As if sensing my rage, Sasha turned her calm face to mine. “From your perspective, Zane, is that how the events played out?”
I shook my head. I should have looked at Asa, but I felt compelled to explain things to Sasha. “We never actually got along on a personality level,” I said. “What Asa and I had was pure sex. It was the only language we both spoke. We fought constantly, and both of us were unhappy.”
“You threw me away like trash!” Asa stormed. When I turned to her, her fists were balled at her sides, and her beautiful eyes were like crashing waves. “You made me cry in the middle of your club and walked away without so much as a backward glance.”
It was a simplification of what had happened that day, but I’d never thought to look at it from her perspective. “You didn’t care about me either.”
“I cared about myself.” Her voice was quieter now, hoarse. It looked like she was biting back tears. “And you treated me like shit.”
I stilled. I could feel Sasha’s eyes on me like a hawk, studying my expression. I didn’t know what she saw, but I knew what I was feeling: shame. Because I had treated Asa like shit. I hadn’t realized it at the time because I was so caught up in how unhappy I was and how crazy she acted. I completely forgot that she was a human being, just like every other person on the face of the earth.
“I treated you like shit,” I admitted. “I shouldn’t have, but I did.”
Sasha was silent. She must have been processing everything.
“I’m sorry, Asa. I should have told you that before.”
Asa’s eyes were brimming with tears, but her expression was still hard. “You can make it up to me by marrying me and raising this baby with me.”
It took all my power not to groan out loud. Sasha saved me from having to ruin the apology by saying some nasty things to Asa.
“I think that’s good for today,” she said. “I know we’re a bit early, but I think it’s best if we all take some time to consider everything that’s been said today.”
I looked at her and saw she needed some time too. Sometimes it was exhilarating having Sasha get to know me like this. Other times it wasn’t. I only hoped I hadn’t completely scared her away with everything I’d just admitted.
I walked Asa out and saw her off, then went back into the house to see Sasha. She looked surprised to see me when I re-entered.
“I figured you’d want some time,” she said. She was in her pajamas, a blue cotton t-shirt and a pair of shorts with little hearts on them. I’d found her in the basement, typing notes on her laptop. She’d started using the space as a home office for completing her thesis, she’d told me.
“I don’t need any time,” I said. “What happened between Asa and I feels like so long ago that I barely remember it.”
She closed her laptop and inclined her head up at me. “I meant time to think about what you learned today about Asa. About yourself.”
I chuckled, turning over to the couch and sinking back into it. She stepped around the desk and followed me, but curled up beside me instead of taking the chair across from me. I put my arm around her and pulled her close into my side.
“I wanted to talk to you about it. I’ve made all the peace I need to make,” I murmured, stroking her arm.
She looked up at me, eyes so full of innocence and trust that it felt like a blow to the head. “You didn’t realize how poorly you’d treated Asa until today.” Not a question.
“I guess I didn’t realize that she had feelings under all the thorns.” I shrugged. “Life is all about learning these things.” I pulled her tighter. Her body was warm and soft against mine. “I want to know how you feel after today’s discussion.”
“If I’m worried?” She relaxed down a little, flipping onto her back so her head was on my lap and her face looked up at mine. “I trust you have the best intentions, but you’re a human all the same. I don’t think you meant to hurt her like that.”
There was something more to her words. “But?”
She smiled. “But I think because of how it ended, you need to help her to get her closure.”
I scowled. “How is that my responsibility? She’s a grown woman.”
Sasha reached up and touched the stubble on my chin, caressing me gently. “She’s broken. You helped break her.” Oddly enough, there was no accusation in her tone. She wasn’t angry at me. She wasn’t disappointed in me. This woman truly did accept me.
“Aren’t you supposed to want me to stay far away from my ex?” I asked wryly.
She snorted, dropping her hand back down and sticking her tongue out at me. “Maybe as your current squeeze I am. But as your therapist, I think you guys have some shit to clear up before either of you can move on. Why else would this all be happening now?”
“My current squeeze?” I asked, squeezing her for emphasis.
She giggled. “Whatever you want to call it. I don’t think it can be said quite yet that I’m your girlfriend.”
“You’re not my therapist either,” I said, quirking a brow at her.
She shrugged against me. “I defy definition. I am infinite.”
I chuckled and silenced her with a kiss. She defied definition alright. But she’d have a few titles when all of this was over. For now, she was one thing.
Mine.
There were more truths in Asa’s attack on me than just the personal ones. Things were a mess in my club. I’d spent so much time dotting the I’s and crossing the T’s of the paperwork, keeping everything well and legal, that I’d neglected the people that made The Sick a club in the first place.
