Chase & Chloe

by Simone Elise

  And I had to.

  I had to be held accountable.

  ***

  "This," Oliver stuffed his mouth.

  "Is amazing." Archie finished Oliver's sentence and then continued to stuff his mouth as well.

  They were all eating like they hadn't seen food before. Mom’s lasagne was a hit. It was a meal she would cook when I was younger. I once helped her cook. The church meals, dinners, all of it, and to think that was only a year ago. I sipped from my beer and kept my eyes on the plate in front of me on purpose. I was brought up being her right hand in the kitchen.

  I guess the lessons had paid off.

  "Where did you learn to cook?" Declan asked. He was sitting next to me, and his arm brushed mine as he reached for his beer.

  Simple question, so why did it bring up every memory I had of mom in the kitchen, laughing and helping her, preparing church meals. She always said it would make me a good wife one day. I smiled dimly at that. She was wrong.

  "Mom taught me." I gulped down my beer. "How is your mom by the way?" I changed the subject.

  Declan grinned and faced me. "Good. Jess and Sammie are still whining about not being allowed to see you though."

  "I'm not that special." I put my beer down and poked at the lasagne. I should really eat something. Who knew when I would be getting a meal again?

  "What do you know, she eats!" Oliver exclaimed across from me.

  I gave him the finger and swallowed my food.

  I would need my strength for later. Marc was right when he said I hadn't slept properly. Still, I knew once I got to prison I could do as much sleeping as I wanted.

  "You know when you ran from us, Ace?" Oliver hadn't finished annoying me.

  "Yep."

  "When did you get so fast?"

  I looked at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

  "You have always been fast, but you were quicker than me."

  "I've always been quicker than you." I gave him a playful smile.

  "Oliver, you watched her spend hours on that treadmill. What did you expect?" Marc snapped at him.

  Oliver and him then got into an argument about who watched me more.

  I couldn't help but roll my eyes.

  "I think these two are fighting over you," Declan whispered in my ear.

  I turned to smile at him, but my eyes glanced up the end of the table. Why hadn't I felt his eyes on me? His eyes were intense, dark, yet inviting, making me chew my bottom lip and then look away.

  Just don't let him in. The closer he got, the more he was going to get hurt. He was going to wake up alone tomorrow, and he had to know I wasn't coming back. There was nothing he could do to get me back. Not this time.

  Chapter 50

  Chloe's Point of View

  The dishes were done. The boys had headed for bed and I was wiping down the dining table. The boys were worn out. I had made them drive nearly a full day without stopping so no wonder they were tired.

  Chase had hovered, but he had gone to bed too. I wanted to go say goodbye to him. I wanted to tell him thank you. Instead, I saw the car keys on the kitchen island. Time for action and all I needed to do was find a police station.

  I picked up the car keys.

  You can do this, Chloe. You have to do this.

  I walked through the dining room and hovered at the bottom of the stairs. He was up there. He was most likely waiting for me, or maybe he assumed I was sleeping down here tonight.

  Bloody hell, Chloe! It doesn't matter! You're leaving.

  I walked to the front door, my grip on the door tightening. Why did it feel like I was about to make a mistake? Hell, I wasn't making a mistake; I was going to fix one.

  I had taken a life.

  I needed to be held accountable.

  Simple.

  I opened the door and closed it softly behind me. I pressed the button, and the silver car that was always parked across the street from my house flashed. I took the porch steps quickly.

  "Took you long enough."

  Freezing on the spot, I bit hard on my bottom lip and turned around to look up at him.

  "Chase."

  He got out of the chair, stepping into the light. He was looking at me like I was a disappointment, like I had ripped out his heart and spat on it, like I had another option and I had chosen to leave him, again.

  Didn't he see I was taking the only option I had? He stepped down the porch stairs. His arms were crossed. It was dark out, but the porch light was casting a shadow over him, making him look even bigger as he towered over me.

  "I expected you to run as soon as I left you." Chase spoke down at me harshly.

