that the balance is paid before it accrues interest."

"Of course," I say, pinching the bridge of my nose in annoyance at the red light. "Anything else?"

"That's all. Have a lovely day, Mr. Burke."

The call ends before I can utter another word.

I knew using that gold card was going to trigger something in my father's campaign, but the card didn't have my real name on it. It's registered to one of my family's many businesses, something someone would require very extensive computer skills to link back to me. I had planned to lie about who I was, but then was faced with the government-issued ID requirement for the marriage license, and that ruined everything. Edmon held my card through the multiple lineups of women, and there was no point in asking him to use a different one.

Just like yesterday, I'm too distracted to see the light turn green, and the blare of a horn behind me brings me back to the moment.

I hit the gas, driving with the navigation to get back to the villa, wondering just how much trouble I'm going to be in with Cerberus.

I'm surprised to find that my code still works for the front gate, and I pull the SUV into the garage. There's a chance that I'll be told to pack my shit, and although I do think that order will come with a plane ticket to wherever I plan to land, I doubt they'll let me have access to another vehicle on my own.

I pull in a deep breath when I step inside the house, hanging the keys on the wall.

There's no rush of people. Kincaid doesn't come out from one of the other rooms with a look of disappointment on his face.

I'm met with nothing but silence.

I feel like my soul leaves my body when my phone rings, the sound echoing around the room before I can answer it.

I pull it from my back pocket and answer it as I step back outside, noting the vast difference in temperatures from the house to out here.

"Hello?"

"Daddy Dearest is upset with you."

I smile at the sound of my little sister's voice on the other end of the line.

"Which servant did he have call this time? I didn't recognize his voice."

"That would be Marshall Whiters," she says, changing her voice to sound very important and official.

Another grin spreads across my face.

"What did Daddy Dearest say to you?"

"That man is nearly thirty years old. He should have his life figured out by now."

"Some father he is," I mutter.

"Because you turned thirty last month," Eleanor says with sadness in her tone. "Did they not even call?"

"Do they ever?" I mutter.

"Mr. Whiters says you bought a wife. Was that a joke?"

"Sort of," I say, once again trying to ease the threat of a headache by pinching the bridge of my nose. When it doesn't help, I press the tips of two fingers between my eyes, relieving the pressure built up there only a fraction.

"Explain sort of," Ellie demands.

"That depends. Are you asking for yourself, or for your parents?"

"They're your parents, too," she argues. "But you know where my loyalties lie."

"Why don't you leave?"

"We've already had this conversation. I want to finish college, and if I go, I'll have to pay for it myself. I'm not meant for sand and combat boots," she says, as if the idea of the military for her is appalling. "I'm going to play along until my trust fund is released and then I'm out of here."

"They'll marry you off before that happens," I remind her, knowing how my parents are.

"Let's talk about your marriage," she suggests in a bid to change the subject from her life back to mine.

"There's not much to tell."

"You can start by why you had to pay a woman to marry you."

"That's not exactly what happened," I begin, but then the side door to the house opens. "I have to go, Ellie. I promise I'll call and explain everything soon."

I end the call before she can argue and look up at Rooster.

"Hey, man," I say.

"Telling your family all about your happy news?"

My lips form a flat line. I figured I'd have to tell everyone what happened, but leave it to this fucker to have had some form of tracker on my movements.

"How do you know who I was talking to?" There's no anger in my tone. I'm genuinely curious how the guy knows so much.

"You called her Ellie. That's your baby sister, right?"

"It is," I answer, narrowing my eyes at him.

"Don't look at me like that. It's my job to know everything about everyone."

"How much do you know?" I ask, following him into the house when he turns back in that direction.

"Probably more than you," he says but not in a challenging way. "So, you decide that marrying her is the best way to keep her safe."

"It was a whole thing," I mutter as we enter the kitchen.

I pull two bottles of water from the fridge and pass one off to him. He pulls out one of the stools from the breakfast bar as if he's settling in for a juicy story.

"Who all knows?"

"Just me right now. I figured I'd give you the opportunity to explain what you've done. I'm not a snitch."

"How long do I have?"

He huffs a laugh, but it's a serious question. "Really? Don't do that to me, man."

"I wouldn't ask you to do anything that would compromise us, but I need a couple of days to figure this shit out."

"What's the worst thing that can happen if you fess up?"

I glare at him for a long moment, but he doesn't speak.

"Are you serious? I could lose everything over this. My place with this team."

"Her?"

"What?" I ask, automatically shaking my head. "It isn't like that."

"Do you really think one of those happily married men in New Mexico will tell you that you can't have a relationship outside of the job? We all heard what went down in Tennessee."

"This isn't Tennessee, and that guy didn't go out and buy a chick at a warehouse like you would meat at a cattle auction."

"You did what?"

"I used my father's credit card and paid fifteen grand to buy the cashier from the grocery store," I mutter, not bothering to laugh when Rooster chokes on a sip of water.

"That complicates things. Why would you buy a person? That goes against everything Cerberus is."

"It wasn't for a bad reason."

"Name a good reason you buy someone, Heathen?"

I fucking hate the way my nickname teams up with that question.

"She got herself into trouble. I gave you the address to that place. She fucking went there looking for a woman she's used to seeing at her job. She got caught up."

"Caught up?" he repeats. "That's what you call getting in so deep she ends up for sale?"

"It's a fucked-up situation," I say, rubbing my hands over the top of my head in frustration.

"I'd say so," he says.

"How long will you give me?"

"The appointment with Ace from Tennessee was moved up until tomorrow."

"Fuck," I hiss.

"Yeah, fuck," he repeats. "I'd figure out how you plan on telling him by then, man. I'll shoot you the address for the meeting."