Wicked Games: MC Romance (Bayou Devils MC Book 8)

by A. M. Myers

  Wiping the tears from my face, I suck in a breath and my body shudders with the aftermath of my meltdown as I turn to look at my bed. I have barely spent any time in this room but tonight, I think I need to sleep here. It’s still too raw but maybe after a good night’s sleep, I’ll feel more equipped to face the reality of my situation tomorrow. Dragging myself off of the floor, I wipe my eyes again and take a deep breath as I sink into the mattress and lie back. As I pull the blanket up over my head, I turn on my side and snuggle into my pillow, my mind still going over everything that has happened with Travis over the past three weeks as tears threaten to fall again.

  “Hell no, you need to go!”

  Jerking up in bed, I scowl as the angry chanting pierces through the clubhouse walls, growing louder and louder with each second. What the hell is that? I throw the blanket off of my legs and sit up in bed before turning to look at the exterior wall. The chanting remains consistent, nagging at me to look for answers but there are no windows in the theater so to sate my curiosity, I will have to go out and interact with people. Turning, I glance at my face in the mirror before groaning and desperately trying to wipe the tears from my face. Not only do I not want Travis to see me crying and have to have that awful conversation but if Lincoln sees my tears, he’ll rip Travis’s throat out and ask questions later.

  “Shit,” I whisper as I stare at my red, puffy eyes in the mirror. This is a lost fucking cause. Looking around the room, I spot my giant sunglasses and decide “fuck it” as I grab them and slip them on before grabbing a hoodie and pulling it over my head. I put the hood up and open the door before shoving my hands in my pockets as I walk out. The clubhouse is empty and the chanting is louder out here so I peek out through the window at the bottom of the stairs. Protestors line the street out front, signs in their hands that tell us to leave Baton Rouge and that we’re all going to jail and my brow furrows.

  What the fuck is going on?

  Turning away from the window, I cross the clubhouse to the front door and step outside. Everyone is congregated by the bikes, watching the people in the street scream with a mixture of fear, sadness, and anger flashing across their faces. Joining them, I step up next to Tate and she glances over at me, frowning at my sunglasses before she sighs and wraps her arm around my shoulders.

  “What’s going on?”

  She shakes her head. “Your guess is as good as mine. What’s with the sunglasses?”

  “Sun’s bright,” I answer, refusing to look at her as I point to the setting sun. It’s barely peeking over the horizon now and there is no way in hell she bought that but I don’t care. The clubhouse door opens and we all turn as Travis walks out. At first glance, his green eyes appear hard and cold but beyond that, there is fear and more pain than I’ve ever seen in him before. He stops when he sees us all huddled together and searches the group until his gaze lands on me and one corner of his mouth kicks up in a half smile. It’s my smile - the one he always gives me when we’re in a room full of people and pain ripples through my chest at the gesture. My heart pounds and tears sting my eyes. Even though I know he can’t see it because of the sunglasses, I still feel like he’s looking right through me and I turn away before he sees the one thing I’m desperately trying to hide from him.

  “Streak,” Blaze calls, turning to watch Streak as he tilts his head toward the crowd. “You got any fucking idea what’s going on here? Or what the hell that reporter was talking about?”

  I sneak a peek over at him as he drops his gaze to the ground and runs a hand through his hair, nodding. When he glances up again, a range of emotions flicker through his eyes.

  “Yeah… I went upstairs and did some research after she showed up and asked us about our website…”

  “We don’t have a website,” Chance says and Travis nods, shifting from one foot to the other before crossing his arms over his chest. I’ve never seen him so out of sorts and despite the ache I feel, I want to comfort him.

  “That’s the thing,” he replies, shaking his head. “We do now and it’s a pretty safe bet that Warren made it for us.”

  Moose scowls, cocking his head to the side. “Okay, but how does that explain this?”

