by K. Ryan
"Do you know what tomorrow is?"
He lifted his face away from my hair and leaned away as he cleared his throat. Tomorrow marked the eighth anniversary of the worst day of both our lives. There was no forgetting that kind of tragedy no matter how much alcohol, counseling, and prescription medication I consumed—not necessarily in that order.
"Yeah," he nodded numbly. "I do."
"I hate tomorrow already."
He laughed mirthlessly and then swung an arm around me to tuck my body under his shoulders. "Yeah, I know what you mean. God, I can't believe it's here again. I think I spend the whole year alternating between dreading it and trying not to think about it."
I breathed him in, filling my senses with musk and gasoline. One of his hands was in my hair now while the other clung to me for dear life and for a fleeting moment, I never wanted him to let go. It was like no time had passed, like nothing had torn us apart, and all that was left was this electrically-charged connection we both knew still existed between us.
Getting caught up in his arms like this was dangerous, but I had to take these few moments. It just felt too good.
His hands were closing around my face now so he could brush a few stray tears away with his thumbs. My eyes collided with his and his face was so dangerously close. My eyes squeezed shut again as his thumb moved across my cheek. When I pulled my gaze back up to him, my breath caught in my throat at the tender, warm expression in his eyes and everything else just stopped. He leaned forward, his calloused hands still pressed around my cheeks, and then paused, as if he was waiting for some sort of sign to go further.
My chin tilted up ever so slightly to give him better access and then my hand inched up the length of his button-down shirt. As his head dipped even lower, our noses brushed against each other. Caleb leaned back for a split second, as if to silently ask permission, and after finding whatever he was looking for, his lips grazed across my cheek. Just as his lips began a light trail to my lips, the front door burst open, startling me right out of his arms.
Saul stood before us and a brief look of apology flashed across his face when he took in our current position on the floor. He held a hand up in the air and I was faintly aware that Caleb growled in his direction.
"Sorry, boss," Saul fired off. "I didn't mean to interrupt, but Theo Wallace and two of his boys are out front. They want to talk to you."
All the air sucked right out of the room as Caleb leapt to his feet, pulling me with him, and his hand fell to the small of my back to urge me forward.
"You remember what we talked about?" Caleb asked his employee pointedly and Saul nodded without hesitation.
Everything seemed to rush in a blur around me as Caleb hurried me out into the garage, all the way looking over his shoulder and then he all but shoved me at Saul before disappearing into the room next to the bathroom. My eyes followed him and then they nearly fell out of my head when Caleb opened the bottom drawer in a desk and pulled out two handguns. I froze as he tucked one behind the waistband of his jeans and then handed the other gun to Saul, who followed suit.
"She doesn't leave your sight until you get the okay from me," Caleb instructed him in a cool, lethally calm voice.
"Got it," Saul nodded, already pushing me toward the garage's back door with a hand on my back.
I glanced frantically over my shoulder, even though I knew I had to keep walking forward, and Caleb threw me one more look before nodding and turning on his heel to stalk out of the garage.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Lighting Fires
Caleb
Theo Wallace, with two Warlord officers, was waiting in the parking lot just like Saul said he was. I'd known this day would come, I'd just never imagined it would also be the day Isabelle randomly decided to show up at my shop with lunch and a whole shitload of issues.
When it rained, it poured. Or something like that.
But with Isabelle safe in Saul's care for the time being, I had bigger issues to worry about right now.
Wallace nodded to me as I approached and my fingers itched to touch the Glock tucked into my jeans just to remind myself it was there.
"Sawyer," he called out when we were standing just a few feet away from each other.
"Wallace," I nodded back tightly.
At this point, Saul should've gotten Isabelle off the property already, so as far as I knew, she was safe and Wallace would never know she was here. That didn't mean I wanted Theo Wallace on my property any longer than necessary.
