by Carina Adams
Pig farmers. They couldn’t be trusted.
We went straight to the clubhouse. First thing I’d learned from Slash—always keep three extra sets of clothes, including boots, at the clubhouse. That was advice I was never going to take lightly again. Not after all the shit I was in.
The boys had an early morning bonfire, while I climbed into my truck and drove home. I needed to tell her that she was safe, that I’d taken care of it. I wanted to wake her up and hold her.
She wasn’t in bed, though. She wasn’t even in the apartment. Knowing there was only one other place she could be, I walked to Droplogic. The door was locked, thankfully, so I used the security code that had been assigned to me on the back door and let myself in.
For a few minutes, I watched her beat the shit out of the bag, sweat soaking her tank and matting her hair. The girl I’d thrown over my shoulder almost six months before was long gone. So was the doe-eyed, skin and bones woman who’d beat a murder charge.
This woman was someone else entirely. Anyone who looked at her arms saw sexy-as-fuck guns and knew she was strong. Anyone who watched her spend hour after hour sparring with her trainer could see she was dedicated.
I could see the changes she’d made inside, too. The heart of gold that let her love a child who wasn’t hers had gotten bigger, allowing her to love the stupid prick of a man I’d become. She might never have been able to stand up for herself before, but now she had a backbone of pure steel. She’d fight against anyone she thought was in the wrong. It was the self-confidence that now oozed from her pores, the one that told the world she finally loved herself and thought that she was worthy, that made me know she’d be able to make it through anything.
I waited until she’d shut off the music before I walked into the room and called her name. She spun so fast, her arms raised, that if I’d been close enough, she would have landed a good blow. She smiled as soon as she realized it was me, dropped her arms, and walked to her towel. After a quick wipe of her face, she opened her water bottle.
“Good morning.” Her shoulders rose and fell as she struggled to catch her breath. “You doing an early morning session?”
I shook my head. “I’m here to see you.”
She held up a hand. “I understand why you didn’t come home last night.” She shrugged. “I wish you’d changed your mind, but I understand. I’m sorry for overreacting.”
I’d expected to grovel. Whatever had changed her mind worked for me.
“Will you let me take you to breakfast? So we can talk?”
She smiled. “Yeah. Let me go change.”
Ten minutes later, we were sitting across from each other at the diner down the block. The fact that it was so close and that they made a decent cup of Joe, meant we went there a lot. We ordered our usual and the waitress hurried away without even writing it down.
“I had an epiphany last night.”
“Yeah? About me?”
She shook her head. “Dale.”
I tensed.
“I’ve decided that he can’t hurt me anymore. I’ve let him have way too much power over me. For years. I’m done. As of today, it’s over.”
I put my cup down. “Good. Because you never have to worry about him again.”
She dumped more sugar into her coffee and stirred. “I know. That’s what I’m saying. I figured it out. With Matty’s help, I realized he no longer has a hold on me.”
“Cris.” I waited until she met my eyes. “I’m saying you never have to worry about him again. He’s gone.”
Her spoon clattered to the table as my words sunk in.
She swallowed, shook her head, then frowned. “Rob, where were you last night?”
I ran my tongue along the front of my teeth. “Maine.”
She inhaled sharply and shook her head again. “No.”
I reached for her hand, folding my fingers around hers. “No one saw me,” I assured her, my voice low. “No one knows. I just want you to know, it’s done.”
She yanked her fingers away. “You had no right,” she hissed. She slid from the booth and rushed toward the door.
I threw a twenty on the table and hurried after her.
I caught her just inside the front door of Droplogic. It was unlocked, which meant Nick was there. I didn’t want to have this conversation in front of anyone, whether he was a prospect or not, but I couldn’t avoid it.
“I have every right.” I grabbed her arm and spun her toward me. “He hurt you.”
She shoved me back. “Me!” she screamed. “He hurt me.” She poked her thumb into her chest.
“And you belong to me. Which means he hurt me!”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” she raged. “This isn’t some pathetic club bullshit where one of your brother’s hit on your old lady or someone pissed on your tire. This is my life.”
“This is my life, too! You’re my world.”
“Am I? Is that why you keep secrets?”
I bared my teeth. “Two different issues.”
She shook her head. “They aren’t. You think I’m your property, that I belong to you yet you don’t belong to me. You expect me to tell you everything, but you don’t tell me even the most important things.”
“I’m telling you this.”
“After you did it. Not before. You make decisions and expect me to be okay with them. That isn’t how a relationship works.”
“You never make decisions without my input?” I challenged.
She paled. “That was different, and you know it!”
“Yeah,” I scoffed. “You were looking at thirty-five to life. Say whatever the fuck you want, but you know I did it to save you.”
“I don’t want you to save me. I want you to stand by my side as I save myself.”
Fuck.
I’d taken her kill. She’d needed to be the one to decide. Not me. Not her brother. She’d been the one who should have made the call.
“Fuck, Angel, I—,”
She held up a hand. “No.” She glanced around the room. “Rob, I have to go to work. We’ll talk later.” She didn’t meet my eyes and walked away before I could stop her.
