Hours passed without any news from the medical team, and Deva thought her bum had turned completely numb. Those chairs should be used for torture. Slowly, the waiting room had emptied, leaving only Lance, Gabrielle, and Deva.
Lance found a way to lie down on a row of chairs. Quite a feat in Deva’s opinion. Gabrielle was periodically on the phone and had talked to Beatrice and Lazarus without being totally explicit about what happened during the day and promising a meeting in the morning.
Rumors filtered to them as the hours ticked by. Unfounded news about men being killed around the city. The police talked about an internal syndicate war, but Deva knew better. Their plan had worked.
Movement drew her eyes, and she lifted her gaze to see a familiar face. The older man was the same age as her father, but rounder around the middle, with a thick gray beard falling almost to his ample stomach. His leather jacket sporting familiar patches gave him an aura of danger, and his bald head gleamed under the neon lights.
Lance’s posture shifted into defensive mode, as well as Gabrielle, who uncrossed her legs, bringing her bag closer within reach.
The biker looked at her and nodded, his arms along his body in a non-threatening posture.
Gabrielle kept her voice low. “You know him?”
“Yeah. My father’s best friend and closest advisor. Morgan Randall.”
“Threat?”
“I don’t have a clue.”
The man looked at them as if analyzing the trio before deciding to come closer or not. Finally, he approached and sat on a small plastic chair in front of them.
“Hello, Vicky.”
Deva decided not to correct him. None of the MC accepted her disappearance, or return, or change of name for that matter. And she had enough on her mind not to waste energy on that.
“Hello, Morgan.”
As she wasn’t about to introduce her two friends, Morgan shook his head and continued. “Any news from your ol’ man?”
“So far, he’s still in surgery.”
The older man nodded. He genuinely looked tired and worried. And why wouldn’t he be? Mex was his friend and if he died, not only would he lose a close companion, but also the entire MC would be in upheaval as there was no heir presumptive since Johnny died. There would be an internal war.
“How are you holding up, darling?”
Deva blinked. “Me? By the way you look, I should be the one asking you that question.”
The face he offered her was full of sorrow. “You know your father loves you, he always did.”
And now she had to laugh. “If that’s love, I prefer hate.”
“You’re judging him too harshly. Since your mama died, he hadn’t been the same man. He lost himself along the way. And your brother’s death had been the last straw. You have to be understanding.”
“When I returned to Chicago, I hoped he would be the father I had longed for, but he’s been anything but that. I’m sitting here only because of the few good memories I have of him. I’m doing it for Mama, and for Johnny. There are limits to being beaten and threatened, Morgan. He had pushed too far.”
“Your father had worked hard to provide you with a secure, protected environment.”
“And for that I’m grateful. But auctioning me like a heifer, choosing a stranger and money over me, over and over again, is not something I can forget.”
Morgan shook his head. “I don’t condemn your reaction, Vicky, but I wish you could see his point of view. When you reappeared, it shook him. And if what I heard is true, you betrayed him on top of it.”
Deva laughed. “Betrayal? What are you talking about?”
“Damon Evans. You sided with him. The rumor spread as fast as wild fire. Do you deny it?”
“He saved my life! From men that my father knew had kidnapped me. And let me remind you that Damon Evans was the one I had been sold to all those years ago. It shouldn’t even matter to you!”
“The Wayfarers are no longer allies, Vicky.”
“See!! See!! If I had submitted to Mex and his crazy scheme, I would have been married to a man at war with my father. What next? Dear Daddy would have wanted me to kill my husband? It’s just sick, Morgan.”
“No, turning your back on your family is. Especially now, when we’re almost at war with the Wayfarers. You have an alliance with Evans? After all that’s been done for you? What do you want, Vicky?”
“To be left alone! I want you, Mex, and the entire Rows to forget that I exist. From now until the end of time. Whatever happens to Mex, I don’t want to be trapped in the crossfire. Do you know why I’m here, Morgan? I don’t care if the man who calls himself my father lives or dies. I’m doing it for my mother and for Johnny. So, I can stand at their graves and tell them that I’ve done right by them. A war is brewing! Whether Mex lives or dies, I’ll side with Evans. Am I right or wrong, I don’t really care. I’ve made my choice. I’m not going back to the MC, or the underworld. Ever.”
As the words left her mouth, it crystallized what she already knew all along. It was undeniable that she loved Aleksei, more than she ever loved any man in her life. But she couldn’t dive back into this world. Just being affiliated with a man so closely tied to the Bratva would require a lot from her too. She was done submitting against her will, forced against everything she stood for. Another time of mourning. In that instant, as she looked at the man she had known all her life, almost as long as her father, deep down she knew there was no other alternative.
Morgan exhaled softly, smoothing his beard with his thick leathery fingers. “I wish I could make you see the trouble you are causing, Vicky.”
“If you leave me alone, there won’t be any trouble, Morgan. I’m no longer the frightened girl who faked her death to flee a civilized form of slavery. I have connections, friends, people who owe me favors. Remember that, Morgan when you return to the Rows and when all you stubborn males try to decide my fate like Neanderthals.”
Lance snickered beside her, but she trained her eyes on her father’s best friend and influential member of the Rows.
After a while, Morgan finally nodded, sorrow on his face. “I’m sorry you feel that way. We all love you very much, sweetie.”
Deva sighed. There was no possible way to make them realize that their type of love was wrong. She was convinced that Morgan thought, deep down, that he was right.
When Morgan got to his feet, Deva followed suit, sorry for the man. She had known Morgan since she was a toddler. He had a more accommodating, friendlier nature than her father. She could hate Mex as much as she wanted, but not Morgan.
She took the older man in her arms, and he returned his affection the same in a fierce bear hug. “Take care, Morgan.”
“You too, sweetie pie.”
And as he disappeared around the corner, a doctor arrived in the room.
“Are you the family of Mr. Johnson?”
Deva stepped forward. “I’m his daughter.”
The doctor came toward her, and she knew immediately that her father had died. A void expanded in her chest. She was alone now. A chapter had closed. Ready or not, despite the sorrow and the tears.
Straightening her back, Deva knew that the only way was to go forward from now on.