I sensed there was a faction growing among my guys that were becoming restless, and other clubs had noticed. I reassured everyone that things were in a transition period, and that changes would be made for the better soon. We’d have more profits, more power, and fewer restrictions. But that didn’t stop the grumblings on the ground. I’d even heard a rumor that one of the other clubs—though I didn’t know which one—would be making a power grab before long. And what a better place to do so than the billiards competition today? In order to get the reins of The Sick, I’d need to be taken out. Maybe not killed, but certainly maimed. And in the chaos, they would snatch up my territory, sink my business, and bring all my unhappy guys to their side.
And right now, there were a few unhappy guys who might welcome such a coup.
I’d divided up my guys between the event and the clubhouse. I’d considered only involving those whom I knew to be loyal, but I thought that itself might cause more discord. I needed everyone on my side for this.
The event was hosted at one of the more prestigious billiards halls downtown, close to the French Quarter. Though patrons hadn’t been permitted to smoke inside for years now, the interior still had a smoky quality to it that seemed to dull the ambient noise. They’d cleared large areas around the tables for the competitors, but a select few VIPs were allowed to roost up by the table—including my girl, Sasha.
It made me so proud to have all the other guys see her with me. And I both loved and hated the looks the other guys were giving her. The ones from The Sick knew better than to ogle my girl, though they hadn’t met her yet. The ones not from The Sick would learn soon enough.
Sasha’s outfit was a departure from the therapist clothes I’d gotten used to seeing her in. She was wearing a tight black tank top and black skinny jeans that clung to her shapely hips and thighs like sin. Her stilettoed feet brought her nearly to my height, but I still had a couple inches on her.
The strange thing was, even though she looked different than Therapist Sasha, her eyes were much the same. They were her concentration eyes. The eyes she used to focus and take in important details. I loved those eyes.
I had a good feeling; not just about the tournament, but about life in general. I was still concerned by the threat of ruin by internal or external opponents in my club, but I was beginning to think this farce with Asa might actually help. Sasha could do it; I didn’t doubt her. She could do anything.
&
nbsp; CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Sasha
I was so out of my element that I couldn’t remember what my element looked like. Or even its shape. I was surrounded by burly bikers with mean expressions and tattoos that would have my mother crossing herself. And she wasn’t even religious.
It was all fine until a man at a podium at the other end of the dimly lit billiards hall called over the contestants for a rules briefing. Zane kissed me quickly and left. It was all I could do not to cling onto the back of his t-shirt and make him drag me along behind him.
I was the semi-girlfriend to the leader of one of the biggest biker gangs in New Orleans—I shouldn’t have been afraid of anything. Asa certainly wouldn’t have been. What would she be doing now if she were in my shoes? For the most part, the people in my vicinity were all members of Zane’s club. They weren’t going to hurt me or antagonize me in any way. And yet I still found myself channeling Asa.
Talk about new lows.
That being said, there were things that I respected about Zane’s former flame. She was fearless, even if it meant being ruthless. She was unbalanced, certainly, but I suspected that if she got all that out of her system, she would make a good mother.
Was she pregnant? If she was, was she pregnant with Zane’s baby? I couldn’t tell. Surely she’d begin to show in a few weeks, but until then I could only base my assumption on loose evidence. She was the opposite of Zane, but still nearly impossible to read. She showed everything on her face, but since it was all at once it was hard to figure out which tick went where. If I could get her to slow down and calm down, I might have a chance to understand her, but I doubted I’d be given the opportunity.
Anyway, none of that mattered tonight. Tonight was all about Zane and all about fun. There was no shoptalk, so to speak. Even though technically I wasn’t even slightly a therapist. It was more interesting than my other job, at least. I’d spent most of the day reading through my text for the second time, trying to find pieces I could slip into my thesis. There had to be another facet of the argument that I’d missed, and I’d been obsessing over it all week.
Edward was little help, if any. His earlier useful dialogue on my treatise had been replaced by apathy. I was too afraid to piss him off to confront him about it. I had most of my thesis done—I could take it from here. I just needed his recommendation when the time came, and so far sucking up seemed to be the only way that would ever happen.
I sipped on my beer and surveyed the small crowd. It was a pretty informal affair, but there was a big enough prize to draw some high rollers. I hadn’t seen any money change hands, but I knew there was some major betting going on here tonight. Zane had filled me in a little on how the system went, and I found it fascinating that an event like this could be layered with so much other activity that the public might never know about.
“You’re Sasha?” a tall, burly man to my right asked. He was wearing a The Sick jacket, so I knew he was one of Zane’s. He towered over me, with a half bristling gray mustache and half barrel chest. He wore a red bandana on his head, which did little to tame the curly mess beneath.
“Yeah.” I smiled brightly, trying to distract myself from how terrified I was.
He reached out a mitt toward me and shook my hand. “I’m Grant. I’ve known Zane since he was a little youngster.”
I chuckled, feeling a little more at ease—even if his handshake had been more like a vice. “You must have lots of stories about him,” I said.