My cellphone was ringing before I made it back to the truck. I was tempted to wing the fucking thing across the lot, but knowing it was probably Matt with a problem on the jobsite, I answered it without checking the number.
“What?” I barked.
“I need you to come in as soon as possible.” McCue’s tone was full of agitation.
Of course. When it fucking rained, it poured. I leaned my head back and stared at the clouds. “I’ll be right down.”
“Felony assault.” McCue explained from behind his desk.
I let the information digest. “How long?”
“Three years. Less with good behavior.”
Fuck.
When I didn’t say anything, he continued, “This is the best we’re going to get.”
I believed him. I’d known what I was doing when I told him I was going to testify at Cris’s trial. The cops couldn’t figure out who’d really shot Hansen, and if they tried to charge me, we’d fight it. But they had the blood on my fucking boot, so they could tie me to the scene.
“I’ll take it.”
“I’ll set it up and call you when I find out when you have to turn yourself in.”
Instead of going to the jobsite, I called Matty to tell him the news and call a meeting. My brothers needed to hear it from me. Three years was a long fucking time in our world, and I needed to make sure they knew the club was going to be in good hands.
Then I needed to tell Cris.
36
Cris
“You want to do what?” Nick asked, looking at me like I was insane.
“I’m an asshole,” I explained. “Rob did something for me, and even though it was unexpected and I’m still pissed, I overreacted.”
The jackass snorted. “You? Overreact? Never.”
“Shut up.” I smacked his arm. “Are you going to help me or
not?”
“Of course, I am.” He looked down. “Let me change and we’ll go.”
A few hours later, Nick circled the bike, looking at everything I’d never thought to check. He hadn’t complained once on the ride to Derry. Or when I’d given him the wrong directions. Instead, he’d given me a pep talk, assuring me that if it was a good deal and I had to drive his SUV home, that I’d be fine.
When we found the right place, he let out a low whistle. “That’s a nice-looking bike,” he muttered before he went to work, checking it out to make sure the owner wasn’t conning me.
It wasn’t a Harley. I couldn’t swing the cost of one yet. And I’d never be able to replace his bike, with all the custom additions it had. I loved everything about the Yamaha V-Star Classic, and I hoped that Rob would, too.
At least he’d be riding again. We’d be riding again. It was worth every single dime from my savings.
Nick got on, fired it up, and took it for a ride while I made small talk with the owner. When he pulled back into the drive, he was grinning. “She’s beautiful.”
I paid and almost asked if we could leave it there so I didn’t have to drive. Nick, realizing what I was doing, jumped back on the bike. I climbed into the car with shaky hands, and followed him closely, driving in the breakdown lane, as he headed straight to the clubhouse.
He parked it in Rob’s spot and jumped off, coming to me immediately. He pulled me into a hug, laughing. “I told you, you could do it!” With a fist pump in the air, he pushed me into the clubhouse. “We need to celebrate!”
He tried to get me a drink, but I declined. He was so excited, telling everyone the story of how I’d defeated my demons and driven, that I didn’t have a chance to tell anyone about the bike.
“Who in the fuck is in my spot?” Rob asked loudly, a few minutes later as he pushed into the clubhouse.
For a blink, the place quieted. Then there was a commotion as the Bastards looked around to see who in the hell was stupid enough to park in their president’s designated space. I stood up and gave him a little wave.
His eyes widened in surprise before he frowned and hurried to me, grabbed my hand, and pulled me back outside, his agitation forgotten. The door had barely shut behind us when his hands were on my cheeks and he leaned down.
“I love you.” Then his lips caught mine.
I kissed him back. “I know,” I mumbled against his lips.
“Did Matty call you down?”
I shook my head. “No. Why?”
“No reason.” He frowned. “I’m just surprised to see you here.”
I nodded, narrowing my eyes. He was hiding something. Big surprise.
“I’m actually leaving,” I assured him, irritated by the relief that crossed his face at my announcement. “I feel like shit about this morning and wanted to bring you something.”
He smiled, confused. “What?”
I motioned behind him. He turned. “The V-Star?” He looked at me. “You brought me a bike?”
I grinned. “I bought you the bike.” I threaded my fingers through his and pulled him over to it. “I know it isn’t as nice as the one you sold, but—,”
“It’s fuckin’ perfect,” he kissed me again. “Wanna go for a ride?”
I laughed. “It’s not registered.”
He shook his head and threw a leg over. “I don’t give two shits. Come ride with me.”
“I have short sleeves,” I pointed out.
“I’ll be careful.”
I shook my head. “We need helmets.”
“We’ll be fine,” he argued.
“I don’t want you to die,” I insisted.
He reached out and grabbed me, pulling me closer. “I’m not afraid to die. I’m afraid to live one more second on this earth without you.” He tugged me even closer. “Get on the bike, Angel. Come live on the edge with me.”
Something was wrong; I could feel it.
He grinned and tilted his head.
