by Eve R. Hart
“I’ll talk to Ethel. You know if there is somethin’ strange goin’ on then she’s the one to know about it,” I said. Ethel always came to me when she saw something was out of place. She was our unknown ears in an unofficial way. She was smart enough to know we weren’t completely legal. And wise enough to not ask questions as well as keep her mouth shut about it.
“Anyone else have anythin’ to add?” The room was quiet. Cal banged his fist on the table ending the meeting. The mood was strained and somber as we piled into the bar area. Most of us drank our beers in silence.
Bocca’s voice filled the big area, lightening the heavy mood with his loopy rants of insanity. He was spouting things that I was sure made no sense to anyone but him. He was sprawled out on his stomach on the couch. Jackass was only wearing his boxers that had candy hearts all over them. And yelling some kind of nonsense about bees trying to befriend him and steal his hair. There were a few giggles that escaped him. It was hard not to laugh at the poor fucker. He’d never live that shit down.
Tammy was hanging around Bocca. I didn’t even give her one glance. I was still pissed at her over what happened while I was away in Tennessee. She had tried a few times to talk to me, but every time I ignored her ass. I may not have claimed Reagan as my own, but she knew what she was doing, and she knew she was in the wrong. Her shit was really starting to make me rethink letting her stay here. However, I didn’t have a good reason to bring it up with Cal. Plus, I knew most of the boys liked her and she treated them well in that respect. I realized it wasn’t too long ago I let her do the same to me.
I could still smell Reagan on me, even through the stale air in the clubhouse. My mind went in so many different directions. Part of me smiled. If I was being honest, I liked being marked by her. I liked that she let me in. And most of all, I liked the way she made me feel.
She had been there for me, no questions asked. She gave me all of her even if it was just for a brief moment. My thoughts drifted to how it would be to have her by my side. How it would be to come home to her and wake to her beautiful face.
The wiser part of my brain shook it off. I was too old. She was too free and headstrong. She didn’t want me. I shrugged the actions of what happened off. It was only because she found me at a weak point and she was such an amazing person she just wanted to make me forget. In a strange way, she was just being a good friend or something. I couldn’t figure it out. And the more I thought about it, the more my head began to hurt.
The club life wasn’t an easy one to live. It suited the lot of us because most of us were damaged or lost or broken in some way. We were seeking loyalty and a sense of family. That’s what you got with the MC. Brothers to watch your back. People that were there for you whenever you fucking needed it. And when you took on an old lady, she became part of that too. Not too many of us had one, but we all treated them with respect. In turn, the women were there when we needed. Like Stone’s old lady, Melody. She was often around making us food and looking out for us. But she also didn’t ask questions and knew the dangers that may come from the things we did. It wasn’t a life for just anyone, and part of me wondered if it would ever work for Reagan.
On the one hand, Reagan was strong enough to handle it. I knew that. She wasn’t afraid and she had a backbone of fucking steel. However, she didn’t seem like the kind of person to let things slide. If she wanted answers, I knew she would go after them, and she wouldn’t back down. It wasn’t a life she deserved. She had the world at her feet and being with me would only drag her down and chain her to this lifestyle.
This was why I never really tried to find someone to stand at my side. Brothers came first. The club was always number one priority. That was how I saw it. Hell, that was how we all saw it. I didn’t ever think that I could split myself into two like that. Juggle the happiness of the club and a woman at home. Maybe I just wanted the simple life. If there wasn’t someone there, then there would never be the situation where I would have to choose. But then there was Reagan. She was turning my world upside down and making me question many of my choices and thoughts.
The thing was, I didn’t know if I liked it or not.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Reagan
“Oh, God!” I sucked in a harsh breath at the sight of Bocca. He shuffled into the bar looking rough. “What the hell happened to you?”
He was limping and his face grimaced with every step. His arm was in a sling and it looked like someone had taken a cheese grater to the side of his face and arm. I ran around the bar and hesitated in front of him. I wanted to throw my arms around him and hug him tight, but I didn’t want to hurt him worse than he already was. He threw his good arm around my shoulders and gave me a cocky grin.
“Had an oopsie. I look cool, right?” He winked at me and I shook my head at him.
“You’re crazy, you know that, right?” I patted his stomach. I wondered if this was part of what had been eating at Nate the night I found him sitting on his front porch stairs. I had an idea that something happened on that night. And I had a feeling Bocca being shot was part of what was worrying Nate. It had to be the reason why everyone seemed to be in a down mood the past week. I sighed internally, wishing I could make it better for all of them. I ran my fingers lightly over the rough skin along his jawline. To his credit, he didn’t even wince. That shit looked gross.
“Tell me the truth, Reagan. Did I mess up my handsome face?” He carefully situated himself on the barstool, half of his ass hanging off the side. I eyed him suspiciously.
“Nah,” I said shrugging. “You weren’t that handsome to begin with.” I went back around the bar and handed him a bottle.
“Ouch! Damn brother, looks like you lost your touch,” Crow said standing beside him, laughing at my jab. I handed Crow a new beer and shot him a wink before he walked away.
