by Nikki Landis
Sims was a good looking guy, blonde and tall with broad shoulders, smart and charming when he wasn’t being an overbearing and protective ass – like right now – but we’ve had this conversation before. I wasn’t interested in dating or finding my next mistake with a guy. Been there, done that.
And it sucked.
My heart was still broken beyond repair.
Sims rose from the table and crossed to me. His tall, lanky frame clothed in a pair of dark slacks and a sports jacket as he pulled me up and into his embrace, “I know you’re still hurting and heartbroken so I won’t push it and talk about what’s between us again tonight but . . . Rae, honey, sooner or later you’re going to have to let go and move on. It’s been five years,” he added, “and besides, it’s your birthday.”
I looked up at his face in surprise. He remembered. No one else had today.
“Happy birthday Rae,” he whispered, leaning down and kissing me softly on the lips. “I’ve got a little something for you.”
A small package was placed in my hands before he turned toward the door, scooping up his coat and slipping his feet into his dress shoes. With a wink and a small smile, he ticked his head in the direction of my front window, “I’ll be in the patrol car all night, just in case. If you need me you know my number. Call.”
I nodded. This wasn’t the first time he sat outside and watched over my apartment or issued the proposition for me to invite him in. Sometimes I wondered if I was a fool for turning down a perfectly great guy who cared about me, but I didn’t possess a heart to be given away anymore. I’d already handed it over to Peter Harding, long ago.
And alive or dead, happy or miserable, I could never ask for it back.
“Thank you Detective Sims,” I answered softly as our eyes met. Yeah, just this once, I could be nice.
He took a step in my direction and then paused, raking his hand through his hair, “Just Paul is fine.”
“Thank you, Paul.”
His regard was intense and I knew he fought the urge to come closer and kiss me again.
That’s why I had to usher him out the door.
We’ve done this song and dance a few times, and it’s not fair to either of us.
Once he was gone I locked the deadbolt and walked to my front window. As I expected, he was waiting for me. I’ve come a long way from that frightened and lonely girl who witnessed so much death and carnage five years ago, but some habits die hard. I waved at Paul and closed the curtains, the same as I had every time I saw him over the last five years.
Curling up on the couch with a thin blanket my mind wandered back to the night I last saw Peter. It was when my mother and sister were killed, and the Outlaws tried to murder me too. At least that son of a bitch Charles died that night and couldn’t terrorize anyone else. Only a couple of the other Outlaws were killed. A handful were arrested, but most of them were already out of prison and mingling in society.
Devlin was one of them. The day he was released I spent the whole afternoon in my apartment, scared and upset, and even Paul wasn’t able to calm me down for long. That was six months ago. I fully expected his sorry ass to end up back in the clink but nothing so far. Devlin was a dangerous asshole. Someday he would try to find where I was living. I didn’t think for one minute he’d let the past go or drop his vendetta against Pete, the RRMC, or me.
Those thoughts led me right back to the love of my life.
All I could think of were those last few minutes with Peter and climbing into that black sedan, my entire life changing in an instant, and not for the better. How in the hell was witness protection supposed to help? I was the victim, and yet the bastards who killed my family roamed free in the streets as I hid away from society.
How the fuck was that fair?
Tears fell down my cheeks and I didn’t bother wiping them away. I lost so much. I’ve had to live without everyone I loved for the last five years and it sucked. Why didn’t I get a choice in my future? Why couldn’t I have stayed in touch with Hayley?
With Peter?
Why didn’t he come for me or try to find me?
He promised.
But he never showed up, not once.
I haven’t seen or heard from him except for that night a year ago. Kat begged me and several other girls from work to celebrate her recent break-up. She was newly single and looking to hook up. Whatever. She was crazy.
I hadn’t been working at the bar as a waitress for long, maybe six months. When Kat suggested a girl’s night out and a few drinks, I jumped at the chance to experience a normal night of fun like other college students my age.