I couldn’t deny him. I climbed on and wrapped my arms around him. If I held on tight enough, everything would be fine. It had to be.
37
Rocker
I spent the majority of the day with my girl, just riding. Part of me wanted to keep going, to run away and never come back, to start over, just the two of us. The other part knew I couldn’t do that to my friends, my family.
I called the Bastards into Court—our meeting space where the league made important decisions—as soon as I was back. They knew before I told them. Either my best friend had let it spill, or they’d figured it out. As I looked around the room at my club, my brothers, I saw nothing but understanding.
I wanted to vote in an interim president. They voted against the idea. They claimed that we had a board of directors to handle decisions and that I’d be home before I knew it.
I still hadn’t heard from McCue, but I was going to be ready to go first thing Monday morning. The quicker I got to up to Concord to start my sentence, the sooner I could be out. Three fucking years. I’d done it before. I could do it again. I blew out a long breath and downed another shot.
“How’d Princess take it?” Jeremy asked, sitting down at the small table I’d commandeered from the prospects not long before.
He’d been one of the most surprising additions to the Bastards. His advice was unparalleled; not only because he was brilliant, but also because of his family’s criminal justice background. He even had a new nickname—Hawkeye. The man never missed his target.
“Haven’t told her yet.”
I’d tried. Fuck me, I’d tried. Every time we’d stopped, I’d started to say the words I’d rehearsed. And every single time, I’d choked.
“Why in the fuck not?”
“She bought me a bike. A fucking bike. Spent all her savings. How do I tell her that she just blew money on a bike I can’t ride for the next three fucking years?”
“By opening your mouth and telling her the truth. You need to do it, brother. That’s one thing she can’t hear from Barbie.”
I nodded my agreement. Cris needed to hear it from me. “I never told her about the investigation,” I admitted, feeling like a complete douche. “She confessed to keep me from going to jail. And now” —I lifted my glass in mock salute—“I’m going anyway.”
“You were always goin’ away,” he pointed out.
“Not in her mind.”
“She likes to see the best in people and every situation.”
Tank joined us, taking the seat between us, but leaned toward me. “What are you gonna do about Princess? You really gonna make her wait three years?”
I didn’t answer. I’d never thought about doing anything else. She was mine. I was hers. She’d wait.
“You didn’t see her last time—she was going out of her fucking mind. Miserable.”
“What am I supposed to do?” I asked sarcastically, my eyes sliding to Hawkeye. “Break up with her right before I go away and then leave her unprotected?” Fucking asshole.
“That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do.” Tank nodded. “‘Cept she ain’t unprotected. She’s got us. She may be yours now, but she’ll always be a little sister. She’s always got a home here.”
I stared him down. Brothers went away all the time. They never broke up with their ol’ ladies.
“Have you been hitting the pipe again?”
Tank laughed. “I wish.”
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Hawkeye shake his head before he left the table.
“I’m not breaking up with her. I love her. I’m going to spend every day of the next three years missing her. She’ll be the only fucking thing that keeps me sane.”
“She went to jail for you. She confessed to a fuckin’ murder she didn’t commit just to get you out. She bought you a fuckin’ bike. With the money she’d been savin’ to get herself one. Maybe you’re too fuckin’ blind to see it. There isn’t a thing Princess wouldn’t do for you. Do something for her for a change.”
“Ho
w is that doing something for her?”
“It’s giving her her freedom. It’s allowing her to live instead of spendin’ every second worryin’ about you.” He looked around the room and slapped the table twice. “Just think about it, yeah?”
I stared into my whiskey, letting his words sink in. Tank was right. I hated to admit it, but he had a good fucking point.
I’d killed Hansen. I had no problem doing the time. It was my burden to bear.
If I didn’t break up with her, Cris would pay, too. She’d have the burden of a boyfriend who she’d have to take care of, but I wouldn’t be here to share in her struggles. I wouldn’t be there to protect her. Every time she met someone new, she’d have to decide if she needed to lie about me or admit that her old man was locked away.
I didn’t want that for her. I didn’t want to drag her down, to ruin her life anymore. She was brilliant, talented, and beautiful. She deserved so much better than to be stuck with some loser convict.
I didn’t have a fucking choice. I had to let her go. It was what was best for her.
There are things we don’t want to happen but we can’t control. There are things we don’t want to know but we can’t ignore. There are people we don’t want to live without but we can’t always hold on to.
All we can do is let go and hope to God it turns out the way it’s supposed to.
She was snoring softly when I got home.
I kicked off my boots by the door, dropped my cut onto the floor, and left a trail of clothes as I made my way to bed. I only had a few more nights with her, and I wanted to make every one of them count. When I slid in behind her, she turned toward me, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and tucked herself into my arms.
I held her tight, smelling the soft apple scent of her shampoo, and thought about our life. We’d come so far and I had so many plans for us. As pathetic and sappy as it was, I wanted to grow old with her. I could see the two of us, sitting in rocking chairs on our front porch, watching our grandkids play in the yard. Cris made me want things I’d never thought I’d want again.
