by A. M. Myers
“Two points for the very convincing “I’m sorry I’m a piece of shit” face,” she whispers and I smack her in the back.
“Stop it.”
Sawyer meets my gaze and my heart leaps into my throat, pounding like a bass drum as butterflies flutter through my belly.
Aw, hell.
“Juliette,” he murmurs, the rich texture of his voice coating me like a blanket and I nod, studying him as he tries to subtly wipe his hand on his jeans. God, he looks nervous and it’s breaking my heart. Wait… why is it breaking my heart? One, I barely know him - a fact that was made all too clear to me last night - and two, I have every damn right to be angry after the way he acted. Then again, I understand the pain he was in yesterday all too well.
“Sawyer.”
He sucks in a breath. “Can we talk?”
“Sure,” I answer and his gaze flicks to Mercedes.
“Alone?”
“Nope,” Mercedes answers, shaking her head as she lifts her coffee cup to her lips and takes a sip. “You want my girl back, you can grovel… in front of an audience.”
“Mercedes,” I whisper as I give her a little nudge. Usually, I appreciate her attitude but the look on his face is killing me right now and I don’t know how much longer I can sit here before I give in. Every cell in my body is screaming to get up and give him a hug but I force myself to remain in my seat.
“No, it’s okay,” Sawyer answers. “I’ll do it here.”
He drops down on one knee and Mercedes and I both suck in a breath as our eyes widen.
“Eight points for the grand sweeping gesture,” she whispers, her voice full of shock but I’m too stunned to say anything in response or tell her to knock it off. What is he doing? I meet Sawyer’s eyes and shake my head in confusion.
“What are you doing?”
“Juliette,” he says, his voice a perfect mixture of confident and nervous as he holds the bouquet of flowers out in front of him. “I know I really screwed things up last night. The dinner you planned and cooked for us was so beautiful and I really wish we could have eaten it together. You’ll never know how much I’ll regret ruining it.”
I shake my head but he doesn’t let me say anything.
“And I know this isn’t an excuse for my behavior but the club lost one of our girls yesterday, she was murdered, and I didn’t handle it well. Partly because I take the work we do so seriously and partly because of my past which I really hope I get a chance to tell you about.”
I scoot to the end of the bench and set my coffee down on the pavement before reaching out for him but he shakes his head as he leans back. I can’t decide if I admire his commitment to his apology or if I just wish he’d let me forgive him already.
“I meant what I said last night… you are my angel and all that other shit… it is stuff I’m really trying hard to work through. I just hope you’ll give me time and another chance to do this right.”
“Um…” Mercedes says. “Not to break up a super romantic moment but what exactly are you asking her?”
His eyes never leave mine as he smiles and I melt into a puddle of goo. “I love having you at the house, love knowing that I get to come home to you, so I really hope you don’t want to go stay somewhere else but I understand if you feel like that is what you need to do. And if you do decide to leave, I just hope you’ll still let me take you out on a real date and show you that everything I said the night we first kissed was the truth. So, what do you say? Will you get all dressed up and let me show you off to the world?”
How the hell is a girl supposed to say no to a request like that?
My heart thunders in my chest and a smile creeps across my face as I nod. “Okay.”
A wide smile stretches across his face as he jumps up and grabs my hand, yanking me up off of the bench and into his arms. Warmth radiates through my body as I tilt my head back to meet his gaze and he leans down, sealing his lips over mine. I gasp at the electricity that races through my body as I circle my arms around his neck and pull him closer, unable to get close enough. He holds me tight to his body and kisses me like he’s never going to let me go and a small part of me, the irrational, whimsical part that believes all this could be real, hopes that he never does.
Chapter Sixteen
Sawyer
Grabbing my beer off the bar, I turn and scan the room. Fuzz is hunched over a table, files scattered all across the surface as he scowls and I shake my head before crossing the room and sinking into the chair next to him.
“What are you up to, brother?”
He glances up at me. “Going over old cases and looking for a pattern.”
“You realize you aren’t a cop anymore, right?” I ask and he glares at me as he pulls out another sheet of paper and shoves it in my face.
“Just look at this. It’s a pattern.”