  "I'm sorry." I didn't know what else to say, but I took another breath quickly. "But you have to let me go." Didn't he see that? God, it was so obvious.

  "No."

  He was being stubborn and pig-headed. I groaned and ran my hand through my hair.

  "It's the only option," I wanted to yell it at him. To make him see it. "Fine, you won't accept it, but it's happening." I spun around. "You will get over it." I walked towards the car. Once I was in it, he couldn't stop me.

  My hand gripped the door handle. I felt his hand wrap around my arm and he pulled me away from the door.

  "Stop it, CHASE!" I twisted and pulled on his grip, but it only tightened. His other arm wrapped around my waist and he pulled me away from the car.

  "I'm not letting you go!!"

  "You don't get to decide this."

  I fought him. My back pressed hard against his chest, lifting me off the ground. I could hear his ragged breathing in my ear and felt the rising of his chest as he fought with me. His arm wrapped around my waist was pushing into my bruises, and I swore one of my ribs was broken by the pain that was spitting through my body.

  "Listen to me!" Chase yelled in my ear.

  I didn't listen. I continued to kick and push on his arm. "Just let me go!" I was ready to face my fate.

  "No," he hissed in my ear. "Here, give me those." He snatched the keys off me and then let me go.

  "Give them back!" I inhaled sharply and reached for them, but he was quicker, putting them in his pocket. "Fine." I threw my hands in the air. "I'll walk." I started to follow the dirt driveway.

  "You said something earlier." Chase spoke to my back as I kept walking. "You said you were mine."

  Why was he bringing this up? What was the point? "Your point?" I kept walking.

  "My point," he grabbed my wrist, pulling me to a stop, forcing me to look at him, "Is you have to trust me." His hands cupped my face. "Please trust me."

  Why was he doing this to me? My heart was pounding in my ears, pounding and telling me to stay, to listen to him and to trust him. He pried my bottom lip from my teeth and he dipped his head.

  "Please, baby girl. Trust me."

  He knew what to do in these types of situations. He had killed someone before; he hadn't run to the police. Why though? I knew the answer to that question… because he didn't believe in what the law stood for.

  A living, breathing outlaw.

  Why the hell was I believing one word that came out of his mouth?

  More importantly, why did I want to?

  "I..." I started, but my body went stiff at his touch. I wanted to melt into it. I closed my eyes. "I can't let you change your life for me. To turn away from your charter. To stay here, hiding out. You’re putting your life on hold for me and I won't have it."

  "We won't be hiding." His thumb ran over my bottom lip. "I lived without you. I hated it. Where my charter is doesn't matter to me."

  "You love that your charter moves. You love going from state to state." My hand covered his that was cupping my cheek. "Don't lie to me and say it doesn't matter."

  "You matter more."

  I groaned. "See? You had to pick! I didn't want you in that position!"

  I was just complicating his life. Didn't he see that? Didn't he see I wasn't worth it
?

  "Chloe, stop focusing on a decision I've made." He brought my head up to his. "I'd do it again. Now come to bed. You need sleep, and you barely fucking ate at dinner."

  It was as if my concerns didn't worry him. He was more worried about me instead of the situation I had caused him.

  He let go of my face and took my hand. Everything was telling me that this was my chance to run. He only thought he loved me. I could destroy that. Make him cut ties. I knew I had it in me. A few hurtful words and he would forget all about me.

  "Come on, Chloe." He pulled on my arm. I was still frozen on the spot. Still deciding.

  I could do it. I opened my mouth, and I found myself not wanting to. Spending the rest of my life with him didn't sound like a bad idea. Hell, I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him but I didn't deserve that.

  I loved him too much to hurt him. I couldn't bring myself to do it. So I gave in and let him guide us back to the house, even if he didn't love me. Hell, how could he? Still, at the very least, I knew he had liked me. He had to, otherwise he wouldn't have done what he was willing to do for me.

  Was it out of guilt?

