by Romi Hart
She quickly brushed on enough to get her through the halls and to her locker, where she had her full stash, and she took an extra five minutes to cover up the remains of her emotional breakdown. She even had to pin her hair back, several strands having come loose and flown wild as she ran her hands through it in despair. When she was assembled, she hit the clock, two minutes after the hour, which meant she was still on time. Shaking herself, she hurried into the fray of the shift change, trying to put the argument and the ensuing loss out of her mind. She could dwell on it later, but right now, she had to focus on her duties.
But every patient reminded her of Zeke somehow. The grumpy old man in 832A had fallen and broken a hip and knee, so his leg was mangled. The frat boy in 837B with alcohol poisoning couldn’t seem to control his urge to flirt. And the woman in 840 had her son visiting, his hair the same sandy color as Zeke’s and shorn in a similar fashion. By the time she went on break, she was tempted to head home, claiming she was ill. She felt it, mentally, at least.
As she sat at the small table in the breakroom, staring into space, she fingered her phone, tempted to send an apology through text. But that didn’t seem right. Then, she thought about calling Rory, asking for advice. But she needed to learn to handle her own shit. She didn’t even know who she was now, after everything with Chris and this new, openminded reaction to Zeke. She didn’t want Rory or anyone else dictating her every step. And she didn’t need validation. At least, that’s what she told herself.
Straightening in her seat, she made a snap decision. Pulling up her contacts, she scrolled until she found the number she hadn’t used yet, the one Nancy had given her on Zeke’s behalf. Quickly, she typed out a message she hoped she wouldn’t regret later.
If you’re willing, I’d like a second chance. I can explain. I’ll be at the hospital
tomorrow at 6:00, and I’ll wait half an hour, in case you change your mind.
She hit ‘send’ before she could think twice, then nearly went into a panic attack. What if he ignored her? What if he stood her up? She couldn’t blame him, but the rejection would be worse than the current situation. At least now, he had every reason to be angry and hate her. But she’d offered an olive branch, and if he didn’t accept, the fact that it had all gone to hell would fall on her, and the grief and regret might send her back into a downward spiral.
No, she couldn’t let that happen. And besides, she had to believe that Zeke had enough of a soul and a heart to at least let her explain whatever he’d heard so he would know she hadn’t used him. Because she couldn’t think of anything else he could have deduced from any part of the heated exchange with Chris. Maybe she’d originally thought about using him to move on, and yes, she’d wanted to rub it in Chris’s face the moment the opportunity presented itself, but somewhere along the way, it had become about being with Zeke and not just choosing someone to help her find her way back into the dating game.
For the rest of the day, she checked her messages more often than she should have, hoping that maybe Zeke would break the radio silence, answer her in advance. Then again, the way she’d worded her message, it left things open for him to think about it for the next 24 hours without responding at all, regardless of his decision. She’d been stupid and hasty, and as she left the hospital, driving to the gym to meet Rory, she chided herself for not thinking more carefully about the message she would send. She could have had her answer right away.
But then, she wasn’t prepared to definitively end things today. She needed time to work up to the idea of Zeke walking away from her.
For once, Rory didn’t ask her any questions, and Leigh disappeared quietly behind her earphones, blasting the music as she ran. She didn’t push too hard, but she didn’t slow down, and she barely noticed the workout until the timer beeped, and the treadmill slowed to a stop. She’d managed to clear her head for the time being, and it had eased some of the tension inside.
In the locker room, waiting for the showers, Rory finally spoke. “So, are we still going out tonight, or is someone not quite feeling the vibe?” She wasn’t pushing, and she wasn’t even making light of anything. She seemed to feel the somber mood Leigh was in and, for what might be the first time, wasn’t pushing to turn it around.
She hadn’t checked her phone since before the workout, but she doubted she’d find anything new. Still, she had no desire to work a crowd and try to hook up with anyone. If she went home, she would spend the entire night trying to analyze and predict what was going to happen tomorrow. She wouldn’t survive that and would likely end up calling her best friend anyway.
