by Lane Hart
A sob rips from my throat as the pain of being abandoned by the one person I thought I could count on comes roaring back.
God, I loved Chase so much. I worshipped the ground he walked on, so his sudden absence in my life without a single explanation fucking destroyed me. My scars and his name on my wrist are the constant reminders of the agony I went through, coming to terms with the fact that the man I loved didn’t really love me, at least not enough to stay with me through the surgeries and recovery.
And I fucking hate that, even though we haven’t spoken in years, he could tell when I was lying to him. How is that possible? It doesn’t make sense. Neither does the idea of him watching me on the news every night. Was he serious? That stupid notion shouldn’t fill my stomach with butterflies. It doesn’t matter if he watches me or if he breaks into my house and cleans up shit. Not once has he apologized to me or explained why he gave up on us.
In my heart, I never gave up on him. That’s why I haven’t been able to get his name erased from my body. I’ve gone to the tattoo removal office at least three times, mostly at my father’s urging, and once when I was first hired at WRBL because they insisted I remove the ink as part of my contract. All three times I left before I even finished the consultation appointment. The studio gave up fighting me on it once I showed them that I could cover it with makeup dark enough to prevent the black letters from appearing on camera.
But seeing Chase tonight, knowing that he’s the one who killed a man and hurt two others on the highway and is into no telling what else with the MC, it’s time for me to finally put the past behind me. Hopefully, I’ll hear from the network in D.C. with a job offer soon.
Until then, I need to quit clinging to the past, to a man I don’t even know, and who I still question if he ever cared about me at all.
I don’t know why he showed up here and said those things when his main purpose was apparently to warn me to stay away from Hector and the MC. But letting this story go is not going to happen, especially not because he asked.
Does Chase think that I won’t turn him into the police because of our history? He didn’t seem to believe me when I made the threat to try to get him to leave. But I don’t owe any loyalty to him. He lost that years ago. Now my safety and my career come first.
I’m not naïve enough to think that Chase wouldn’t hurt me if it meant him or everyone in his club going to prison.
Glancing at the phone that I dropped next to me on the floor, I pick it up with a shaky hand and go to my text messages, typing out a new one because I’m too upset to try and speak to anyone right now.
The response is instantaneous.
Leaning my head back against the wall, I tell myself that this decision is the smartest one for my safety and even my sanity.
If only I could get my heart to agree…
…
Chase
Being in the same room with Sasha, seeing her and getting to be so close to her has my head spinning as I ride back to the clubhouse.
Thinking of how tough she is makes me smile with pride, knowing that she’s learned how to stand up for herself. When we were teenagers, she would always back down when her father chewed her out or her mom raised hell at her; and I always told her to hold her ground with them because it was time for them to stop treating her like a child.
She really fucking hates me, though, which I deserve. I just wasn’t expecting her ferocity. And fuck, it was hot when she slapped me. I want her to yell at me, hit me, kick me, scratch my eyeballs out. Hell, she could do anything she wanted to work her anger out on me, and I’d let her. I know a better, more enjoyable physical outlet for her, but I doubt she would be interested. Yet.
If she still loves me enough to loathe me so violently, then maybe I can find a way to convince her to give me another chance.
After the wreck, Sasha said she never wanted to see me again; and I gave her space, knowing I had caused her enough pain. I didn’t think it was fair to keep harassing her or begging her to forgive me. So, I let her have the one thing she needed at the time — me out of her life, even though I needed her so fucking bad.
Maybe this shit with Torin was fate’s way of giving us a second chance. I won’t fuck it up.
Sasha’s set on getting in the middle of some serious heat, despite my warning. If anything, that probably just got her even more interested in digging, because that girl always did love a dangerous challenge. Nothing got her hotter than when I would take her for a walk on the wild side with me. She loved the thrill, the adrenaline rush as much as I did, which is why we were so fucking perfect together.
When I pull up at Savage Asylum, I spot my brother getting on his bike at the other end of the lot.
“Yo, Torin!” I call out to get his attention as I park and scramble off my bike.
“What’s up?” he shouts back. “I’m finally headed home, Chase. Can this wait?” he asks when I approach him, still straddling his bike.
“No.”
When I’m close enough that no one else can overhear us, I say, “Why the fuck did you meet with Hector Cruz?”
Torin’s eyes lower and his jaw ticks before he answers, letting me know he’s pissed that I found out about that shit. What can I say? I’m fucking awesome at reading people.
“Who told you about that?” he asks, rather than give me an explanation.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Was it that goddamn reporter?” he snaps. Pointing his finger at me, he says, “You need to shut her up, or I will.”
Stepping forward to get in his face so close that his finger digs into my chest, I warn him, “You’re not gonna do shit to her!”
“Back the fuck up. Now,” Torin demands through gritted teeth.
I stare him down for several more seconds before I finally take a step back, my hands balled into fists at my sides.
“Look, if my name gets splattered across the evening news, it’s not good for us, the MC, and definitely not Kennedy. You fucking know that, Chase, so just get the woman to stand down,” he says. “Do you want to know what I was doing with Hector? I was warning him to keep his crank out of our city. Oh, and I told him that the next time someone pointed a gun at one of my men, I’d unload one in his face.”
