by Lane Hart
“Isobel, listen,” Sax protests, just as heavy footsteps can be heard out in the hall.
“Yo, you guys decent in there?” Gabe yells from outside the door. “I sent that text like half an hour ago. You ready for some ink?”
“Yes, come on in,” I call out before Sax can say anything else. I’m still only in my t-shirt and a thong, but with the idea I have for the placement of my tattoo, that’s the most appropriate thing to be wearing.
Gabe opens the door as Sax is fastening his jeans, first looking over to him before his gaze is drawn to my naked legs. “Whoa, hello there,” Gabe snorts. “You sure you guys don’t need a minute?”
“No,” Sax grumbles as he collapses into a chair. “She’s ready to go.”
“I wanted to get the cherry blossom and a couple of butterflies up my hip, here,” I tell Gabe, pointing out the area to him. “Should I just lie on the bed? Can you do it in here, you think?”
“Yeah, the light is good in here,” Gabe confirms. “Lie down and I’ll get my stuff out, then show you the stencil I worked up.”
Once Gabe is prepared and has placed the stencil on my hip, Sax finally gets up from his seat and comes over to take a look. His stern face instantly softens as he looks at the design. “It’s beautiful,” he sighs. “Does it mean something special to you, Izzie, or is it just for the look?”
I’m so happy to see his mood lighten up that I answer right away, without realizing my answer might bother him. “I wanted the cherry blossoms and butterflies because they’re both so ephemeral and short-lived. While beautiful, you have to appreciate them all the more because they’re so fleeting.”
After I explain my reasoning, I glance up from the stencil to see Sax’s face. His eyes are shining as though he’s fighting back tears, and his face is tight with barely controlled emotion. “You get to work, Gabe,” he says in a thick voice. “I’m going to go get a drink. You want anything?”
“Water, please,” Gabe says as he pulls a chair close to the bed and sits down.
“One for me, too, please,” I add.
“Coming right up,” Sax says with a sniff, swiping at his nose as he leaves the room.
“Didn’t have him pegged as the sentimental type,” Gabe snorts as he tests his tattoo gun, the tiny engine whining to life and almost drowning out his words.
“He’s got some things buried really deep,” I tell Gabe. “But there are treasures in those depths worth exploring.”
“Well, cheers to you, Isobel,” Gabe grins. “Always nice to meet someone else with the soul of an artist, especially among these barbarians. Now, you just relax, and I’ll take good care of this for you.”
Sax comes back a short time later with two bottles of water, which he places on the bedside table. Without making any comment, he goes back to sit on the other side of the room, making sure not to interrupt Gabe’s concentration.
The tattoo is almost painless under his deft touch, the only pain coming when he drags his needle across my hip bone while etching a butterfly. It takes him less than three hours to complete the entire design, his hand never seeming to tire and his attention never wavering.
“That’s it,” Gabe tells me as he leans back and uses a clean rag to wipe the area gently a few more times. “I brought you a bottle of lotion to rub on it several times a day while it heals up, and you probably want to keep it covered the first day or so, unless you want it bleeding all over your clothes. You got any questions for me?”
“Gabe, it’s beautiful!” I gush before I hop up from the bed and walk over to the mirror to see it better. “Thank you so much for doing this for me!”
“Thank you for all you’ve done for my boys, Cooper and Sax both,” Gabe replies. “You’ve made both of them better, I think. I’m going to get on out of here; but if you have any trouble, Sax knows how to reach me, okay?”
“Thanks, brother,” Sax says as he finally stands up and goes to open our bedroom door. He slaps Gabe on the shoulder as he leaves, then closes the door behind him.
I turn towards Sax, unable to hide my elation at how well the colors turned out. I quickly pull the t-shirt I was wearing over my head, so that I’m standing by the mirror in only my thong. “Tell me what you think, Captain. Do you approve? Personally, I love it!”
“I didn’t think it was possible for you to be even more beautiful,” Sax says as he crosses the room towards me. “Does it hurt too badly for you to…”
Sax never gets to finish the question as I meet him by the bed, our bodies crashing together as our lips find each other. I fumble at his belt as he gently stretches the waist of my underwear to clear my newly inked hip. “It’ll be fine,” I manage to gasp. “Just let me be on top.”
I can feel Sax nod in agreement as I push him down to the bed, then jerk his jeans off and throw them to the floor. He pulls me on top of him, and together we make whatever lingering discomfort I may have had immediately fade away.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sax
While Isobel is still sleeping, looking like the angel she is, I slip out of bed, get dressed and head outside to make a phone call. I never should have accepted her father’s deal, but I didn’t think I had a choice. Now, no matter the consequences to the Kings, I can’t ask Isobel to give up her journey to help us when she only has a few years of an independent lifestyle left. The Kings can hire the best attorneys money can buy to try and get them out of the charges. And I…well, I’m ready to tell them the truth about everything, no matter the costs.
Finding her father’s number in my phone, I press the button to call him and put the phone up to my ear.
“What?” he answers.
“How could you?” I grit out.
“Excuse me?” the governor asks in his holier than thou tone.