I didn’t know where we were going and didn’t pay attention until I saw the bright neon sign for Crazy Eights and the Harley’s lined up in front of the bar.
Panic filled my chest and I tried to suggest somewhere else but everyone was happy to stop there first. As we entered the familiar hub of excitement filled my veins along with the smell of licorice and fried food, the haze of cigarette smoke, and the consistent thrum of heavy guitars coming from the jukebox.
The place was packed without any open pool tables, so we decided to head toward the bar. That’s when I noticed the fight breaking out and the distinctive emblems of both the RRMC and Satan’s Outlaws MC on their leather jackets. The brawl quickly turned dangerous.
Everything happened so fast.
My eyes met Peter’s and widened in shock moments before I recognized Bryce. He ran for me but never made it close enough before Pete tackled him to the ground. I screamed when another SOMC member grabbed me and held a knife to my neck, threatening to kill me in front of Pete.
I froze, memories of four years ago and losing my family assaulting my senses.
The terror never fully left me.
I blinked, and in that instant Peter changed. A feral snarl ripped from his lips as he ran through the fighting bodies and managed to reach us in record time. I screamed, terrified, as I watched Peter yank the biker from me and throw him to the ground, beating the hell out of the guy, blood gushing from his nose and mouth. Pete didn’t stop even when the man was unconscious.
R.J. and Jake pulled him off the Outlaws member as Peter’s growl launched from his throat. He stepped toward me when the front doors of the bar burst wide open and police flooded the area. All of the MC members were arrested along with half the bar. It was total chaos.
I lost Peter until he was being shoved into a patrol car.
Flashing red and blue lights stood out in the misty cool night as a steady drizzling rain fell from the angry sky. One of the officers gave me a blanket and tried to convince me to see a doctor and leave in one of the ambulances. I refused.
As our eyes met, Pete whispered my name and I looked away, scared and overwhelmed with the disastrous night. I wished I had never set foot back in Providence.
When I finally was able to look back, the patrol car was gone.
Sighing, I asked Kat to take me home. Everyone was quiet as we drove back to Juniper Hills.
She’s never asked me to go out since. Fine by me.
Sipping my tea, I closed my eyes and sighed. I never told Paul I was there that night.
He never mentioned it, but I saw the tightness of his jaw and the anger in his eyes the next morning when we met for our weekly Sunday follow up. We argued over something small and insignificant that day but what I remember was his declaration of feelings and the gentle kiss he placed on my forehead, promising he would keep me safe.
Since then it’s been different with him and I never quite know where I stand.
Sort of with everything else in my life.
I felt abandoned and alone, lonely and heartbroken, sad and anxious, even in a crowded room. No matter what I did or who I was with, that feeling never went away. Not in five long, painful years.
I don’t think it ever will.
Chapter 32
The cell doors to my personal hell opened for the last time as I stepped past the cool gray metal bars. I walked the
halls with a guard, a smug smile on my face as I passed all the unlucky motherfuckers still doing time. I lost a year of my life in this shithole, bored and fucking ready to lose my goddamn mind. Stupid fucking bar fight. Goddamn Outlaws.
I had plenty of anger and little remorse for that night.
The only part I regretted was the moment I didn’t whisper the three words that were buried in my heart to Rae. That moment when our eyes met in the drizzling rain, the flashing blue and red lights illuminating her fair skin, was the second I knew she was mine forever and I didn’t say it.
I didn’t tell her. I fucking should have yelled what my heart wanted her to hear.
I love you.
Fuck. My hand rose to my chest instinctively to stop the raw throbbing ache.
She was mine. Always. Forever. Time didn’t change shit.
I was almost free of this place, and there wasn’t time to dwell on my loss. I needed to focus.
Once I signed out, and my belongings were returned, I headed out the door with a sarcastic salute, happy to piss off the big guy with the crew cut just one last time. Big fucker had caused me a lot of difficulty in here but now I was out and he could kiss my ass.