  Or did he like a side of me that was now dead?

  What would he do once he realized that side of me was gone? I guess I would have to find out the hard way. If he changed his mind, I wouldn't hold it against him. I'd understand, but if I was going to come out of this with a heart still beating, I needed to guard it.

  ***

  Chase closed the bedroom door and I sat on the edge of the bed. I felt out of place, like I wasn't nice enough to be in this type of luxury. Sure, my family house was nice, but it didn't scream rich. The comforter I was sitting on was deluxe and felt like a cloud under my hand.

  "You alright?"

  I looked up. I had been so focused on my surroundings I forgot about Chase, who was standing a mere foot away from me, looking concerned.

  "I'm fine," I lied. I was so out of place. I wasn't the type of girl that got the nice house and a boyfriend. I was the type of girl that got beaten, abused and spat out. I got up and walked around the bed. Who was I kidding, he wasn't my boyfriend. "Just tired."

  The look in his eyes told me he wasn't buying what I was selling, but he nodded his head. I threw back the blankets and got in. I didn't take my clothes off. The less skin-to-skin contact, the better.

  Plus my body looked like a battlefield right now.

  I put my arm out, ready for it to be tied. "Don't forget to…" I started saying it and regretted it as soon as words left my lips and I realized where I was; more importantly, who I was with. I wasn't at home. Chase wouldn't be tying me to a bed post. There wasn't even a bed post! It was a black leather bedhead.

  "Don't forget to...what?" he asked, taking his shirt off.

  I quickly took my eyes off him and just shook my head. "Never mind."

  The softness of the bed swallowed my body. I closed my eyes. God, this bed was amazing.

  I barely noticed the dip of the bed as Chase got in.

  It was so big. If I stayed to my side, maybe I would survive the night, but if he touched me, I would melt.

  My eyes went wide when I felt his hand on my side. I swallowed hard and stayed stiff. I was on a mission to guard my heart, and him touching me only tore my body in half. Half of me questioning it, while the other half wanted more and loved it.

  My stiffness must have been enough to scare him off because I felt his hand leave me and he didn't pull me towards him. No. He went back to his side of the bed.

  I inhaled sharply. I closed my eyes and let my body rest.

  Chase's Point of View

  I knew she would run, which was why I waited. Now I just hoped she had come to the realization that running wouldn't solve her problems.

  It was early morning and I was watching her sleep. I reached for my bedside table and grabbed a cigarette, needing one now more than ever after watching her for the past half an hour.

  Just watching her chest slowly rise and fall. She was lying in a weird angle, and I still couldn't work out why.

  She was facing me on her right side, but her left arm was back, as if it was stuck to the corner or something. She didn't look comfortable, but she was sound asleep.

  I could tell she didn't want me to touch her last night so I didn't. I somehow had moved into the middle of the bed overnight. It wasn't totally surprising, since I was used to sleeping by myself. What did surprise me was waking up with her leg over mine. I thought she would be glued to her side by the way she was acting last night when we went to sleep.

  I put my cigarette in the ashtray and looked more closely at her hand, mainly her wrist. Why did it look like she had been tied to something? I lifted her arm up carefully, and it slowly bent and I looked down at her wrist, my thumb running over the marks.

  It didn't make sense.

  She stirred, but didn't wake. I lifted the blankets up and put her arm down, pulling the blankets over her. She was fully dressed. I doubted sleeping in jeans was comfortable, but fuck if I knew the inner workings of her mind.

  I needed to get up. I had phone calls to make. I had to get back on the grid; get the charter set up and get the plans for the clubhouse out and get the boys’ input. There was an old motel off the highway for sale. I was considering buying that and putting the clubhouse on it. It provided accommodation for the members and had a basic garage next door, which was also for sale.

  I got out of the bed slowly.

  She sighed, but didn't wake.

  I walked to the wardrobe and grabbed fresh jeans and a shirt, then I saw my vest hanging up. It had been a while since I wore that. It had basically been glued to my back since I got it when I was sixteen as a prospect.