"Long time no see," he flashed me a grin, but this was more about baring his teeth than anything. There was menace in that grin, a hardness that wasn't there the last time I saw him, and now, I knew it was all directed right at me.
"Yeah," I rocked back on my heels and shoved my hands deep inside my pockets. "How 'bout that?"
He gestured with his head to my shop and I turned just in time to see Saul's truck heading down the street in the opposite direction, away from view and getting Isabelle one step closer to safety.
"Looks like you got yourself set up here real nice," Wallace pointed right at my shop as he spoke. "I guess good things can happen to those who abandon their families and throw their legacy in the shitter, huh?"
My lips curled up into a defiant snarl—Theo Wallace didn't know shit about me. He thought he did, but all he knew was what he'd heard. It wasn't any different than what I knew about him, but I also wasn't sitting here, insinuating about his life either. If our roles were reversed and I was standing in his shoes, with a dead kid and an MIA old lady, I probably would be doing exactly what he was: lighting fires and burning bridges. Come to think of it, he and I were never all that different, save for a few details.
"This obviously isn't a social call," I shot back, my eyes hardened and ready for a fight if that's what he wanted. "And from the looks of it, your bike doesn't need any work done, so what can I help you with?"
That toothy, menacing grin just got wider and Wallace's eyebrows lifted into his forehead at my directness. "Alright. Fair enough. I just wanted to stop by and talk some business with you."
I cocked an eyebrow at him. "What kinda business?"
Wallace gestured with his head again toward my shop. "Your little establishment there. I want in."
A deep belly laugh erupted from my throat and I shook my head. "You're not serious, right?"
His grey eyes glinted with hostility and he took a step forward. "Like the plague, Sawyer. It's no secret you're lookin' to expand your business. You need some cash to help you back that up and I can provide it for you."
And be his bitch forever? Fuck that.
"I'm gonna have to pass," I shot back just as quickly.
"Just like that? You don't even wanna hear me out?"
"Nope," I shook my head. "I don't."
Wallace whistled lowly and glanced at his companions, who I recognized as Rubin Lloyd, his VP, and Antone Jeffreys, his Sergeant-At-Arms.
"Come on, Sawyer, everyone knows you opened up a bike shop instead of a car shop just so you wouldn't step on the Horsemen's toes. Lettin' me throw some cash your way still wouldn't matter in the grand scheme of things."
Yeah, I thought grimly, but it would matter to me.
I didn't want money from anyone, not the club, not Isabelle, and certainly not Theo Wallace. I'd gotten this far on my own. Armed with a helluva good business plan and good old fashioned persistence, I'd gotten all the start-up cash I needed through loans from banks and that was exactly how I planned on expanding. Besides, the last time I'd made a decision solely based on money, it hadn't ended so well for me.
Theo Wallace had no business stepping foot on my property, let alone staking any sort of claim on it. All he wanted to do was use my shop as a pawn in his game. If I let him put anything in it, he'd grind me into the ground, holding his money over my head every chance he got and in doing so, would rub salt in a festering, open wound between me and the Horsemen.
Sawyer Custom Builds was mine. I'd rather l
et Wallace just put a bullet in me now before I ever let him have a piece of it.
"I appreciate the offer," I drawled and dug into my back pocket for my cigarettes. I shook my head as I lit one up and took a deep pull from the burning cherry. "But I'm pretty sure I can handle it on my own."
The steel clouding Wallace's eyes told me what I already knew: this was about vendettas and past mistakes and all the things neither of us could change. He was out for payback, I was trying to move on and so, I threw my cards on the table to see where they landed.
"Let's be honest, this isn't really about you wanting to get into a legit business. This is about me, you, Dom, the club, and what happened that day in Pittsburgh."
Animosity flickered across Wallace's face for just a moment, but it was long enough to let me know I'd hit my target. He took an aggressive step right for me, but I held my ground. This was my property, my staff was watching, and I wasn't moving.