“You hurt my heart, doll face.” Bocca feigned sadness. I laughed and swatted at the air in front of him.
“You don’t fool me. And besides, you know the ladies all love an injured man. I’m sure you have more than one playing nurse to you.” I rolled my eyes as he a wide smile stretched across his face like I had hit the nail right on the head.
“You want me to add you to that list? I can always use another set of hands for my sponge bath.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
“Not in this lifetime.” Nate’s voice was deep behind me, making me jump a little. I knew Bocca was only messing around. But apparently, Nate didn’t like it even a little. His hand came to rest at the small of my back and I bit back a smile. “Or the next. Fuck! Just, not ever.” It was hard not to feel giddy over the possessiveness going on right now. It was moments like this that made me wish for more with Nate. However, it never seemed to last long.
“Loud and clear, brother,” Bocca mumbled into his beer.
“So, you gonna tell me what actually happened, or should I continue to let my mind run wild?” I asked trying to ease the weird tension hanging thick in the air. Nate’s hand slipped away from my back, but he lingered there, so close that I could feel the heat coming off of his body. My breath caught in my chest and my heart was racing. This seemed to be the normal reaction from my body whenever he was near. You would think I was used to it, but it felt new every time.
“I got shot. Don’t worry that pretty little head, girl. Nothin’ major,” Bocca replied. He said it with a casual tone and shrug. I wondered if this was his first gunshot wound. “One in the ass. That shit ain’t cool, man.” He downed his beer and I got him another one. I almost want to laugh. The fucker got shot in the ass. If it wasn’t such a serious thing, it would have been funny.
My mind raced with all the reasons to why he would be in a situation where he could be shot. I knew Nate was more than likely there when it happened and it was a cold shock to my system. Nate could have been shot. My body tensed and I knew they both noticed. I was starting to sweat from all the panicking thoughts. I gave some excuse and made my way around the bar to check on the ot
hers. I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want Nate to say something to try and ease my fear. And I definitely didn’t want him to even know how scared I felt about the thought that he could have gotten hurt.
I tried not to over analyze what had happened with us. He hadn’t exactly been avoiding me, but he wasn’t inserting himself into my life more than normal either. So what was there to think? He thought it was a mistake and didn’t want to admit it to me? Were we just going to go in like nothing happened and never talk about it? The girl in me wanted to know what was going on in his mind and if I meant anything to him. The girl parts of me wanted another go-round or two.
Feeling slightly insecure and wrecked, I decided it was best to just play along with his plan. I didn’t let on that I was a wash of emotions inside. I did my best to shake it off. It happened, it was done, end of story. Right? Yeah, I was a damn mess when it came to Nate and I didn’t know what the hell to do about it.
The rest of the night I tried to keep everything light. I made it my mission to lift the spirits of everyone who was there, most of all Bocca. I made him laugh. Although, I was sure whatever kind of pain medication he was on made me seem funnier than I actually was. Nate and I didn’t say anything else to each other for the rest of the night, but I could feel his eyes on me at all times. The one time I broke down and looked at him, he gave me a tiny half smile. It was almost sweet and made me wonder if he had a soft side he wanted to unleash. The hot and cold of the Nate situation was dizzying.
The next few weeks that followed, I didn’t see much of the guys outside of the bar. And even then, the times they came in turned scarce. There was something going on, but I had no place to ask. So, I kept my mouth shut and did my job. At the end of the night, I went home and let the worst thoughts eat me away. There was too much going on. I still had horrifying nightmares every night. Only now they were a mix of Lance coming after me and whatever darkness surrounded Nate. I just couldn’t seem to turn my mind off. I woke up every time in a shaking sweat. Then I would cry myself to sleep again. The images that played in my head were different but always had the same horrifying outcome. Then they started to morph into one thing.
It was always started off with Lance finding me and it always ended with Nate’s death instead of mine. I tried to keep things wrapped up, tight. I hoped that the problems would go away and wouldn’t spill into the rest of my life and the people around me.
But it seemed that my mind was trying to make me see differently. I couldn’t let myself crack. That was not an option. I still held onto the idea that this was my problem and I had to deal with it. The thing was, I didn’t know how to. I didn’t have the first clue on what to do. Other than running, that was. To keep moving so the bad things couldn’t catch up to me. But I didn’t want to run. I didn’t want to move. Something about being in that small town felt safe. It felt like home. For the first time in years, I was surrounded by people who wanted to be around me. People that cared about what I had to say and listened to my stupid stories. People that looked out for me. And I hadn’t realized up until that moment that I craved that in my life. For the first time, I was starting to feel whole and settled.
I decided there was only one thing to do, keep my walls up and hope for the best. Push forward and hit everyday head on. There was no way Lance knew where I was. He didn’t know anything about me. I kept my shit private and the one person who could’ve helped him was dead.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Loch
A month went by and the mood at the club was a mix of anxiety and anger. The silence from the Dogs only reinforced the feeling that something was off. Perhaps laying low was the best thing, but we didn’t like to be blind. And that was what we were. Buncha guys wearing blindfolds in a pitch black room. Whatever was coming was not good, and we could all feel it deep in our bones. We just didn’t fucking know when it would hit us. Everyone was stressed out and on edge, and nothing Cal or I did would ease that.
