Resurrection (Wesson Rebel MC Series Book 3) (15 page)

Houdini nods.

We wait in painful silence for Vita to emerge.

This is going to establish us, or herald in our demise.

Chapter Ten

Vita /Eliza

I step out onto the balcony and peer out over the backyard. My house is in the rear, and it is gorgeous. It’s got a natural stone alcove with a waterfall that slides down into a large pool and a built-in hot tub. The matching décor is extended to a grill area complete with the priciest outdoor furniture and a covered patio area. It should make me smile, but all I feel is indifferent. It’s amazing what money can do. Two weeks ago, I was in a cabin in the middle of the woods, and now we’re in our own home.

I can’t tell if it makes Ira happy, but he’s busy. Every day, its meetings and negotiations as they install people they trust into family positions of power. It makes my head hurt. Aunt Giada comes by nearly daily. I know she feels poorly, but I can’t blame her. I wouldn’t put my children at risk either. I just wish she’d tried harder to alert us. Then maybe, I wouldn’t hold this distrust for her.

I lean against the white marble railing and wonder what Prophet is doing. He’d stayed for a couple of days in the hotel room connected with mine, before he got called back home. I didn’t expect him to be up my ass— I know he said he wanted to give me space to make up my own mind— but this felt like too much.

Was this a ploy to get me to break our ties? Some passive aggressive play at letting me down easy?

I don’t know and it’s driving me crazy. Speaking of crazy, Ira is bending over backwards to sway me toward staying with him. It’s funny, I always thought he would be happy to see me go. Now, I’m thinking we’ve formed some unhealthy codependence, and I don’t want that. There’s nothing really here for me. Sure, there’s money and respect, if I cared about it, but nothing else. I have no friends, no one I really trust other than Ira, and nothing to do. A person can only shop, watch television, and swim so much. I will the phone on the table to ring. Of course, it doesn’t. It’s like I’m in a weird state of limbo right now. I don’t fit here, but I don’t fit back home, either. How can I choose? Pick the lesser evil?

I miss Prophet more than I imagined I would. The texts aren’t enough, and we don’t get a chance to FaceTime nearly as much as I’d like. Dallas has him working on something with the club, which means long hours. I think it has to do with making sure they don’t have a leak, but I could be wrong.

Cora is well. Her Braxton Hicks are a regular occurrence. Rowan and Sampson have moved back in, which cuts down our talk time. I don’t want to put this on her when she’s preparing to bring a new life into the world and reconnecting with her best friend. I know there was a rift while Sampson dried out. It was a struggle, and some people wondered if he’s really off the pain killers for good. I know it’s something Cora still worries about; she’s motherly like that. R.J. and baby number two are lucky to have her.

Knock, knock.

I sigh. I know its Ira.
I should pretend to be asleep.

Knock, knock.

I turn and walk through the bedroom big enough to fit an entire apartment in. I open the door.

“Hey. You busy?”

“No.”

“You want to go do something with me?”

“Do you actually have the time?”

He winces. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve been busy. I didn’t mean to neglect you.”

I hold up my hand. “No, don’t apologize to me for doing what you need to do. You’re assuming control, it’s necessary. I was genuinely asking a question.”

“I’ll always make time for you. You know that.”

“I do. Maybe it shouldn’t be something you have to do.”

“What are you talking about? You’re my baby sister. Even when you’re fifty, I’m going to look out for you.”

“Yes, but not like this.”

“You want to explain what you’re talking about? You haven’t been yourself, since I left you alone with Prophet. What did he do, brainwash you?”

“No, he let me grow up. He helped me be the woman I needed to be in the circumstances handed down to me. You treat him like he plotted this. He didn’t even like me at first. There was nothing but animosity and distrust. Then we damn near died together in a car and things changed. I’m not the woman I once was, because I was stuck in the mindset of a child.”

“You went through a lot.”

“Yes, and I never addressed any of it. I didn’t even attempt to deal with it. I hid like a child who jumps into bed every night because they’re afraid the monster under their bed will drag them under.”

“It’s different. We both
knew
the monsters were real.”

“It’s an excuse. You love me, but you could never be objective.”

“So, now you’re mad because I did what I needed to do to take care of you?”

“No.” I shake my head. “Why are you so defensive?”

“Because you want to ditch me for that bearded fucker back home.”

“I’m not choosing one or the other.”

“Aren’t you? If you go back, what happens?”

“I live. Finally, I live. I figure out who the hell Vita is. Don’t you understand? I need to do this and I need to do it alone.”

“And when he breaks your heart and leaves you crumbled into tiny pieces? Then what, huh? You come running back to me and I fix it?” He taps his chest with his balled hand.

“No, I expect you to be there and support me like a normal sibling would. You’re not my keeper, Ira. You can’t encase me in bubble wrap and keep me from harm.”