"What are you doing, man?" I tried again. "You already cut-off the club's contacts in the North and you've already derailed anything new they got going in the South. They're bleeding, just like you wanted them to. Isn't that enough?"
Someone had to be the voice of reason here. Someone had to try to talk this out because all this eye for an eye bullshit wasn't helping anyone.
"What am I doing?" Wallace sneered and strode up to me until we were practically nose to nose. "I'm getting justice. That's what I'm doing. Your fucking club is a cancer and it needs to be wiped out. Every single last one of those assholes needs a bullet in the head and you don't get a free pass just because you think you got out. They might have let you break loose, but you're an idiot if you think anyone will ever forget who you are."
All he did was voice my nightmares out loud: the things that ravaged my dreams, had me always looking over my shoulder and keeping guns in my desk.
"Why'd you even bother?" he went on with a snarl. "You stayed in this bumfuck town, right under your club's nose...for what? It wasn't to get out, that's for damn sure."
I bristled at that. As far as I was concerned, I didn't owe this asshole anything, certainly not an explanation. And the reason I'd chosen to stay here in this town had nothing to do with the club—hell, it would've been so much easier if I'd just left. But I didn't and I also didn't regret it for a second, not now anyway.
"Maybe you're right," I allowed easily. "But it's also none of your damned business."
Wallace just held up a hand and I wordlessly spiked my cigarette into the concrete at my feet.
"Alright, Sawyer. Alright. I obviously hit a nerve and that's fine. So let's just cut the bullshit. You play nice, give me what I want, and I'll call us even. If you don't, I can't make you any promises."
"Promises about what?" I lifted an eyebrow in challenge.
He just shrugged. "You know exactly what I mean."
Yeah, I did. If shit got bad with the Horsemen, I'd get lumped in with the rest of them. It didn't matter that I'd gotten myself out six years ago. It was just like Wallace said: as long as I still lived here in Claremont, I wasn't really out, at least not the way I wanted to be.
"Look, man, you've gotta let this go—"
I didn't get a chance to finish because Wallace lunged forward, all pretense and niceties long gone, and he shoved me in the chest.
"Let this go?" he barked back at me and shoved me one more time just for good measure. "Like hell I'm gonna just let this go. You and your club are the reason my family's gone!'
Even as I stumbled back, what I wanted to say was: you are the reason you lost your family. It wasn't me, it wasn't the club, and it wasn't our shared arrest that day in Pittsburgh. It was him. All his legacy, which wasn't that different from mine, and all his shitty choices, each one taking him further and further away from his family. That was why he'd lost his family. And I knew this because those were the exact same reasons I'd lost mine.
I didn't bother saying any of that to him. He wouldn't listen, just like Dom, Marcus, my mom, and all the rest of them.
Sooner or later, that life catches up to you and the people you love, the people who make life worth living, those are the people who get caught in the crossfire. But what did I know? To them, I was a traitor to my name, my blood, and my brothers. My sin and my betrayal was all I had—I'd gladly take that same sin again if it meant a peaceful, bullet-less life. Unfortunately, it looked like all those sacrifices meant nothing as long as I was still living here.
I spread my hands out in front of me, my expression just as sincere as my intentions. "I'm sorry. I really am. You don't know how many times I've wished I could go back to that moment and do everything differently. But I can't and neither can you."
Wallace glared at me, then he lunged forward again to jab his index finger in my chest. "Fuck you, Sawyer. That means shit to me. You knew the ATF was watching your asses and you said nothing. You had no business driving up there and putting us all at risk."
How many times would I have to pay for the same mistake?
"You're right," I lifted a shoulder. "I shouldn't have done it. And just so we're clear, you're not the only one who lost something that day."
Something that looked a lot like understanding with a little bit of regret in there, too, flashed across Wallace's face. Then it was gone just as quickly.
"You know," he rocked back on his heels and ran a hand over his face. "When I first heard what happened to you and your girl, I felt real bad for both of you. I figured, maybe I had to be in prison, but at least I still had my kids, my wife and then my kid went to the hospital and didn't come back. I didn't feel so bad for you after that."