With a sigh, she said, “Can we just do dinner and a couple of drinks instead? I don’t feel like partying, but I’m too amped up to go home.” She knew she’d spill her concerns over good food anyway.
Looking satisfied, Rory gave her a glorious smile. “I know this great little Italian place that has all sorts of great wine and the option for healthy dishes, if you want.”
Normally, Leigh would have been all over the idea of healthy. Tonight, she snubbed her nose at it. “Trust me, with the mood I’m in, no salad or baked salmon is going to fix me. I need fried calamari, alfredo sauce, garlic bread, and maybe a cannoli for dessert.”
“Damn, that bad?”
“You have no idea.”
9
“We can’t just ask Dylan to cut ties with the Ravens. Gomez is volatile, and he’s got the gunpower to start an all-out war and take both of our clubs down,” Corey said, shaking his head. Zeke was barely following the discussion. He knew it was serious business, so he tried to keep one ear tuned in, but he hadn’t slept well. He’d spent all night kicking himself in the ass and contemplating Leigh’s text.
He’d considered answering it, but he didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t decided if he wanted to see her again or not. He didn’t like the way he craved her, the way he wanted to have Leigh with him all the time, despite the way her words had sliced into him. And he wasn’t sure he wanted any apologies or explanations.
“Dylan said that even Hawthorne was ready to drop their agreement with the Ravens,” Harrison weighed in. Zeke tried to follow the logic as he continued, “Gomez had gotten more and more unstable over the last year or so, and he’s out of control. He doesn’t just have weapons. He’s got people and clout and fear on his side. A lot of clubs he’s worked out truces with are terrified to break the bargain because he’s completely unstable.”
“I get that,” Corey conceded. “And Dylan doesn’t want anything to do with them anymore, either. But this isn’t like annulling a marriage between strangers. It’s going to take time and careful planning.”
“Hey, Zeke, do you still talk to that one chick whose brother is with the Reapers?”
Harrison’s question drew his attention, and he sat up taller, gathering his wits. “No, but I’m buddies with the brother. Dan. Why?”
Harrison turned toward Corey. “The Reapers are working with the Ravens, too, and I’m sure they’ll want to get out of the deal, too. If we get enough clubs together, we could just take the Ravens out of commission. We could bring down Gomez and enough of his men to ruin their business and force them to tear up any contracts.”
“That’s playing dangerously,” Corey said, but he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “We aren’t exactly close with the Reapers, either.”
“But Zeke’s got the way in for us,” Harrison pointed out, and Zeke wished he’d been paying closer attention. A week ago, he’d been desperate to get involved in club business. Now, he wanted to leave this meeting, which seemed to be dragging on forever, and go somewhere to think. He only had a few hours to make a decision whether or not he was still going to have dinner with Leigh.
“And it’s a good plan,” Rafe spoke up. “I’m not trying to throw this on Zeke’s back. But the Reapers aren’t the only people we know who would band with us on this. Keep in mind that the enemy of our enemy may not be our friend, but just might make a temporary ally.”
Bill
sat forward eagerly. “You’re right. And I think between all of us, we probably have another five or so clubs we could band together to take down Gomez and his goons.”
“When did this go from ending a relationship to an offensive operation?” Corey asked, looking daggers around the table. Zeke had a feeling he’d missed something. He hated Gomez and the Ravens as much as any of his brothers, but Dylan had asked for help breaking their deal with the Ravens, not a militia to go in and assassinate their leader.
That change of direction must have occurred somewhere between his confusion about why he’d acted so out of pocket this morning and why he still couldn’t stop thinking about Leigh’s sweet ass. Or her smile. Or those icy blue eyes that went back and forth between heating him to boiling and freezing him with hatred.
Rafe held up a hand to stop the arguments that were clearly on the tips of several tongues around the table. “Just hold on a minute. Corey’s right. We can discuss all this as a secondary option, but we need to figure out how to drive negotiations with Gomez and his clan of halfwits so that Dylan is freed of an obligation he didn’t make, without drawing first. And hopefully, without repercussions for either crew.”
