Custom Love by Chantal Fernando

Chapter Twenty-Four

I don’t talk to Trade the next day. I stay home, eating ice cream and feeling sorry for myself, because I don’t know how I feel or if we can even fix this. It was our first big fight, and it was a bad one. We both said things we shouldn’t have in the heat of the moment, but everything that was said did have some truth in it.

Which is why it hurts so much.

I call Decker. “Hey, so I might have fucked up,” I say.

“What did you do now?”

“I told Trade about the MC ties to drugs, and I don’t know if he’s going to tell Temper or not. So the MC might know,” I say, rushing the words out.

He’s silent for a few seconds, and I can almost feel his disapproval wafting through the phone. “Fucking hell, Nadia,” he whispers. “What if they try to cover things up and get rid of evidence?”

“I honestly do not believe the MC is involved in drugs.”

He lets out a big sigh. “Thanks for giving me the heads-up. And it’s okay, we will sort it out. We always do.”

“I’m sorry,” I say.

“It’s okay,” he replies in a curt tone, before hanging up.

I know how unimpressed he must be with me right now. Trust me, I feel the same way.

Trade tries to call me, but I don’t answer, because I don’t know what to say. The conversation we need to have is going to be a brutally honest one, and I don’t know how it’s going to end, which is probably why I’m avoiding it.

I love him, I truly do, but I can’t compete with a dead woman the rest of my life. It hurts too much. I’ve accepted that Ariel will always be part of my world, but hearing him call me her name felt like a thousand knives stabbing into my body. The hardest part is that I understand he cannot control it, so I don’t know what either of us could do to make things better. It’s not like we’re not trying. And then add the fact that I can’t trust that what I tell him will stay between us... Gah, I have no idea what I’m doing here.

Trade surprises me by coming around unannounced that evening, just after I’ve had a long bath, blasting Whitney Houston and Boyz II Men.

“Hey,” I say at the door, tightening my robe around me.

“Can we talk, please?” he asks, handing me a bunch of flowers.

I accept the flowers and let him inside. We sit back down on the same couch where we were yelling at each other last night.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I said. And I shouldn’t have raised my voice at you. It won’t happen again,” he says, taking my hand in his.

He doesn’t say anything about calling me the name of his ex, so I think I was right—he doesn’t even realize what he did.

“You called me Ariel. Again,” I say, letting go of his hand. “Could you imagine if I called you another man’s name? It wouldn’t feel very nice, would it?”

His eyes widen. “When did I call you Ariel?”

“When we were arguing. You called me her name.”

“I didn’t even realize I did that,” he replies, wincing. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, Nadia. It would have just been habit, I didn’t mean to. And the time I said it in my sleep, that wasn’t my—”

I hold up my hand. “I realize you cannot control what you say in your sleep and it’s something I’m working on dealing with. But yesterday...you screamed her name at me and you didn’t even realize it. Am I just filling in for her?”

He frowns. “That’s not fair, Nadia. How can I control what comes out of my mouth in the heat of the moment?”

“I’m sorry, are you saying as an adult we shouldn’t be held accountable for what we say? We have no control?”

He runs his hands through his hair in frustration. “That’s not what I mean. You are not just a replacement for her. I promise. You’re you and you’re very different than her. In a good way.”

“It doesn’t feel that way sometimes.”

He puts an arm around me and lifts my face to his. “I didn’t think I’d ever feel this kind of happiness again. That makes you even more special and shows how amazing you are. Don’t discredit that or what we have.”

I sigh. “I believe you,” I say. “But I do wonder if we rushed into this, if we should have waited a little longer. I don’t know. This shouldn’t be so hard. Between Ariel and everything else...”

“Don’t you dare give up on me now, Nadia. I let my kids see us together because I was confident that we were going to make it, because how I feel about you doesn’t come around every day,” he says, shaking his head. “You can’t walk away from us.”

“I’m not walking away, I just need some time to think.”

He nods. “Okay, if you need time I can give you that.” He lets go of me, and I miss him already.

“What about what I told you about Decker? Did you tell Temper?”

“No. No, I didn’t. After I left I realized that you confided in me, and in order to build trust, I have to honor that. If the roles were reversed, you’re right, I’d be upset if you told someone when I asked you not to. I don’t think the MC has anything to do with drugs; I know my brother. But you have to know that if something important came up, I’m always going to do what I need to to protect my family. I would do the same for you.”

“I know.”

I give him a hug as a thank-you and we say goodbye. Once he leaves, I rest my head back on the couch and sigh heavily.