Later asshole.
R.J. was parked in the lot facing the door, leaning against the hood of my Nova with a big stupid smile on his face. Man, I missed him. We hugged for a moment in that sort of awkward one-armed bro embrace and then I leaned back, eyeing him up and deciding he seemed better than the last time we were this close. He’d been in the infirmary right before he was released. Got shanked by some racist fucktard. I took care of it, having quite a few connections inside.
Helps when your dad is Mack ‘the Knife’ Harding.
No, he didn’t do shit to help me on the inside, but his reputation was enough to put off most of the trouble and help me gain alliances I needed to survive. You never know when you’re gonna need a favor.
“How’s it going, bro? You don’t look so pale anymore.”
He shrugged, cutting his glance sideways as I slid into the driver’s seat. It had been way too long since I drove my baby. Since I’d ridden in either of my favorite girls.
Fuck. My dick was getting hard just thinking of Rae.
“So, heard anything from or about Rae?” he knew I was going to ask. For the last year I’d been trying to find her, but there’s only so much you can do from the inside. I really was a stupid fucker, hoping she’d learn about my incarceration and come to visit me.
She never showed up, not that I blamed her. I wouldn’t want to come here either.
Hope is an unrealistic thing. It sinks its teeth in like some ravenous beast and doesn’t release you, just leaves a scar from the bite once you’re wise enough to see its folly.
Trust me, I had a lot of fucking scars.
“Nothing, but I don’t think she’s far. I’ll keep digging.”
“I was kind of hoping she might come see me. Maybe she saw the news or something,” I admitted.
“Well Edge, we both know that’s too dangerous, and I’m sure she does too.”
I nodded. Sore subject for us both.
“How’s it been at home?”
“The same,” he answered quickly, which didn’t surprise me.
“You good? Need anything?”
“Nah bro, I stay at the clubhouse most of the time.”
Funny, when we were kids we avoided the subject of R.J.’s home life like the fucking plague. Never talked about his drunk ass hoe of a mom or the deadbeat dad who rarely showed up except to shove him around and demand money. We both sort of had shitty fathers, but his was worse.
Now we talked about it from time to time, and I think it was good for him to let some of his anger and hate release. R.J. was just as crazy and messed up as the rest of us, but he was quiet and internalized shit, it made me worry about him. His childhood had been rougher than most, and since middle school, we’ve been tight.
Patching the club together made us more than best friends.
We were blood brothers.
I parked the Nova next to my Harley and noticed R.J. must have cleaned it up for me while my other brothers kept her running in good condition. He’d only got out two months prior to my release so his hog must have needed TLC too. Parked next to mine, the sleek black and silver paint glistened under the sunlight. I thanked him as we approached the back entrance to the clubhouse, dreading the next few minutes.
Welcome Home Edge.
The wide banner was strung up crookedly above the entrance as if I was happy to set foot back in this hellhole and Rafe’s controlling bullshit. A party was in full swing, not bothering to wait for me, not that I cared. I wouldn’t be fucking any of the girls here, so it didn’t matter. The only thing I wanted was alcohol and plenty of it.
There’s not much to be had in prison.
Sobriety had been forced upon me but not for long.
These parties were all the same – girls, booze, and drugs. I spent a good amount of time at the central bar, pushing so much pussy off my lap people were going to think I was gay, and drowning my regrets and sorrows in alcohol with R.J., Ghost, GQ, Jake, and Valan. Although Jake’s arm was around Hay the entire time, his eyes darted around the room at all the free tits and ass on display.
A guy could look and appreciate, right?
“How was the clink?” Ghost teased, tossing back another shot. Lucky fucker only spent six months inside with me. For some reason I served the longest time. Might have had something to do with my bad attitude.
“Fuck you,” I countered, chasing my beer with a shot of Jaeger. A familiar buzz was starting to cloud my brain but not enough to make me slow down. I was just beginning to enjoy myself.