Goddamnit. He’s lying right to my fucking face.
“That’s it, huh? Nothing else?” I ask, hoping he’ll explain why he was paying Hector stacks of money.
“That’s it,” he lies instead of owning up to anything. “So, do I have your word that you’ll shut this shit down for good?” he asks.
“Yeah, brother,” I agree as I back away from his bike and start to head into the bar.
My guess is that Sasha will be diving into this shitstorm headfirst tomorrow, despite my warning. Actually, definitely in spite of my warning, just to show me that I don’t have any say over what she does.
Boy, is she wrong about that, because wherever the hell she goes, I’m going from now on.
And fuck, I could really use a smoke right now. But when I pull out the pack from the inside pocket of my cut, I look at the damn thing a minute before I toss them into the garbage can just outside the bar with a heavy sigh. I’m still just as pussy whipped as I was ten years ago, not wanting to smell like smoke because I know Sasha hates it.
“Hey, Chase,” Nikki says when she comes up to me as soon as I step into the bar.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“You wanna finish what we started the other night?”
Fuck no.
The response nearly explodes out of my mouth without any thought. But it’s the truth. After seeing Sasha tonight, Nikki naked on my bed spread eagle wouldn’t be half as appealing as Sasha in her pajamas without a bra.
“How about you take care of one of my brothers tonight?” I suggest rather than turn her down flat.
Without waiting for her response, I head to the basement and go straight to my apartment. I consider looking for Abe, but I just can’t show him or anyone else the
photos of Torin, his president, going against the fucking club. Once I do, then my brother will lose all of his respect, and it could ruin us.
Chapter Nine
Sasha
“Hi, thanks for meeting with me, Sergeant,” I tell him when I approach the two-person table on the patio at Darren’s dockside restaurant. It’s almost nine o’clock, so it’s dark out, but they have lights wrapped around every rail to give it a nice romantic glow.
Sergeant Barnes stands up from his chair with a broad smile. “Call me Travis, please. It’s good to see you again, Sasha.” When he leans forward to hug me in greeting, I’m only a little surprised. I mean, I did send him a message asking if he could meet me for a late dinner tonight.
After we separate, I take a seat, setting my purse down beside me before I start glancing over the menu since I’m not sure what to say. While my main reason for wanting to meet tonight was to see if the Highway Patrol has any new information about the accident and the MC, I know I should be excited about having dinner with a handsome man.
Unfortunately, the spark of attraction for more than friendship just isn’t there, and I doubt it ever will be.
Fucking Chase Fury.
A waitress comes to take our drink order, and I go ahead and give her my entrée choice too, trying to speed things along.
“So,” I start once we’re alone again. “How’s the, um, the case going for that highway seventeen accident?” I ask.
“Oh,” Travis replies as his shoulders slump slightly. “Am I on the record? Because I thought this was –”
“Sorry to put you on the spot,” I tell him with a smile. “I’m sure the mind of the reporter isn’t much different from an officer’s, always thinking about work.”
There, I didn’t admit or deny that this isn’t a date. To get dirt, sometimes you have to venture into muddy water. And if flirting with the man a little tonight can get me some information about Hector or the Kings, then it’ll be worth it.
“Right,” Travis says. “We haven’t identified any suspects.”
“Oh, no? That’s too bad,” I tell him, reaching over to give his forearm a light pat and leaving it resting there.
“Yeah, well, we didn’t have enough evidence to ask every member of the Savage Kings to come in for a lineup, and of course, it could’ve been someone wearing one of their cuts that doesn’t have any ties to the MC.”
“Right,” I agree, trying not to sound relieved.
“You’re familiar with the MC, though, aren’t you?” Travis asks.
“Excuse me?” I reply, trying not to let the truth show on my face.
“After your outburst at the scene, I looked you up in the system,” he answers with a smirk. “Your, ah, accident when you were a teenager? Well, I’m guessing Fury was only a prospect at the time, but you had to have known he had ties to the MC, right?”
“Wh-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie, and it’s not even the least bit convincing to my own ears. Shit.
“Chase Fury? From what we hear, he’s now the vice president of the original Savage Kings charter. You two must have been close since he has your name tattooed on his chest.”
“How…how did you know that?” I ask.
“All of his tattoos are listed on his arrest record from the aggravated assault about, what was it? Six, seven years back? That time he took a crowbar to both of the drunk driver’s knees the same day the guy was released from prison for hitting the two of you.”
“Wow,” I mutter as I reach for the glass of water in front of me to take a sip. My mouth has gone as dry as the desert. Chase took out the guy’s knees? I knew he went to prison for assaulting him, but I was in college then, trying to stay focused on getting over a broken heart and getting my degree, so I never knew any of the details. “You’ve certainly done your homework,” I tell Travis.
“Has he contacted you?”
“What? God, no!” I exclaim, a little too loudly for being out in public. Glancing around nervously, I have to clear my throat before I can say, “I-I haven’t seen…Chase since the night of the accident.”