  “Storm’s fake video is on there… as well as seven others, one from each of us. We’re all spewing the same hate the fake Storm did and saying that we’re going to come after the city of Baton Rouge.”

  Oh, shit.

  This is bad.

  “Fuck,” Blaze whispers, horror in his voice as he turns back to the crowd and shakes his head. The white news van is still out front with a professional looking woman interviewing protestors as the rest of the crowd screams their hate at us. The thing is, I can’t blame them. If I was in their position and I saw videos like the one of Storm that was posted, I can see how easily it would be to get enraged and demand justice or take matters into your own hands.

  “How could you have missed this?” Storm asks and I glance over at him as he shoots a glare at Travis and my muscles tighten. Every part of me wants to surge forward, get in his face, and defend my man but if I get too close to Travis, if he touches me, I’ll break. I will fall apart right here in front of everyone and I can’t have that so instead, I cross my arms over my chest and rock back on my heels as I drop my gaze to the ground.

  “I…”

  “You were looking into my video so why didn’t you think to look for others, Streak?” Storm rages, cutting him off and I blow out a breath and keep my gaze fixed on the ground. When silence blankets the group, I peek up. Travis sighs and grabs the back of his neck with a grimace.

  “I didn’t think of it.”

  Storm clenches his fist. “Goddamn it, Streak!”

  “Hey,” Blaze barks, turning back to all of us and commanding our attention as his gaze flicks over all of us. “We are not going to do this. This is a family and we have all been working our asses off to figure this out, including Streak, so knock it the fuck off. That’s an order.”

  His words leave no room for argument and we all nod before turning to Storm. He stares at Travis with disappointment in his eyes but eventually, he nods also.

  “I’m sorry, guys,” Travis whispers and the pain in his voice breaks my fucking heart. The weight of the world is resting on his shoulder and most of the time he carries the burden without complaint but tonight, he looks like he’s going to break. My chest hurts, this time for the man I love with every fiber of my being and tears fill my eyes as my body aches to close the distance between us and wrap him up in a hug. When he glances up and looks right at me, our connection sparks through the air like electricity and I can’t stop myself any longer.

  It will hurt.

  It might even kill me but I won’t leave him standing out in the cold.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Travis

  Something has changed.

  I scoff as the thought runs through my mind because it seems like our whole lives have been turned upside down in the two days since the protestors first showed up but in this instance, I’m talking about Rowan and me. As I stare out at the protestors lining the street, I lean back in my chair and think over the past two days since they first showed up, trying to find the moment that it all changed but I can’t make any sense of it. She left my room that morning and we were good, better than ever and the way she smiled and pressed her lips to mine is burned into my memory but by the time people started gathering outside of the clubhouse, she was different. Her big ass sunglasses may have hidden her eyes from me but it didn’t matter because it was evident in the way she avoided looking at me and the way her body slumped like she was in pain. But, why? Even when she hugged me after Storm went off, I could feel this distance between us that was never there before and it hasn’t gotten any better since. Every single touch, every single kiss reveals the fracture in our relationship but I don’t know what to do to fix it.

  Sighing, I shake my head, unable to pull my eyes from the street where the protestors are still going strong as I
take a sip of my beer and my stomach turns. Yesterday, the size of the crowd doubled from the day before and the same thing happened today. It’s gotten so bad that Rodriguez sent officers over to make sure everyone remained civil… or as civil as you can be when an entire mob thinks you are monsters and wants to run you out of town. He also informed us that Sergeant Williams wouldn’t be giving up on her investigation anytime soon and it’s a safe bet that she’s got guys watching us right now. With everything going on, it’s not fucking ideal but, despite what the city of Baton Rouge thinks now, we’re not monsters and we haven’t done anything wrong.

  “Don’t you wish you could just march over there and yell at them that we’re innocent and being set up by a psycho?” Fuzz asks, leaning back in his chair with a sigh before taking a sip of his own beer. I nod.

  “Every fucking minute of every fucking day.”

