by Devney Perry
For TJ? Or for him and his men? “I’d better go.”
I waited, giving Dad a moment to flip to Mom’s letter and read it. Then I pulled the papers away and returned them to my briefcase. The wig on my head was beginning to itch. The glasses on my nose pinched the bridge. The air in here was stifling, not because it was too warm, but because for every moment I lingered, my emotions choked me that much more.
Without another word, I walked to the door and knocked for the guard. He immediately opened, shot Dad a wary look, then escorted me to check out.
Pretending to be Nancy made my head spin. My heart ached as I went through the motions. I was being torn in two directions and whichever side I chose meant abandoning the other.
How many years had I wanted a relationship with Dad? Now I had the chance for one. Was there really another side to choose? For Dad, I’d lose Emmett. But I’d lost him on Saturday, hadn’t I?
By the time I was led to the exit, I was numb. The exhaustion of not sleeping for a week had caught up with me. Without Emmett’s arms to hold me, I tossed and turned. Without his warmth, even a pile of blankets couldn’t keep the cold at bay.
My steps were so heavy through the prison’s parking lot that my heels skidded rather than clicked on the asphalt. I was sluggish as I drove away from the prison and to my regular turnout spot. The second the Nova was parked, I tugged the wig from my head and the glasses from my face, stuffing them both in the briefcase. My blazer was suffocating so I stripped it off and tossed it into the backseat.
What am I doing? How do I fix this?
Visiting Dad should have made me feel better. I’d expected to feel better. Instead, my skin crawled, and my stomach twisted.
Dad’s words ran on repeat.
Whatever they told you is a lie. Trust me.
Emmett had never told me to trust him. He hadn’t needed to. Because he’d simply given me his own trust, expecting to earn mine in return through honesty. When people told the truth, they didn’t need to order you to trust them.
How many times in my life had Dad said those words? Trust me.
A hundred. A thousand. I’d put my faith in my father, like my mother. Like my brother. And look where they were now. One would spend the rest of her life pining for a man she’d likely never see again. And the other was dead.
Trust me.
Trust was a dangerous concept.
Home was miles away, but I’d be there by dinner. Maybe if I drank a bottle of wine and ate an entire pizza, I’d be drunk and full enough to sleep through the night.
But as I put the Nova in drive and headed down the road, I didn’t turn toward Missoula. Instead, I drove to Clifton Forge.
I wasn’t even sure why. Just that I needed . . . more.
It was almost dark by the time I arrived. The sun was diving behind the mountains and the faint glow from the horizon cast the town in shades of black and gray.
There was a chance Emmett was home, but it was a Friday night and before I drove all the way to his place, I figured I’d stop at The Betsy in case he’d come down after work. The stop paid off.
The orange and blue neon lights from the bar gleamed on the chrome of Emmett’s motorcycle beside the door. I parked but didn’t go inside. I waited, gathering the last of my strength. And then a calm washed over me.
On Saturday, after Emmett had walked out of my condo, I’d been upset and angry and hurt. Deep down, I’d known it hadn’t been the end. But tonight was.
Tonight, this would finish.
I was ready for this to end.
Maybe I’d get the truth. Maybe I already had. But I wanted to know what had happened to my brother and for that, I needed the other side of the story. Emmett’s side.
Country music greeted me when I pushed the car door open. A man in jeans and a flannel button-down was walking inside, the two of us converging at the entrance.
“Hey.” He dipped his head as he opened the door for me. “How’s it going?”
“Fine.” I didn’t so much as spare him a glance, though I felt his eyes track down my charcoal satin blouse and black fitted slacks.
“Are you meeting someone tonight? I’d love to buy you a dr—”
“Not interested.”
There was only one man I’d be talking to tonight.
Once inside, I turned toward the pool tables. A group of men clustered around the rack of cues, each with a beer bottle in hand. But no Emmett. I took one step toward the bar, intending to find a seat, but froze when a pair of chocolate brown eyes snared mine.
Emmett sat on a stool at the bar.
And he was not alone.
A brunette was standing in between his open legs, his knees bracketing her hips. She wore a pair of jeans that fit her curves like a second skin. Her slinky tank top hugged her chest. Her hands were on his arms, roaming over his tattoos.
Those were my arms to touch. Those were my tattoos to explore.
He stared at me from over her shoulder, the woman short enough that even seated, he was taller.
She leaned in to whisper something in his ear.
He must have grunted a response because his chest rose and fell, then he lifted one of those hands and a beer bottle to his lips.
That had better be the only goddamn thing his lips touched tonight.
I had no claim on him. Not after what I’d done. But the surge of bitter envy through my veins was enough that I had to force myself to keep still. Otherwise, I’d walk over and rip that brunette’s hair out from the roots.
If he’d fucked another woman . . .
My stomach churned. There was pain and then there was this, watching him watch me as another woman looped her arms around his neck.
He kept his eyes pinned to mine as she rose on her toes and brought her lips toward his ear.
For a moment, I was sure he’d turn and kiss her. That he’d let her take his lips while I watched.