Saying his name out loud is still hard for me.
“He’s dangerous,” Travis says simply, like that’s breaking news. “And he matches the description of the highway shooter, so I wouldn’t be surprised if we find enough evidence to bring him into the station for questioning on a first degree murder and two felony attempted murder charges. If we do, he probably won’t ever walk out again.”
“Right, of course,” I agree with a nod. “That’s awful what happened out there, even if it did happen to three known meth dealers connected to Hector Cruz.”
“Cruz is even more dangerous than Fury,” Travis tells me. “You don’t want to mess with him or start reporting his business on the six o’clock news.”
“As an officer of the law, you don’t think the police should be looking into bringing down one of the biggest drug kingpins on the east coast?”
Picking up his glass of water, Travis shrugs his shoulders. “I’m just a highway patrolman. All I’m worried about are the assholes on the road.”
Wow. I’m getting a really bad feeling about this guy. And now, I’m regretting asking him to meet me tonight.
…
Chase
While I may look like a creepy stalker, watching a woman on a date with a man through a pair of binoculars, I’m really just trying to keep Sasha safe.
I’d rather gouge my eyeballs out than see another man wrap his arms around her or watch her having a romantic dinner with him on the dock. That should’ve been me sitting there across from her.
From what I can tell, even though the fucking place is dimly lit, I’m pretty sure she’s with the trooper bastard that she mentioned last night.
Why would she agree to go out on a date with him tonight, when she didn’t even know his first name yesterday?
I don’t know what Sasha’s up to, but I would like to think that she’s just seeing him to get more information about the shit I told her to stay out of, rather than consider that she’s interested in the asshole.
He’s not her type anyway.
My girl would be bored out of her goddamn mind if she had to spend her life with some straight-ass dickhead cop who doesn’t know how to have a good time by breaking a few rules now and then. And the son of a bitch definitely wouldn’t be able to keep her happy in the bedroom.
Sasha was a wildcat. While she would pretend like she was worried about getting caught, I knew she would rather fuck me in public than in a bed. My bike was just one of the places we hit. There were several places around the school and town where we left wet spots.
I’m guessing Howdy fucking Doody over there wouldn’t do it anywhere except his bedroom with the lights off, missionary style.
Not that I want him and Sasha to end up there tonight, even if I do know she would hate every goddamn second.
After what feels like forever but is probably only fifteen minutes, Sasha stands up and walks away from the table with her purse. I spot her coming out the front door a second later and know for a fact that they haven’t even brought out their food yet.
I nearly chuckle out loud at the sucker’s bad luck, but since my truck windows are rolled down to let some air in, I keep quiet. My bike is too damn loud and noticeable, so for my surveillance to work, it’s my truck tonight. I slouch down in my seat when Sasha starts for the parking lot. She climbs into her classic Mustang, the same one she had in high school that she and her dad rebuilt, and drives away.
Once she’s out on the road, I reach for the key to crank the engine and follow her, but then I see the fucking cop headed my way, so I stay put. He’s got his cell phone up to his ear and a scowl on his face.
I bet he’s calling his mommy to let her know he won’t be bringing Sasha home to meet her anytime soon. His voice drifts through the wind as he gets closer.
“He broke a man’s knees and went to prison for over a year for her. She’s your best bet
at drawing him away from the MC where he’ll be unprotected.”
Son. Of. A. Bitch.
Is he fucking saying what I think he is?
“But you can’t hurt her. She’s a local celebrity. If she goes missing, every asshole up and down the coast will be looking for her. Follow her and wait for Fury to show. Fine! Give it a few days. But if you have to grab her, then do it quietly at her house; then set up the meet. I don’t know! Have her call the clubhouse for him?” he says before he slips into his Mercedes.
And if every fucking thing I just overheard didn’t send up warning flags, a trooper driving an expensive ride like that sure would. They don’t get paid enough for something that fancy. Travis is on someone’s payroll; and if I had to guess based on his phone call, it’s Hector’s.
The Aces at that bar must have told Hector I was there, so he knows I killed his men. And Travis must have found Sasha’s connection to me from her accident report years ago.
From what I heard, the bottom line is that Hector wants to use Sasha to get me alone and put a bullet through my skull for revenge.
Does Torin know? He and Hector seem to be buddies, so why wouldn’t he give him a heads-up that I’m on his shit list?
This asshole cop and I need to have a talk.
If I had to bet, I’m guessing he’ll be on standby waiting for the call from Hector, telling them I’m dead so that he can swoop in and be there for Sasha. She doesn’t need him, and I’ll never let that fucking happen.
But I can’t exactly blow his head off either. I don’t need any more heat on me.
Chapter Ten
Sasha
After my surprise visitor last night, I can’t help but be a little jumpy when I pull into my garage and get out of my car.
While I told Chase to leave, I don’t expect that to be the last I see of him.
The anxiety that’s swirling around my empty stomach is simultaneously accompanied by a tiny sliver of, dare I admit it, hope.