  Storm sighs. “It probably doesn’t look great that we’re all sitting out here, drinking beer and watching them like we find this amusing or something.”

  Amusing is the last word I would use to describe this shit show. Our city has turned on us in an epic way and I honestly don’t know how we can come back from this, how we ever get back to business as usual.

  “What are we supposed to do?” I ask, resisting the urge to ball up my fist. The last thing we need is for any of us to look angry or aggressive out in the open, where the crowd can see us. It would only reinforce their beliefs if we showed the same rage they saw in the videos. “Are we supposed to hide inside until this is all over?”

  “I’m sure that is what Warren would like us to do,” Fuzz quips, his lip pulling back into a snarl for a brief second before he collects himself. “He wants us trapped and acting irrationally.”

  Blaze nods, his brows furrowed as he watches the people in the street scream at us and takes a sip of his own beer before sighing. “Makes all of us easier to slaughter.”

  “You all right, boss?” I ask, glancing over at him. He’s been unusually quiet since last night when he called all of the guys into the war room to go over a game plan. We didn’t come up with much of anything, though. Turning back to the crowd, I sigh. “Besides the obvious, I mean.”

  “Yeah… no… I don’t know. I’ve just had a lot on my mind.”

  Storm frowns. “Like what?”

  “My legacy,” he answers, a deep, haunting sadness creeping into his eyes as he turns to look at the clubhouse. “This place, the club… it was never meant to be the mess it became before we made the decision to turn things around and when I got shot eight years ago, I thought that was it. I thought my legacy was going to be a piece of shit that sold guns and drugs to selfishly make himself as much money as possible. And then, I got a second chance. I’ve worked so hard to turn things around since then…”

  “And you have, Blaze,” I tell him, my brows furrowed as I glance over at my brothers. They look as bewildered as I feel. Blaze shakes his head.

  “It won’t matter. After all the work we’ve done to turn things around and all the good we’ve done for the people of this community, this is what we’re going to be remembered for.”

  “You can’t think like that, boss.”

  Blaze sighs and shakes his head again. “We have to be realistic, boys. Even if the protestors go away, even if we manage to prove our innocence and Williams drops her case against us, the name Bayou Devils MC will always have people in this city whispering. There is no way back and, in that sense, Warren has succeeded in his mission to tear this club apart.”

  “No… Blaze…”

  “I don’t like it anymore than you do, Streak, but it is what it is. All we can do now is adapt, forge ahead, wade through the mud and hopefully, when we get to the other side, we’ll have enough pieces to rebuild.”

  “What are you really saying?” I ask him and he stares off into the crowd for a moment before shaking his head and dropping his gaze to the pavement in front of him as he takes a long pull of his beer before tossing the empty bottle in the trash can next to us.

  “I don’t know, Streak. I don’t have anymore answers than you do but I just can’t shake this feeling…”

  Storm frowns. “What feeling?”

  “Nothing,” he says as he stands up and sighs. “I’m just a sad old man and not good company tonight. I’ll see y’all tomorrow.”

  Without another word, he walks back toward the clubhouse and I turn back to Fuzz and Storm as they both shake their heads, their eyes haunted with Blaze’s comments. Not that I can blame them. It was heavy shit and it has me so concerned for the future of my club.

  “You know,” Storm whispers. “I think I’m gonna head to my room, too.”

  Fuzz nods. “Yeah, I need to go find my wife.”

  They both stand up and tell me good night before walking back to the clubhouse and I sigh, my chest aching as I sink further into my seat and take a sip of my beer as I stare at the protestors. The sun is starting to set and soon, they’ll start getting lanterns out and continue yelling into the night before finally crawling into their tents to get some sleep only to start all over again tomorrow. Now that the officers are here, we’ve been able to leave the clubhouse to run errands like grocery shopping which Tate, Blaze, and Emma did today so we’re set to withstand the onslaught for a while but I hope it ends soon. The people in the street, they unknowingly taunt me with my inability to catch Warren or even figure out who he really is and each moment I have to listen to their chants, the more I feel like I’m going crazy.