“Just like that…you expect me to just say nothing?”

“No, I expect you to respect my choices and want what makes me happy.”

“Even if it’s the worst possible thing for you?”

“Yes. Can you do that?”

He shakes his head and glances up. “I can try, but don’t think I’m going to hold my tongue. It’s not in me. I’ve been playing the role of guardian for too long. And I’m telling you right now, this thing with Prophet is bad news.”

“Why?”

“Because club life is unpredictable. There’s no stability and very little monogamy. I don’t want to see you hurt and used up. That’s what happens to women.”

“What about Cora?”

“You see the hell she went through?”

“Prophet is not Dallas.”

“No, he’s not. But that doesn’t mean he’s not the same type of man. We are a similar breed.”

“Oh, bullshit.”

“You don’t want to hear the truth—”

“I don’t want to hear
your
version of the truth. I don’t know what you have against Prophet. You must like him. You left him with me.”

“Like I had a choice. He’s the only one who could truly understand you.”

“Apparently, in more ways than one.”

He steps back, looking like I slapped him.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” I continue to sign vigorously at him, “You can’t stand that I have someone else who can understand me.”

He scoffs.

I can’t help but notice he won’t meet my eyes. “Ira. You know I’m never going to
not
need you, right? No matter what else happens in my life, you are always going to be my big brother. The person who pulled me out of hell and kept me safe, against all odds. It’s time for us to both let go and step back. Lorenzo is dead. Our family has been avenged, and we’re not running scared anymore. Maybe you should find out who Ira is. I know you’ll deny it to the bitter end, but I stunted your growth and I’m sorry for that.”

“Don’t say that, Vita. I love you.”

“And I love you, but you weren’t ready to be a parent at twenty-one, to a special needs child, no less.”

“Hey. You don’t talk about yourself like that!” he barks.

I smile. I love that he never looked at me that way. “Yes, I know. You told me I was different and there was nothing wrong with that.”

“There isn’t.”

“I know and believe that now, because of you. You’ve done your job and then some. If I fly or fail now, it’s all on me. I know you think you know Prophet, but believe me when I tell you, you don’t. He’s been through some bad things.”

“We all have.”

“Yes, and if you knew his story you’d realize he’s more like us than you could ever imagine.”

“So, tell me.” Ira’s eyes plead with me.

“It’s not my story to tell.”

He growls.

“Don’t be upset, he might not want me after all. Contact has been minimum.”

“But you’re still going back.”

“I think so. Being here, it doesn’t feel right for me. I don’t have anything to do, and everything feels new, but it should feel familiar. It brings up bad memories for me.” I rub my arms to ward off the chill that settles over my skin.

“I don’t want to do this without you,” he admits.

“You don’t have to do it all, if you don’t want to.”

“Yeah, I think I do. I can’t walk away until I know this has been made right. That we’re not going to end up stalked and hunted down again. I want to put us back where we were. It’s my gift to Dad.”

“And what about Wesson?”

“I’ve been granted an extended leave of absence.”

I frown. “I’m pretty sure they don’t do that.”

“Dallas is the President, he does whatever he wants. Besides, I’m a nomad. Things are a little different for me. It’s a given, I’m going to wander.”

“How long do you plan on being in Philly?” I ask. The thought of leaving him is no more pleasant for me, but we do what we must. We always have.

“As long as it takes.”

“Okay.” A sullen mood settles over us. “What did you want to show me?” I ask, changing the topic.

“I wanted to take you back to our favorite cheesesteak place for lunch. Remember, they had those hand-cut fries?”

My stomach growls in response. “Yeah, I remember.”

“You game?”

“Yeah, let me get my shoes on.” I walk over to the bed and slip my feet into my sandals. I won’t miss this image thing. I long for my T-shirts, tanks, blue-jeans, and tennis shoes. It would’ve been an enjoyable time reminiscing, but I know better. This is more than likely our last meal together alone for a while.

I’m not sure where I stand with Prophet. The only real way to find out is to see him in person, look into his eyes and ask him. I didn’t catch the conversation between him and Prophet, but I know Ira warned him off. Prophet isn’t the kind to back down, unless he sees some value in it. I can’t help but think Jewel has gotten into his head again. I refuse to let that bitch have him. I claimed him and pulled him from the wreckage she left behind. There will be no backsliding or hiding.

And if he doesn’t want me? Then I’ll survive. It’s something I’ve found I have a knack for.

Prophet/Charles

I toss back a shot and slam it onto the table. “Hit me again,” I tell the blonde.

She complies.

“Why you out here drinking yourself to death, man? It’s not like you,” Sampson says.

“That’s because I usually drown myself in pussy. Can’t do that now.”

“You want to tell me why?”

I look at him and find, I actually do. “You know what? Yeah, I do. It’s Vita.”

“Holy shit, Houdini’s sister?”

“Yeah,” I slur.