“How could you ask me to do this to Isobel when you know how important it is for her to live her life, her limited life the way she wants.”
“So she told you about the Huntington’s?” he asks as if it’s a life choice and not a fatal disease.
“Yeah, she finally told me, so you and I are done. Do what you have to do, but I won’t be a part of your plan any longer, you selfish fucking prick!”
“Then you better warn your friends to say goodbye to their families and get their finances in order before the feds put them away for life.”
Squeezing my eyes shut at the pain this is going to cause them, I yell, “Fuck you!” before I end the call.
When I turn around to go back inside, Isobel is standing there on the back stoop in one of my t-shirts and nothing else, her arms wrapped around herself. The bottom of her new cherry blossom tattoo on her upper thigh sticks out, making her even sexier than before.
“Who were you talking to?” she asks softly, her voice still hoarse from sleep.
“No one,” I answer automatically.
“You were yelling at them, so it must have been someone you know. What’s going on?”
“Nothing, it’s just club bullshit,” I reply.
“Sax, please don’t lie to me,” she pleads, the look in her hazel eyes so sad it physically hurts my chest. “If it was no one, then let me see your phone,” she says, holding out her palm for the device.
“Isobel,” I start.
“Sax, just give me your phone.”
“I can’t,” I tell her. “Listen, Iz, I-I hate lying to you.”
“Then just tell me!” she snaps.
“Please promise me you’ll hear me out,” I beg. “Give me a chance to explain.”
“Fine.”
I’m not completely convinced, but I still begin to give her the truth. “Your father blackmailed me and the MC. He threatened to send us to prison for murder.”
“Did you really do it? The murder?” she asks quietly.
“Yes, and he had evidence,” I respond.
“God, Sax!” she exclaims, and I wait for her anger to rain down on me. Instead, she says, “I’m so, so sorry my dad did that. He really is such a dick. He’s
probably pissed because I lied and told him you and I were together.”
“No, Iz, that’s not it at all. You didn’t do anything wrong,” I assure her, because I see how guilty she feels and it’s not fair for her to blame herself.
“Then why? Why would he blackmail you?” she asks.
“He blackmailed us, because…because he wanted me to convince you to stop running, to go back to nursing and make amends with him to, ah, help his reelection.”
Her gasp of surprise and disbelief is so intense that I’m pretty sure she sucks all the air from my lungs.
“How…” she eventually asks. “How could you?”
“I’m done, okay?” I assure her. “I didn’t know about the Huntington’s or I never would have agreed! I told him I won’t do it; I won’t slow you down. I didn’t know you were racing the clock! I just thought he was worried about the press seeing you on stage or drinking, th-that he was trying to control your life.”
“Wow,” she scoffs with a shake of her head before she starts to go back inside the house. I grab her arm to try and stop her.
“Let me go,” she snaps.
“No. Never,” I tell her honestly. “I’m falling in love with you, Isobel. So go wherever the hell you want. Just please, I’m begging you to let me come with you.”
She shakes her head the whole time I’m talking while tears stream down her face.
“Please, Isobel,” I beg. “Give me another chance.”
She jerks away from me and storms back inside the house wordlessly. I follow behind, shutting our bedroom door while begging her not to leave without me. Despite my pleading, she never pauses as she gets dressed and throws her things back into her luggage.
“I’ll do anything,” I tell her. “Anything to make this up to you!”
Finally, she stops packing long enough to come up to me…and shoves her phone into my chest.
“Here!” she shouts, and the phone falls to the ground when she lets go. My hands feel numb, and I couldn’t have caught it if I’d tried.
“What are you doing?” I ask. “I want you to sit down and talk to me, not give me your fucking phone!”
“Take it,” she says. “There are photos on there, photos of the fake obituary and my mother’s death certificate with her actual date of death. They should be enough to blackmail him right back. He would be ruined if the press figured out what he did. You can have them, just promise me that we’re done. I never want to see you again.”
“Isobel, no,” I say as I reach for her face, but she steps backward.
“No, you don’t get to touch me anymore!” she yells as she throws her purse on. “And if you try to follow me, I’ll…I’ll tell the MC everything you told me!” she threatens before she grabs up her luggage and guitar case and starts to the bedroom door.
“Please don’t leave me. I love you!” I call out, and she pauses at the door for a second, her shoulders slumped. For one single moment, I think I may have gotten through to her. But then she yanks the door open, and War and Torin are on the other side.
“Everything okay in here?” Torin asks, looking between us.
“Get out of my way,” she tells him before she shoulders past with her things. “Make sure he doesn’t follow me!”
“Fuck!” I exclaim to the ceiling because I know I’ve lost her for good.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Isobel
My head is so messed up that I have to pull over on the side of the road just a few miles from the house. I don’t have the slightest idea what I’m doing or where I’m going.
Somehow that pisses me off more than Sax’s betrayal.
Yes, I’m angry at him for lying to me and not telling me the truth about my father’s blackmail from the beginning. But mostly I’m distraught because I had a plan. A good plan! One where I did whatever I wanted, when I wanted.