  I need Rowan.

  “What the fuck did you do to my sister?!”

  I turn as Kodiak charges out of the clubhouse with Tate right on his heels, desperately trying to grab him and stop him but he just brushes her off each time, his eyes blazing as he charges right for me. The ache in my chest is deeper when I think about the distance between us these past two days and the spark that has been missing from her eyes as I shake my head at him.

  “Uh… nothing.”

  His lip curls back. “Bullshit. You did something to her.”

  “Lincoln,” Tate urges, grabbing his arm as he stops in front of me and I peek a glance over at the crowd, which has grown suspiciously quiet.

  “This is not a good place to do this, brother.”

  “Don’t fucking call me that right now, you little fuck,” he snaps, balling his fists at his sides. “The only reason I’m not snapping every single one of your fingers right now is because I promised Rowan I wouldn’t unless I saw her crying because of you, which I haven’t, but she hasn’t been acting normal so whatever the fuck you did, fix it. And if you break her heart or hurt her in any way, so help me God, I will fucking end you. Are we clear?”

  My gaze flicks back to Tate and she chews on her bottom lip as she flashes me a wide-eyed look. I consider telling him that our relationship is casual before Storm’s comment about him dropping me off of the roof pops into my mind. Instead, I nod. “I got it.”

  “Good. I saw her going up to the roof ten minutes ago to read.”

  “You’re ordering me around now?” I ask, arching a brow and he takes a menacing step toward me. I hold my hands up in surrender before I set my bottle of beer down and stand up. “Fine. I’m fucking going.”

  “Not one goddamn tear, Streak,” he calls after me as I walk toward the clubhouse and I raise my hand to let him know I heard him. Emma and Quinn are lounging on the couch when I slip inside, watching their kids play around them and I nod to them before walking over to the stairs and taking them two at a time. I have no fucking clue what I’m going to say to Rowan or how I’m going to get her to open up and tell me what is bothering her but I know I have to. The distance between us is killing me and it has to be doing to same to her so I’ll do whatever it takes.

  Opening the door to the roof, I step outside and she glances over her shoulder at me from the air mattress that has been up here since the night I surprised her with star gazing. A range of emotions flicker through her eyes before her brows knit toget
her and pain swarms her gray depths. It only lasts a second, a fraction of one even, before she regains her composure and turns away from me. It doesn’t matter though because it was enough to confirm for me that this isn’t all in my head.

  But what the fuck is going on?

  “Hey,” I say, rubbing my sweating palms on the side of my jeans as I close the distance between us and sink onto the mattress next to her. “What are you doing?”

  She holds her book up. “Reading.”

  Fuck.

  Now what the hell do I say to her?

  I try to come up with something to say, something witty that will make her say more than a couple of words to me or hell, at this point, I would settle for something that will make her angry enough to start talking but my mind is completely blank. Peeking over at her, I watch her read her book and remember her doing the same thing in my bed as I worked. Each time she would feel me looking at her and glance up, offering me a smile before she turned back to the page in front of her but now, she won’t even give me even a sliver of attention.

  “You want to go back to my room and watch a movie?”

  She shakes her head. “Maybe later.”

  “Well,” I muse, nudging her with my shoulder. “Can I get a kiss?”

  Looking up, she turns to me and searches my eyes for a second before leaning forward and pressing her lips to mine but there is no feeling behind it. All of the fire and connection that was there two days ago is gone and when she turns back to her book, I rake my hands through my hair before turning to look out at the horizon.

  You know what?

  Fuck this.

  I’m not this fucking pathetic and I’m crazy about this girl so we’re going to hash everything out right now. As I glance over at her again, I decide to go with the angry option since she always reveals more than she means to when she’s all fired up, and swipe her book out of her hand. Her head snaps up and she levels a glare at me.