“I don’t see that happening,” Harrison shook his head. “I’m telling you, there is no talking to Gomez sensibly about anything. He’s going to fly off the handle. You know after the ambush at the storage facility, he found out one of his men had shot to injure and not to kill, and Gomez pulled his pistol and shot his own man point blank in the face?”
“Where are you getting this intel?” Bill asked, narrowing his gaze.
Glancing at Corey, and then at Zeke, Harrison swallowed hard. Zeke grew doubly irritated. This was something that had come up in a private conversation long before the disaster that landed him in the hospital, and it was the last thing he needed to have brought up today, when he was already in a piss poor mood, with decisions of his own to make.
“Spill it,” Corey demanded, crossing his arms. This was not a good sign, and Zeke wanted to strangle Harrison for bringing this up today, of all days. In front of the entire council, too. He wondered if pretending he had food poisoning so he could disappear and not be a part of this discussion would work.
But it was too late for that now, and he thought that, at least, he might get lucky and get an ass whooping from Corey so severe it would negate his need to make a decision about tonight’s plan. Harrison looked even more nervous than he felt, so Zeke sighed and started the conversation. “We’ve had someone on the inside for almost three months.” A deep silence roared in his ears as everyone at the long table stared at him in disbelief. “It wasn’t part of a plan, if that’s what you’re thinking. There’s a prospect over there that’s terrified to quit, but he wants out. We met him at the strip club one night when he was trying to hide out and run into someone, anyone, from another club.”
“He begged us to help him, and we told him we couldn’t do anything without the backing of the entire MC,” Harrison chimed in. “He said he’d do anything, and I told him the MC wouldn’t back the idea unless he had something to give us. So, he said he’d feed me any information he could, if it would help make the case against Gomez. He wants to prospect for us, but I told him I couldn’t make that call, either. He’s been calling me anytime something major happens.”
Zeke bristled. “You never told me he was still in touch. And if he’s been calling you all this time, why didn’t he tell us about the fucking ambush that nearly cost me my life? Not to mention my leg!”
“He didn’t know,” Harrison told him. “None of the prospects were in on that. Trust me, I would have let everyone know. And he would have been dead if he’d known and not shared,” he added fiercely. He turned to Corey. “This is a scared kid. The kind of thing we specialize in.” He glanced at Zeke, then Rafe, and a couple of other faces around the table. “I haven’t given him anything he could share back, so it’s not like he’s playing both sides. He’s just trying to stay alive and bide his time.”
“And you all but obligated us to him,” Corey groaned. Scrubbing his face with both hands. Zeke didn’t know what to think. He trusted the kid, recognized his need and his fear. But he was angry with Harrison and not feeling particularly generous with his forgiveness.
“Like I said, I told him I couldn’t promise him anything. That’s why I’ve kept it to myself till now. I didn’t want anyone else feeling they owed him anything, not even Zeke. But the information had to come out now, to protect all of us.” Harrison looked distraught, and Zeke saw the plea in his eyes.
He gave a short nod, knowing he couldn’t hold a grudge. Harrison didn’t always make the best decisions and could be impulsive, but he was a savior. He wanted to rescue everyone, and that put him in a tough position more often than not. Zeke had immediately jumped to conclusions, once again, and assumed that Harrison was about to betray a confidence between them, throw his name under the bus. But he hadn’t, and as the discussion continued, Zeke inconspicuously pulled out his phone and read the text message again.
Leigh was only asking for the same respect he’d just shown Harrison. Forgiveness, a chance to explain, another chance. Faith and brotherhood were everything with the Devil’s Flames, and Zeke gave it willingly to all of the members, even most of the prospects, without question. He didn’t know Leigh as well, but he could see enough of her to know that her heart was purer than any of the ones in this room. Why wouldn’t he give her the opportunity she asked for? He could afford the time it took to listen to whatever it was she had to say, especially if she was willing to wait there for him, without any response from him, for half an hour, just in case he decided to show up late.