I didn’t look away.
This was my fault, not his, and I would bear the consequences.
I held my breath, my hands trembling at my sides, as she pressed her body to his. Did he like the feel of her breasts on his chest? Did he like the scent of her perfume and the caress of her hands?
Oh, God. I was going to be sick.
I swallowed hard, a split second away from running out of the bar, when Emmett stood so abruptly that it forced the brunette away.
She stumbled and would have fallen if not for his quick grip, catching her by the elbow to right her on her feet. She stared up at him, shock etched on her pretty face.
He didn’t give her an explanation. He simply walked past her and stalked my way.
I held my ground, my eyes never wavering from his. To keep them, I had to tilt my chin up the closer he came. Then he was towering above me. His scent filled my nose and I drew in a long breath, having missed it this past week.
“You let her touch you,” I blurted. Nice, Nova. Maybe I should have led with something else.
His nostrils flared. “Who I fuck is none of your business. Not anymore.”
“Did you?”
“Did I what?”
I gulped, hating myself for what I was about to ask, but I had to know. “Did you fuck her? Or anyone?”
He stared at me, his eyes so full of fury it was like seeing a different person. But he must have heard the desperation, the anguish in my voice, because he gave me a clipped, “No.”
The air rushed from my lungs. “Ace.”
“Emmett.”
“Emmett,” I whispered.
“What do you want, June?”
June.
Whatever composure I’d had shattered. He knew, of course he knew. I’d known for a week that he knew my real name. But I didn’t want to be June, especially not with Emmett.
“It is June, right?” He leaned in closer.
“Yes.”
He stood straight and crossed his arms over his chest. “What are you doing here?”
“I want the truth.”
/> He scoffed. “I’m not the liar here. Nova.”
My shoulders sagged. “I . . . I’m—”
“Sorry? Yeah. I heard you last weekend.” He shook his head, then pushed past me, walking for the door.
He left me behind. Again.
I sucked in one breath and when I looked up, the brunette was glaring at me from where Emmett had left her standing.
Could she make him happy? Could he love her? Could she give him a future? She was real. She didn’t need to lie about her name or her family. Her biggest indiscretion was probably shoplifting lip gloss in high school.
She was everything I wasn’t.
My father had probably murdered Emmett’s father. His father had definitely murdered my brother.
There was no sick world where this would ever work between us. There was no redemption here, not for me, a woman who’d deceived him about everything for months.
Still, I clung to the hope that maybe . . .
There was no maybe. When was I going to get that into my head?
Going home was the answer. Starting my life over was the next plan. My father would eventually work out his revenge on the Tin Gypsies, and they might deserve it.
But they might not.
And I had to know.
I unglued my feet and tore my eyes away from the brunette, turning and walking outside. I expected to see an empty space where Emmett’s bike had been. I expected to drive to his house and pound on the door for hours until he let me in.
Instead, there he was, astride his Harley. Waiting.
He’d pulled on a jacket, the leather fitted to his bulky arms. Emmett jerked his chin, started his engine and roared out of the parking lot.
Much like our first night together, I climbed in my car.
And followed him home.
Chapter Twenty
Emmett
“Do you have a jacket?” I asked as Nova climbed out of her car. Christ. Did I really care if she got cold? Yes.
She blinked, looked to the house and then back to my face. “Um . . . yeah.”
She went to the car’s backseat and grabbed a blazer, quickly slipping it on.
I wasn’t letting her inside the door, not just because I didn’t trust her but because it was a goddamn wreck. After a week-long bender, my house was trashed. There were beer cans and liquor bottles scattered everywhere. My living room reeked of old pizza and my bedroom of dirty clothes.
I hadn’t been on a tear like this since the club.
Ironically, I’d gone on a bender after shooting Nova’s brother.
Leo had gotten me piss drunk last Saturday after I’d put it all together. He’d stayed the night, never leaving my side as I’d come to terms with this. Or tried.
I was still struggling.
And rather than deal with it, I’d spent most of my days in the bottle. Hell, today was the first day all week I’d managed to sober up enough to head into work.
Dash had told everyone I’d gotten sick. He knew the truth. So did Leo. But TJ Johnson’s death was club business, and even though I hated lying to Presley and Isaiah, it was better they didn’t know.
I’d planned on drinking tonight away too and would have if Nova hadn’t shown up. One look at her and it was amazing how quickly my buzz had disappeared.
She looked beautiful. Stunning, really. My fingers itched to dive into her hair. My mouth watered at the thought of fitting my lips over hers. Mostly, I wanted to pull her into my arms and pretend that this past week hadn’t happened.
Instead I kept my distance, leading the way to the deck chairs we’d sat on countless times.
I took my usual seat.
Nova—June—whatever the fuck I was supposed to call her, took hers too. She placed her hands in her lap and looked out at the trees, her body tense.
I sat perfectly still, not trusting myself to keep from touching her. There’d been a split second at the bar, right after she’d walked in the door, that my heart had leapt out of my goddamn chest. I’d been so fucking happy to see her, but then it had all come crashing back.