He laughed and slapped me on the back, gesturing for more from the cute little bartender. She actually reminded me of Rae quite a bit. Same long dark hair and pretty brown eyes, but she didn’t have Rae’s glow or her innocence, and she wasn’t the woman I was desperately in love with. Had I been a guy with less morality I could have taken her up on her numerous offers, but I wasn’t cheating on my girl.
After leaving Rafe and the blonde sucking him off on the couch when I first arrived, I had to get out of dodge before I punched his smug face. My hatred and loathing hadn’t diminished while behind bars. In fact, it might be stronger. I wore my leathers like a proud RRMC member because I was and loved my brothers but I couldn’t stand our Pres.
Fucking asshole.
He’d get what was coming to him.
I’d make sure of that . . . and soon.
Rafe had about ten years on me and R.J. He was a new patch when we were kids. In fact, he shadowed Ron and Mack quite a bit. More than once Rafe spoke of his admiration for both men. Over the years I’ve become suspicious of the part he played in Ron’s death and Mack’s exile. Now that I was free, I was going to take care of business.
The night of the bar fight, and my subsequent incarceration, I’d found out from Akando there was much more to the story and my father’s past. It was time I sought answers and Mack was the first person I wanted to see.
I’d had a lot of time to think staring at those cold gray bars. And some things just weren’t adding up. More than that, I owed retribution to the Outlaws, starting with Striker. Bryce would be my next stop. We had a lot to discuss but I knew he’d meet me, even if we hated each other.
I owed him one for putting that hickey on Rae.
Fuck.
Everything always comes back to her. I could think of dog shit or the weather or even eating steak, no matter how random, and I’d still end up thinking or saying her name. I don’t know what it is about her, but she’s my Kryptonite. I’m weak as shit whenever she’s near, and it’s always been that way. Rae’s buried under my skin, down deep, entrenched and unwilling to move. She was part of me, an extension of my heart and soul, and without her, it was hard to breathe. It was like my lungs couldn’t function unless she was near.
Shit. Now I just wanted to take my drunk as
s to bed and sulk.
I slipped from the barstool pleased that I could walk without the room spinning. Guess that high tolerance wasn’t affected by my life behind bars all that much. A snicker passed my lips and I turned to leave, telling everyone I would see them later.
I would have been fine if not for Hayley.
“So Pete,” she slurred, placing her hand on my arm, “you heard from Rae?”
And there. Right there was the second I sobered up, faster than a whore could suck off a flaccid dick, and I was pissed.
“What?” I thundered, ripping my arm away. Did she know something I didn’t? Like where the hell my girl was staying?
Hay blinked, quickly realizing her mistake as Jake pulled her close and whispered low in her ear. She looked up at me, tears filling her bloodshot eyes, that small voice I knew so well quivering, “I’m sorry Pete. I thought if anyone could find her, it’s you. I miss Rae so much.”
Fucking hell. Now I had to do damage control.
Jake was staring me down, expecting me to handle this shit without losing my temper. I took a deep breath and exhaled, rolling my shoulders before I replied, “No, I haven’t, but I plan to soon.”
“I’m sorry,” she was hugging me before I could stop her.
“It’s alright Hay. We’re good,” I assured her.
Jake led her off to their room and we shared a look, one that promised he had my six on this.
R.J. was still throwing back shots with Ghost and Valan. GQ was watching me, as he often did, taking shit in. We patched the same year in the RRMC so although we hadn’t known each other but four and a half years we were close. GQ knew my heartache with Rae, and often he was the only one I could sit and talk with. Even R.J. was too close. Sometimes looking at my best friend reminded me of everything I’d lost.
It sucked and I didn’t mean to do that, but I was fucking stupid sometimes and missing Rae was an all-consuming loss that gutted me nearly every day.
I smiled at GQ and shook my head, indicating I was good. Not tonight. I had a specific reason for wanting to be alone. The sooner, the better, before midnight.