He nodded, crossing his arms and smiling. He had a good smile. “Oh, probably none he’d like me to tell. He used to hang out with my son, Derek, before D went off to study Law.” Grant pulled out his wallet and opened it to the picture inside of a smiling toddler, a pink bow in her wispy hair. “That’s my baby girl, Derek’s daughter.”
“Aw!” I practically cooed. “She is just adorable!”
He beamed at me, then regained his composure and closed the wallet, slipping it back in his pocket. “Zane seems to like you an awful lot. Maybe ol’ Pendleton will be getting his own grandkid soon.”
Before I could laugh, or choke, or really react in any way, Grant pounded me on the back and laughed. “No pressure, honey!”
I smiled and said, “You never know what could happen.”
The worst part about Grant’s statement was that I was more horrified by the idea of Asa having Zane’s kid before me than I was about having a kid. I was still young; I hadn’t even begun to think about kids yet.
Well, that’s a lie. I’d wanted to have kids since I was in high school. I loved babies! But I had so much going on and had never been in a really serious relationship. And could this even be considered a serious relationship? Not yet, I supposed. We were very serious about each other, but we weren’t even completely official yet. Zane’s friends know who I was, but we were keeping it from Asa as much as possible. She was so in her own world most days that I doubted she’d put two and two together if she saw me here.
I must have been making a very concerned expression, because the next thing I knew someone was pounding on Grant’s back and saying, “Don’t scare her like that, Grant!”
I turned to face the person who’d just entered the conversation. He was much younger, probably in his thirties like Zane. His hair was a white blonde that I knew couldn’t be real, and his eyes were a piercing gray. He looked like every girl’s fantasy guy from the early 2000s. Maybe all those guys went into motorcycle clubs after they stopped getting featured in teen magazines.
“I’m Niles,” the man said. I shook his hand too. “Don’t worry about Grant, here. He’s the fussing mother hen of the club. Toughest fucker I’ve ever met until you put a baby or a puppy in front of him.”
Grant smacked Niles on the arm. The latter gritted his teeth and hissed, but said nothing further. I cringed. Grant looked like he could serve one hell of a punch.
“And you’re the resident Billy Idol?” I asked cheekily.
They both broke down into laughter. Niles reached out and put a hand on my shoulder to steady himself as he buckled over. I grinned.
“Zane was right about you,” Niles said. “You look real sweet, but there’s something in you that’s wrong, just like the rest of us.”
I’d never heard the word wrong come out like a compliment before. I smiled even wider, if that was even possible.
“Thank you.” I opened my mouth to ask Niles how long he’d been with the club, but my phone started vibrating in my pocket. Noticing that the number on the call display was the New Orleans East Hospital, I excused myself to the side of the room and answered it. “Hello?”
“Hi, I’m looking for Miss Sasha Walker?”
“Yes, that’s me.” My heart started racing. I leaned against the cool wall for support. Just in case.
“Hi, Miss Walker. I’m calling from the New Orleans East Hospital. Your mother fell down in your front yard and was admitted to hospital following a 9-1-1 call from your neighbor. She’s stable, but you should come down as soon as possible.”
Time slowed to a standstill. It couldn’t be a coincidence. It was the cancer. I knew that without even having to ask. I was glad I’d leaned against the wall, as suddenly standing on my own two feet seemed too tall an order.
“I—I’ll be right there,” I stammered. “Thank you for calling.”
“You’re welcome. Goodbye.”
I slid my phone into my pocket and tried not to sink down to the floor. I couldn’t do that in front of all these people. What would they think of me? What would they think of Zane’s new girlfriend? But I had to go. I had to go right now.
“Hey. Hey!”
Someone was shaking me. I looked up, hoping to see Zane’s face, but it was Grant instead.
“You okay?”
I leaned into him as he steadied me. “I need to go to the hospital,” I said. My tone sounded flat and lifeless.
Niles was over in the next second, a caring hand on my arm. Between the two giant men in front of me and the wall behind m
e, I felt like I was in my own castle of protection. I wondered which of the walls—human or man-made—would stand up better against an assault.
“The hospital? What’s wrong?” Niles started looking over me as if he’d find a bleeding wound.
I feebly shook my head, my senses slowing recentering. “It’s my mom. She’s ill.” I looked up into Grant’s eyes. “Can one of you take me? I came with Zane but…”
Grant nodded. I didn’t have to say anything else. Zane needed to compete. No ifs, ands, or buts. He gently directed me by the arm out of the billiards hall.
I made a pact with myself, in those few steps, that I would be strong by the time I reached the outside. The part of me that broke, with the realization that my mother’s struggle had begun again long before we even imagined it would, needed to be pushed to the side. She needed me. She needed me to be okay and strong and to hold her hand through this. What was hard for me was even harder for her.
Wrecked by the Bad Boy: The Sick MC Page 12