The lies. The deception. She’d used me.
And now she was here because she wanted the truth.
I bit back a bitter laugh. The truth? We were months too late.
“I’m sorry, Emmett.” She looked over and even in the dark I saw the tears swimming in her eyes.
It would be so easy to fall for those damn tears. To pick her up, cradle her to my chest and promise her we’d figure this out. But it was too late.
“Was it all a lie?”
“No. Not all of it.”
I stared at her, studying her face like I had at her condo last week. A face I thought I’d known so well and now . . . I didn’t know shit. “What was true?”
“Most of it. More than you probably think. And when we were together, that was true.”
I believed her. There was only so much she could fake. Her intentions here. Her name. But when our bodies had been connected, when I’d moved inside of her, there’d been no faking that.
She’d been mine.
And damn it, I would have kept her.
But I was a fool tricked into believing a string of lies. Tricked into thinking there was a woman out there for me. Tricked into falling in love with her.
“Why?” I knew the answer, but I asked it anyway. If she wanted the truth, she could blaze the trail.
“My brother was a Warrior.” Her voice was so quiet it nearly got lost in the night. “You know that already, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“He joined the club as soon as he turned eighteen. He didn’t even finish high school. He wanted to be a Warrior and the second they’d let him prospect, he was knocking on their door.”
It didn’t sound all that much different than when I’d joined. The same was true with Dash. Granted, we’d graduated from high school. My parents wouldn’t have allowed it any other way. But the moment I’d been able, all I’d wanted to do was ride a bike alongside my dad. To wear the cut and share in the pride of being a Tin Gypsy.
“When we were growing up, TJ was my best friend. That was his name. TJ. You probably know that too.”
Again, I nodded.
“My older sister and I would fight a lot, but TJ and I were close. We’d spend our summers together playing outside. Mom would let us stay up late on Friday nights after school, so we’d camp out in the living room and he always let me pick the movies we watched. I helped him study algebra and would make him grilled peanut butter and jelly sandwiches whenever he flunked a test.”
She’d loved him. Pure and simple. She’d loved her brother.
My insides twisted and chest pinched. I really should have had more to drink tonight. The guilt had been crippling this week but being here, listening to her . . .
There was no way she could know that I’d been the one to kill her brother.
Dad had insisted on taking responsibility. He’d made Leo and me swear that when we returned to the clubhouse after the shooting, we’d tell everyone Dad had pulled the trigger.
Technically, he had. But he’d been out of bullets, having used most of them earlier that day to sight in his new pistol. He hadn’t reloaded his magazine.
My Glock had been loaded full.
I would have owned it, but the Gypsies had been at war with the Warriors for so long that a dead member was bound to cause another stir. Dad had wanted the retaliation aimed his way, not mine.
I’d wondered many times over the years if he’d known just how the Warriors would strike back. If he’d known that by taking responsibility, he’d signed his own death certificate.
Dad had saved my life. He’d saved me so I could be here sitting beside Nova.
The only way she’d know was if I told her the truth.
She’d despise me.
Yes, she’d deceived me for months, but I wasn’t sure I could stomach her hatred. She had every right. Just like I had every right to hate her.
Yet here we were, on
my deck, sitting in chairs we’d sat in for months because I couldn’t let her go.
“He was at a fight,” she said, her voice hoarse. “Boxing or MMA or something. I don’t know. But it was organized by your club.”
“Boxing,” I told her. “It was always boxing.”
She nodded, tucking her hands between her legs. She was probably cold. The sun had disappeared behind the horizon and the temperature was plummeting.
“I don’t know if TJ was a good boxer or not. I’d never seen him in a fight. He came home once from the Warrior clubhouse with cuts on his knuckles and a black eye. He didn’t talk about what happened with the club. Not that he’d tell me anyway.”
How had TJ even gotten hooked up with the Warriors? From the outside, the Johnsons were a normal family without any ties to a motorcycle club. They hadn’t lived in Ashton, so it wasn’t like TJ had been exposed to the Warriors on a regular basis. Was there a relative or some tie I’d missed? Maybe if I hadn’t been in a drunken stupor this past week, I’d know the answer.
“He went to one of your fights.” Nova’s face hardened and she stared out into the distance. “You cheated him. I don’t know exactly what happened but the other Warriors who were there said that TJ got cheated out of his fight and his winnings. When he called you on it, he was killed. By your father.”
There was rage in her voice. And that fury, right there, was the motivation for her charade. There was enough anger vibrating off her body to drive her to revenge.
Except TJ’s death had been years and years ago. Maybe she hadn’t known. Maybe the real story had only come out after the Warriors had all been arrested.
It was a fucking shame her story was wrong.
“That’s what you think happened.” I scoffed. “Figures.”
“What figures?”
“It figures that the Warriors would come up with that bullshit story about how your brother was killed.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Whose truth?”
She flinched.
“Do you want the truth or not?”
“How do I know you won’t lie to me?”
I leveled her with my gaze. “One of us on this deck is a liar. It sure as hell isn’t me.”
Nova had the decency to look ashamed.