If he was going there, then I was going there too.
"I had to watch her give birth to a baby who wasn't gonna take a breath," I growled. "Did you know that?"
His movements stilled and he shook his head almost imperceptibly.
"Don't stand there and preach your bullshit about what you lost," I pushed on, my chest heaving and my fingers twitching for that gun behind my back. "Because you don't know shit about my loss or my family."
And suddenly I was back in that hospital with my arms around Isabelle, holding her as she gave birth to our baby in one long, anguished push, and I wanted to grab my gun and pull the damn trigger. Instead of mourning the loss, taking stock of his responsibility in it, and making the changes to make sure it never happened again, Wallace was raging a war he wouldn't win, at least not without more loss and more tragedy.
"Yeah, well," Wallace bit out. "At least you got to be there. I didn't. You and your club—you stole that from me."
"This isn't gonna end well," I told him hoarsely. "You know that, right? It doesn't matter which side comes out on top because everyone'll still lose. Cut your losses, take the victories you've already gotten and just go back to Pittsburgh."
Wallace regarded me with hard, unfeeling grey eyes. I knew what he was going to say before his lips even parted.
"Wise words," he smirked at me. "You would've made a helluva president, you know."
"Doesn't matter now."
"You're right," Wallace nodded tightly. "It doesn't. So consider this your only and final chance, Sawyer. I'm not gonna show up here lookin' to play nice again."
"Heard you loud and clear," I lifted a shoulder as I lifted another cigarette to my lips. "I just can't make any deals with you."
"Figured as much."
By this point, he'd started toward his bike before rearing back with that menacing grin sliding across his face. "Hey, I think I saw your girl a couple weeks ago."
My body stilled and my cigarette dangled from my lips for a few perilous moments before my mind finally caught up to the rest of my body. The less he knew the better, especially the fact that Isabelle and I had seen each other since she'd been back.
I just shrugged and took a long pull from my cigarette. "I don't have a girl."
Wallace's eyes flashed and he rocked back on his heels with that grin still on his face. "Maybe not right now, but she
was your old lady at one point, wasn't she?"
"I've had a couple of old ladies," I shot back easily and hoped my nonchalance was actually believable. "You gotta be a little more specific."
"Blonde hair, tight little body, pretty blue eyes," he tossed over his shoulder as he threw a leg over his bike. "Yeah, that was your girl alright."
"Maybe it was. I heard she was coming back to town."
"I think I might've scared her."
I gave away nothing and brought my cigarette up to my lips one more time.
Wallace just winked at me as he started up his bike and revved the engine. "Wouldn't want that to happen again, now would we?"
With that, he left me standing in the middle of my parking lot, hoping to high hell I hadn't just poked an angry bear and shoved Isabelle right in front of it.
. . .
Isabelle
I tried to focus on the road. I really did, but it was kind of hard to focus on anything but the handgun resting a little too comfortably in the center console between me and Saul. My eyes fell to the driver's seat, where Saul was whistling along to the radio and that did nothing to calm my nerves. I didn't even know where to start: the fact that club business was still a very real presence in Caleb's life or the fact that his first instinct, before anything else, was to get me somewhere safe.
"Don't worry about a thing," Saul told me, his eyes still focused steadily on the road. "This is just a precaution. Nothing's gonna happen to you, at least not on his watch."
My hands still shook in spite of his reassurance because at the end of the day, I didn't think anyone but Caleb would really be able to make me feel like I really was safe. Cooper seemed to sense my agitation and rested his head on the center console from the backseat, his big brown eyes shifting up to me and pleading for me to just touch him already.
When I gave the poor thing what he wanted, his thick tongue shot out to lick me right across the face, giving me the next best thing I needed right now.
"Thanks, buddy," I whispered and kissed the top of his massive head.
