“He isn’t allowed to have my home address because he threatened to kill me. And he will.” She stares directly at me. “One day, when I think he’s over it, that’s when he’ll do it. I move and he eventually finds my address and takes great delight in telling me he’s found me.” A sad look passes over her face. “It’s a game to him.”
“He’s a mob boss. He’ll always know where you are,” I point out. “He probably knows where you are the second you sign a new lease.”
She shrugs. “Maybe. But if I stop playing the game, he’ll strike. He’ll think I’m complacent.” She rubs at her face, and for the first time, I notice how tired she looks. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. You don’t need to know. I should go.” She stands. “I’m sorry about last night. It won’t happen again.”
As I watch her rush off, I’m left thinking of how much I want it to happen again.
When I get back to the clubhouse, I find Cree, my Vice President, sitting in my office. “Lake tells me you met Reggie Miller’s wife last night at the bar?” he asks.
I nod and take a seat opposite him at my desk. “What of it?”
“Well, why the fuck was she in The Windsor? In fact, why the fuck is she even in this part of London?”
“I knew she was here, Cree. I didn’t see it being an issue. Her kid started at Zig’s school about four weeks ago when she moved here.”
“And you didn’t think that was something you should share?” asks Cree.
“Why? She’s split from him. Got an order from the courthouse just last month.”
Cree glares at me, the vein in his neck ticking because he’s pissed. “You did the research and didn’t share. What the fuck, man?”
“Stop bitching,” I groan. “It’s not important information. Reggie isn’t stupid enough to start a war with us. He’ll stay over the tracks. Stop worrying.”
“So what did she want with you?”
“To talk about our kids. Not everything is club related. Ziggy told her girl that he wanted to kiss her and then he asked her to be his ol’ lady. No big deal. I’ll talk to Ziggy and that’s the end of that.”
Cree laughs. “That kid,” he says affectionately. “So, this woman isn’t a problem for us?”
I shake my head and open my laptop to run a search on Anna Miller. I don’t know if she goes by that surname, but when I pop it into the search engine, the screen is flooded with news stories about her attack a few months ago. I click through them, all reporting similar events: Police and ambulance were called to a domestic incident in which businessman Reginald Miller was involved. His wife was rushed to the hospital where she remains critical.
I continue to look through the feed. A few later reports confirm Reggie was arrested for the assault of his wife, Anna Miller. The court case was only two months ago, and although Reggie was found guilty, he wasn’t imprisoned due to other factors. It doesn’t list the factors, but I imagine they involved large sums of money passing hands. It would explain why Anna isn’t dead already— the bent judge would have put restrictions on contact.
“Is she as hot as Lake said?” Cree smirks.
I nod my head, still staring at the news story in front of me. “H.O.T.,” I spell out. “It’s crossed my mind to hit her up.”
“Because you fancy her or because it’s a reason to get under Reggie’s skin?” he asks. I grin. He knows me well, so I don’t need to answer that. “You’re addicted to trouble,” he adds, shaking his head. “She got any H.O.T. mates?” he asks, and I laugh harder.
Chapter Three
Anna
“He said what?” screeches Eva. “Oh my god.” I’d filled her in over the phone all about my coffee this morning with Riggs. “Why does he want to know about Reggie anyway?”
“In case it impacts them, I guess. It won’t. Reggie won’t expect me to know anything about the boundaries. I had to message Luella and ask her about it,” I admit. “She promised she wouldn’t tell Stephan that I’d been in contact.” Luella is the wife of Reggie’s right-hand man. We were close before Reggie and I split.
“Do you still trust her?” asks Eva.
“Yeah,” I say. “She helped me out a lot back when I was with Reg. She didn’t tell Stephan any of it.” I check my watch for the time. “I have to go. I have a job interview at a garage. Just office work, but it’ll pay the bills,” I say. “And it’s temporary, which is ideal if I have to move again. Will you be my reference?”
“You aren’t moving again, Anna. I love having you right up the road. And of course, I will. Good luck with the interview. I’ll call by on my way home from work and see how you got on.”
I enter the garage where there’s a man with his head under the hood of a car and another man working on a motorbike. They both look up and the mechanic nearest to me comes out from under the bonnet and wipes his oily hands on a rag. “Can I help you?” he asks.
“I’m Anna. I came about the job.”
He smiles and holds his hand out for me to shake. “The name’s Gears,” he says. “Let’s go to the office.” He leads me up some metal stairs into an office that overlooks the garage. He pulls out a seat and I sit. “As you can see, I need help,” he says, pointing to a stack of papers. “I can’t file paperwork away for shit and the boss gets on at me. I can’t fix cars and sort paperwork and answer the phone.”
“Well, I can definitely help you then because I’m great at