I had been spending more time at the clubhouse. I’d gotten behind on the paperwork for the bar. Paperwork that didn’t really matter, if I was being honest. But if it was ever going to be a legit place, then I needed to keep up with it.
I decided to head there. I figured I could spend the afternoon making sure everything was was kept up. I also wanted to make sure the orders had been taken care off. I knew Reagan and Chris were staying on top what they could. I had no doubt that in my absence they would keep the place looking as decent at it could look. The bar should’ve been stocked and the money locked up in the top draw of my desk every night. That was pretty much the only thing I needed from them.
Word had gotten around that Reagan somehow managed to draw in more townies to come to the bar. I didn’t doubt it helped that most of us were hunkered down at the compound. Not that we were hated in town. But I got the idea that people were under the assumption that the bar was our place. They stayed away out of respect, in a way. Even though, I doubted if any of us would care if they inhabited the place. It was always nice to have a different face to talk to.
Reagan even convinced me to order some karaoke machine thing. She set up Thursdays as the night dedicated to that. It gave me a headache just thinking about it. But if it made her happy then, fuck, she could have whatever she wanted. She had also added more bottles of liquor. She even kept up with fresh fruits and shit to make those girly drinks she went on and on about. I never once saw her drink one, though. It brought people in and part of me was happy. It was turning into a real business. I needed something positive to look at in the middle of the shit storm around me.
Reagan and I never talked about that night. A whole month went by and all I wanted to do was touch her, to kiss her, but I held myself back. When she came to me, it was usually about the bar. A few times, it was to ask if I could fix something for Ethel. I had a feeling that if Ethel hadn’t of asked her to ask me, she never would have. I wanted more, but I could tell she still had her walls up. The fact that she left that night was proof that she wasn’t ready for things to turn into an us. Not that I was sure it was a good time for me, anyway. I never wanted to put her in danger, and things were very much that right now.
I checked in with Cal, finding he had nothing new to tell me, then headed to the bar. It was a little after three and I knew Reagan wouldn’t be there yet. The bar was locked up, so I parked around the back and let myself in the rear entrance with my keys. I prayed that I would go unseen and no one would come pestering me about club shit. I figured it was best to not open just yet and if my bike was out of sight no one would think to stop.
I walk the floor to find it much cleaner than a week ago when I’d stopped by. The walls looked like they had been scrubbed down. The tables and chairs the same. Don’t get me wrong, the place was still a shit hole. Only it wasn’t a sticky shit hole now. There was a little area in the back of the bar that had been cleared out. The karaoke machine was now sitting in the middle of that space. There were definitely more bottles along the back wall behind the bar. I shook my head at the blueberry vodka. This isn’t a fucking club, I thought. Then I laughed. Reagan was trying and I was grateful for it. Even if she had no idea that I eventually wanted to turn the place into a legit business, she was helping work towards that goal. It was the little things she did sometimes that really got to me. Like somewhere we were connected on a different level. Like she just knew what was going on in my head and life without me having to tell her.
Shaking off the strange emotional feelings I was having, I took a mental stock behind the bar. Then went to the stockroom and did the same. Seeing that everything looked like it had been taken care of, I headed into my office. The old, leather chair creaked under my weight as I sat down. The noise made the place seem too quiet and still.
I looked up to find a poster on the wall in front of me. One that wasn’t there the last time I’d been in the office. It was in black and white. A woman with pin-up style curves was straddling a bike. Her back was facing the camera. She was
topless. But her arm was outstretched holding the handlebars, blocking the view of her nipple. A tattoo of a tiger like it was stalking its prey covered her back. Her long dark hair in big curls cascading down her back, obstructing part of her tattoo. She was wearing a pair of tight, black pants and high platform stilettos.
I found myself smiling and thinking of Reagan in place of the woman on the poster. What I wouldn’t give to see her sitting on my bike topless. My dick started to stir in my jeans. It was almost pathetic how quickly I could get hard just thinking about Reagan. I wanted her, there was no doubt about that. But I wanted more of her, too. I wanted it all. A dull ache hit my chest knowing it would never happen. I found myself mindlessly trying to rub it away with my fingers.
I brushed those thoughts away and started counting money. After that was done, I locked it up in the safe. I added up what the bar had made every night and saw the numbers, while still small, grew a little more each night. I got lost in thoughts of how life would be after this shit with the club was all over. Would this place make it? Would the club make it? What the hell else could we open to make money?
The impending danger was making its way to the front of my head. I sighed and leaned my forearms on the edge of the desk. The weight of it all hitting me hard. My head hung as sadness and frustration washed over me.
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know anyone was here.” Reagan’s voice broke through the silence sometime later. I was so in my head that I didn’t even hear the door open. My head snapped up and I looked at her. “Hey,” she said, her tone held a tenderness to it and her face softened as she looked at me.
“Hey,” I said in a deep, croaked voice. I cleared my throat as she stepped closer, closing the door behind her.