  I pulled it off the hanger. I was getting back on the grid. Time to wear it again and I was bloody glad too. I noticed my holsters hanging beside it. I had only been carrying one gun on me since I got here. Sometimes I wouldn't even take that.

  But I had Chloe here now.

  I pulled on my jeans and then shirt. Grabbing my leg holster, I put that on first. I opened a drawer and pulled out a smaller gun, clipping it in place. I then grabbed my holsters and threaded my arms through it, putting the guns into my sides. I shrugged on my vest and, darn, it felt good to be back.

  Sammie and Jess had designed this room. They said it was a 'girl’s dream.' I just saw a shitload of clothes.

  I caught my reflection in the mirror.

  I looked at myself. The President patch was over my heart. The road boys’ patch would have to come off, but everything else stayed, the patches which had come through my years of service. Chloe was worried about killing one man, but if she could understand the patches I wore, she would realize I had sent a lot more men to an early grave.

  I guess that was the criminal code. Only another biker would understand the patches and respect them.

  I walked out. She was still asleep. Good. It gave me more time to get shit done because, once she woke, I wouldn't be able to stay away from her. I had to prove to her that we weren't a temporary thing; that we had a future. Didn't know how I was going to do it, but the lengths I went to for this woman was inexplicable so I knew somehow, some way, I'd do it.

  Chapter 51

  Chloe's Point of View

  No one was here. I woke up to an empty house which surprised me because I thought Chase wouldn't let me out of sight after last night. Clearly, he trusted me. Again. He had a right to. I wasn't going anywhere, not until he wanted me to.

  I explored the house. It was huge. I guess he had a big family and he brought it for that reason. What I hadn't seen last night was the back balcony. The open living lounge room walls were lined with windows and doors, and those doors opened on to a balcony that had stairs running down to a river.

  It was stunning.

  I had never lived near the water. I had already run my hands through the water.

  I found the laundry room, which wa
s the reason why I explored the house. I was in Chase's room picking up his dirty washing when I heard the front door.

  Thank God they were back. I hated being alone.

  I picked up the last pair of Chase's jeans and put them in the basket. He had just been kicking his dirty clothes into the corner of the wardrobe. I heard someone jog up the stairs.

  Walking out with the basket, I saw one of the bedroom doors open. I knocked and saw Oliver.

  "Ace." He threw me a grin, but his attention was on tearing through his bags.

  "Hey, do you have any washing?" I asked, frowning as he searched for something.

  He stopped what he was doing to look at me. "You're joking, right?" He looked between me and the basket.

  "Who jokes about washing?" I asked. Seriously.

  "You'll do my washing?"

  I nodded my head.

  "And I don't have to do anything. I don't owe you anything?" he clarified, looking at me like I had lost my mind.

  "Yes, Oliver. I will do your washing and no, you won't owe me a thing." Why was he making it a big deal?

  "Thank Christ! I've been waiting for a club girl to do it."

  "So what have you been doing with your dirty clothes then?" If he had been watching me, this had been for months. So what, did he simply just not do the washing? How can you neglect washing?

  "When I'm desperate, I'd buy a new shirt or jeans, otherwise I'd just keep wearing them until they looked ratty." He shrugged his shoulders like it wasn't a big deal.

  "That's disgusting." I pointed a finger at him. "And lazy."

  "FOUND IT!" Oliver pulled out his leather vest.

  Why was he on the hunt for that? I thought they never took it off but, come to think of it, no one had been wearing their vest. Not even Chase last night.

  "Why isn't that on your back?" I asked, readjusting the basket and holding it on my hip.

  "Couldn't wear it when we were watching you but, now we are here, and Chase has his one, I wanted mine." He grinned at me and then started shoving his clothes back in.

  "Don't do that if they’re dirty!" I pushed into the room. Well, that explained his sudden need to wear his vest. So Chase was wearing his again, was he? Why hadn't he been wearing it?