Damn, he was a fool.
The rest of the meeting was grueling. He just wanted it to end, and he shifted in his seat several times, his knee starting to ache. Finally, Corey turned to him. “If we put it to a vote, are you willing to put out feelers with your contact inside the Reapers?”
Zeke shrugged. “I don’t have a problem with it. We’re cool, and he’ll meet me without question.”
Corey nodded. “Great. Let’s vote.” It was unanimous, and depending on the response, they’d start calling in some of the other clubs. “I’ll get in touch with him within a week,” Zeke promised, anxious to leave.
“As soon as possible, Zeke. Time is ticking,” Corey told him, and Zeke gave him a lazy salute on the way out the door.
“You up for some pool?” Rafe asked as they walked through the clubhouse.
Zeke shook his head. “No, I’ve got something to take care of this evening. But can you do me a favor?”
Rafe looked skeptical. “That depends.”
“Follow me a few blocks. I need to see if I can handle the bike. I’m hoping to take someone for a ride tonight.”
“You really think you’re ready for that?” Rafe asked.
Staring him down defiantly, he said, “I’ve done everything I’ve been told, and if I don’t get back on my bike soon, I’m going to lose my fucking mind, Rafe. I can’t call on another friend or take another goddamn Uber right now.” He sighed and rubbed the top of his head. “I’m going to the hospital from here, and then maybe to dinner. That’s it. After that, if I feel anything off, I’ll call it a night. We’ll get a cab or an Uber. I just need a test run with someone I trust so that, if it goes wrong, I’m not alone.” He gave a sheepish grin. “You saved me once, right?”
Rafe rolled his eyes. “Knock that shit off. I get enough sappy sweetness from my girlfriend.”
That made Zeke laugh, despite his trepidation. He was nervous about showing up to meet Leigh, but he lacked just as much confidence when it came to straddling his ride again. “Nothing wrong with a little bro-mance from time to time, my friend.” Rafe rolled his eyes again but smiled, and Zeke knew he had him.
“Fine, I’ll follow you, but take it easy. No roaring off or pushing too much speed.”
Zeke beamed. “You got it, bro.” For now, he’d behave. But it would
feel so good to have the wind in his hair again, and once he had Leigh on the back, he wouldn’t be able to resist putting pedal to the metal, just a little. That didn’t mean he needed to worry Rafe. He wasn’t suicidal, and he definitely wouldn’t put Leigh in danger.
He just needed a spotter for his first time back out, in case his knee decided it just wouldn’t function properly, and then he’d be ready to go.
* * *
Zeke flipped through his closet for probably the fourth or fifth time, looking for the appropriate thing to wear. He didn’t date, and he’d felt a little stuffy in the more formal attire. But he didn’t have anything he felt was particularly middle ground. Sighing, he rubbed his head and sat down to think, not wanting to overstrain his knee. He’d had a great ride and felt fully confident in his ability to control the bike.
Much more confidence than he felt about his appearance.
He thought about the douchebag she’d spoken to and how much he looked like an aging frat boy, and it made him want to vomit. He didn’t want to go that route. He wasn’t that guy. And really, why should he be anything but who he was? After all, if Leigh wanted to be with him, for any reason, she should want him for who he was and not some dickhead he was trying to emulate.
No, he was done playing games, being something he wasn’t. he was going to be comfortable in his own skin, and he was going to show Leigh who he was and what that meant. If she was going to judge him, she could judge him for the man he was. And if she was going to use him, she could decide if he was worth the time and energy as is, no upgrades or extra décor.
A black Henley with his favorite faded black jeans went with his boots and his cut were a good, basic outfit that made him feel whole, and the addition of a thick silver chain from which hung a heavy MC insignia that grazed against his heart gave him hope. In the bathroom, he trimmed the facial hair he didn’t like, leaving his stubble, and he splashed on the aftershave. He put a little pomade in his hair and stared at himself for a moment. This was the Zeke he knew, the Zeke he’d been for the last thirteen years, or close to it.