Now, I don’t have the first clue how to pick back up and continue on my journey alone, the one I had once been so excited about.
Sax took that joy from me, and I want it back!
How the hell do I get it back?
Tears continue to stream down my face for several long minutes and I let them, hoping that, as soon as they dry up, things will be clearer.
I was wrong.
I may have stopped crying, but I still don’t know what to do or where to go from here. I need a drink or ten to try to forget where I’ve been and who I’ve been with.
Then I remember the bar in Charlotte.
It’s better than sitting in my car crying alone, so I plug in the address into my GPS and follow the robotic voice’s step-by-step directions.
I still have three states to sing in, and North Carolina, my home state, is ironically one of them. Why haven’t I done it before? I suppose I didn’t want to chance being recognized as the governor’s daughter.
Now though? I really don’t give a shit. I hope someone sees me with my hair back to normal again and then my father is inconvenienced for a little while. It would serve him right, since he doesn’t seem to mind screwing with my life.
Several hours and three drinks later, I’m feeling slightly better as I sing away my sorrows on stage.
Right up and until “I Hate Myself for Loving You.”
God, the lyrics have never been truer than now.
I don’t hate Sax for what he did. I hate myself for trusting him, for falling for his good looks and charm.
I can’t even begin to find the strength to sing “Angel of the Morning” to the small lunch crowd, so I thank them for letting me vent my feelings through music and then leave the stage.
Maybe I need to get out of this state, out of the country.
I could still make it to the Balloon Fiesta if there’s a flight…
But the idea of leaving just doesn’t feel right. Not even the excitement of checking off an item on my bucket list makes me feel better. If anything, it feels empty, unlike before I met Sax when I felt euphoric.
I’ve never felt more alone than I do now, and it’s all Sax’s fault.
God, I wish I had never met him. Except, I don’t wish that. Not really. Damn him and his ability to give me so many orgasms he short circuited my brain and made me fall for him!
I also hate the thought of Sax spending the rest of his life in prison because of my father. So what do I decide to do?
Maybe the stupidest thing ever.
I go home to ensure Sax and the Savage Kings won’t suffer by my father’s hand.
Not that I really have a home anymore, but I drive back to Raleigh all the same.
The mansion is locked when I get there, so I bang on the door until it opens. Even after almost four years, dear old dad never gave me a key, the jerk.
Imagine my surprise when he opens the door for me and not one of his minions.
“What did you want?” I ask him. “Me to dye my hair back? Done. Get back into nursing? I’ll try. Go to town hall meetings with you? Fine, I’ll do five and no more. And finally, I’m guessing you wanted some of mom’s money.” Pulling out a pen and my checkbook from my crossbody purse with shaking hands, I ask him, “How much? I’ll write you a fucking check. But if I do this, you will never go after Sax or his friends again.”
“Okay,” he agrees, almost too easily as he blinks at me.
“Swear it to me. Swear it on mom’s grave!” I yell at him.
“I-I swear.”
My fingers tremble as I fill out all the little blanks on the check. And I get really pissed off when I even drop the damn pen. Twice. But I get it done eventually. Tearing the piece of paper free, I fold it in half and slip it into the front of his dress shirt pocket.
“I hate you more than words could ever express,” I say truthfully before I turn to leave.
“Where are you going?” he calls out.
“Danny’s,” I answer. “You can send all messages and dates of appearances through him. I don’t want to see or speak to you ever again.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Sax
I haven’t heard from Isobel since the day she left, but I didn’t really expect to. She has every right to be pissed at me. What I did was the worst betrayal imaginable to her because it involved her father, who had lied to her about her mother and her own health. Still, I’m not going to give up.
First, I just need to take care of business with the Kings, and, if I’m still alive after I tell them the truth, I won’t stop until I find Isobel, or I’m thrown in jail by the governor.
And while I have the photos Isobel gave me that cast the governor as a horrible human being who lied about his wife’s death, I’m still not sure if it’s enough to keep him from coming after the Kings. When I sent him screenshots of the photos from my phone, telling him I would send them to the media if he made a move against any of the Savage Kings, his only response was “We’re good.”
We’re. Good.
I’m anything but fucking good, missing Isobel like hell these past few days, and hating myself for hurting her. But hopefully that means he’s actually backing off. Still, I need to warn the guys, which is why I call a meeting as soon as Cooper is up for it. He didn’t get the best news from the audiologist today, and we’re still looking for who’s responsible for the bombs.
“Any updates on suspects?” Torin asks Reece first, before the meeting begins.
“Actually, we just received one,” the military man says solemnly. “This was spray painted in red on the side of the Savage Asylum last night. The sheriff deputy ran the artist off before they could finish. I was just waiting for Kira’s parents to translate what was written for us.”
“So it was in Russian. So we sure it’s the Russians coming after us to get revenge?” Torin asks him.
“Looks like that’s a safe bet.” Reece’s phone dings in front of him on the table. He picks it up and reads the screen before sharing it with us. “The Savage Kings will all be poor dead peasants when I’m through with – and that’s all he had time to write.”