What a fucking mess.

Monday morning rolls around and I’ve never hated a day of the week more.

“You still here?” I ask, surprised when I see Atlas waiting at my office. The babysitting has gotten scarcer since nothing has been happening, but the prospects are still around now and then.

He nods. “Don’t sound so sad—I brought coffee and chocolate.”

“Okay, I’ll keep you.” I smile, unlocking the door and letting us inside.

Atlas heads out back into the kitchen, probably playing on his phone or something, when Decker shows up. “I’ve figured this whole thing out. I’m the best cop ever,” he says, sitting down and pulling out his phone.

“What have you figured out?”

He slides his phone over to me. “This was taken a week before Damon was arrested. It’s a still shot from camera footage from one of the houses on the street.”

I look at the photo, my eyes widening. “Shit.”

I stare at the two men in the photo. One I was expecting, but the other? I don’t know what to say right now.

There, clear as day, is Damon talking with none other than Chains.

The MC is tied to him, or at least Chains is.

How much does the MC know? Did they conspire against Ariel? Were they responsible for her death?

Before I go further down that rabbit hole, I take a deep breath. Think about this, Nadia. Thoughts of Crow and the rest of the MC. How they mourned Ariel like she was one of their own. I don’t think it’s possible for all of them to have had something to do with her murder.

I call out for Atlas, and tell him that I need to speak to Temper.

“I’ll see where he is,” Atlas says instantly, disappearing again. He must have heard the urgency in my tone.

Decker arches his brow. “I just told you the MC is involved, and you tell the biker hidden in your staff room?”

“I think it’s Chains. Just Chains. No, I know it is. There is no way the rest of the MC knows. Temper doesn’t allow them to deal any drugs. Long story,” I say.

“I don’t like this, Nadia, but you know I was told to stand down, so this isn’t actually police business.”

“Leave this with me, I’ll handle it. I’ll speak with Temper and find out once and for all. Can you send me the photo?”

“Okay, I’ll send it now. Call me,” he murmurs, trusting me without explanation, and leaving me with Atlas, who tells me to get on his bike and that we are going to the clubhouse.

He hands me a helmet and I climb on the back, and hold on to him as he speeds through traffic and gets us to the clubhouse in a record time. I get off his bike, remove the helmet and fix my hair.

“Don’t tell Trade I did that,” Atlas says as we walk inside.

“Did what?” I ask, confused.

“Took you on my bike.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Just don’t.”

“Atlas?”

He doesn’t reply as we walk through the clubhouse and out the back, where Temper is sitting in the backyard.

“Nadia, you’re here,” Temper says when he sees me, standing up from his seat. “Come sit down.”

I sit and pull out my phone. I don’t know how this is going to play out, but I just want to have an honest conversation with Temper. I know I’m not a member of the MC, and he owes me no information, but I just need to know.

“What do you want to talk about?” he asks, a curious expression on his face.

“I need to ask you a question, and I need a straightforward answer, knowing that I’m not the police and this will stay between us,” I say, shifting on the wooden chair.

“Okay.”

“Do you sell drugs?” I ask unflinchingly. Behind me, Atlas makes a strangled noise of amusement.

“No,” Temper declares. “We haven’t, and won’t as long as I’m president. Why?”

I slide him my phone. “You might not be, but Chains is. This is a picture of him with Damon, the man convicted of killing Ariel, a week before she was murdered. Damon was dealing drugs, and we think he was getting the drugs from Chains.”

The photo clearly shows Chains handing over a package to Damon. I don’t know what was inside it, but I can guess.

They weren’t there just having a friendly chat.

Temper curses. “Chains and I recently butted heads about this—he suggested getting into drugs to make more money, over the new plan I have, and I shut it down instantly. Looks like he’s gone ahead and done what he wanted anyway.” Temper brings his brown eyes to me. “Thank you, Nadia. Atlas, call a meeting for everyone except Chains. Message Trade and make sure he keeps an eye on Chains and keeps him at the garage.”

“On it,” Atlas replies.

I realize that I’m stuck here. “Atlas drove me here—do you have a car I can borrow? I have something I need to do.”

“Atlas has a fucking death wish,” Temper murmurs, handing me a set of keys. “Stay out of trouble until this is sorted.”

I nod, take his keys and then text Bronte to ask her for Chains’s address, but for her not to mention it to anyone. I know she’s going to have some questions, but I don’t have anyone else to ask.

He’s at work, so it’s safe for me to go there, and I want to find out what else he’s been hiding.