I study the paper in my hand as I take a sip of my beer. There are five names written down, three of them grouped together at the bottom and the two other off on their own with numbers in parenthesis next to them. “What am I looking at?”
“In the eight years that we’ve been doing this work,” he says, pointing to the paper. “We’ve lost five girls. One, the year after we started. The second one during year three and then three in the past two years.”
“Three? I thought it was just Dina and Sammy.”
“And Laney.”
My eyes narrow. “That was Rodriguez’s case.”
“That he called us in on,” Fuzz exclaims. “Plus, one could argue that Rodriguez is so connected with the work that we do that anyone who had a grudge or vendetta against either of us would likely come after either one of us… or both.”
“Look, I…”
“Three in two years, Moose,” he cuts in, shaking his head. I nod.
“Yeah, it’s been a bad couple of years but…”
“No, it’s more than that.”
“Fuzz,” I sigh, tossing his paper back on the table. “I know you’ve been struggling with Sammy’s death. We all have but it’s just a coincidence.”
He shakes his head, turning back to the files. “No, there’s a connection here. I just know it.”
Sighing, I watch him as he scans the paper in front of him, his brows knitted together in concentration. We’re all struggling with the people we’ve lost lately and I know each of us deals in our own way but Fuzz’s obsession with finding a hidden plot against the club is dangerous, a cancer that will spread and drive all of us to hysteria if we buy into it.
The door to the clubhouse opens and I glance over my shoulder as sunlight streams into the room and Tawny walks in.
“Fuck,” I hiss, turning away and shaking my head. What are the chances that I pretend like I didn’t see her? Not that it will matter for long.
“Sawyer,” she purrs, walking up behind me. “Just the man I was looking for.”
“What do you need, Tawny?”
She places her hands on my shoulders as she stops behind me. “Can we talk somewhere more private?”
“Nope,” I answer, rolling my shoulders to try and get her hands off me. “We can talk here.”
“Aw, come on, baby,” she whispers, leaning down so far that her mouth brushes the shell of my ear. I shudder in revulsion. How the fuck did I ever find this woman attractive? “Let’s go upstairs. I think we’ll need a little privacy.”
My restraint snaps and I stand up before turning to face her. “What the fuck makes you think I want to go upstairs with you?”
“Sawyer,” she whispers, blushing as the guys all start looking in our direction. Funny how she finally uses my real name now that she wants something from me. “I know you got all my messages and I’m sorry for the way things went down but let’s go upstairs and fix this.”
“I don’t want to fix this, Tawny. I broke up with you, remember?”
She places her hand on my chest and I glance down at it. “Well, maybe I can change your mind.”
“No.” I laugh, lifting my bot
tle of beer to my lips. “You can’t.”
Her hand starts dragging down the front of my body and I choke on my drink as I grab it and push it away as I shake my head.
“Don’t ever do that again.”
“I know you love my mouth,” she whispers, taking a step toward me and leaning in to kiss my neck. “And all the things I can do with it.”
I dodge her advance and slip out of her grasp as I finish off my beer. Fuck this shit. No more trying to be nice. No more letting her down easy because I’m not going to risk losing Juliette just to protect Tawny’s feelings, especially when she can’t take a hint. She spins around to face me and smirks. A few chuckles ring out behind me as she starts stalking toward me and I back up like a cornered animal.
“We don’t have to be anything more than we were before. We can just go back to being fuck buddies. Isn’t that what you want?”
I shake my head as my back hits the bar. “No. The only thing I want from you is to leave me the hell alone.”
“You don’t mean that. I know you have to be getting lonely, baby.”
“I met someone else,” I snap and she screeches to a halt, staring at me with wide eyes. I can feel every set of eyes in the room on me.
“What?”
“You heard me - I met someone else and it’s serious.”
She starts to shake as rage stains her cheeks. “You cheated on me?”
“No. I met her in Miami,” I say and her color quickly returns to normal as she laughs. Storm nudges my arm and I glance over at him.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah.”
He nods and as I turn back to Tawny, I catch sight of Smith and Chance sitting at one of the other tables, laughing as they watch the scene unfold. Motherfuckers.
“How serious could it be if you just met her?” Tawny asks. “We have history.”
I shake my head. The last thing I want is Tawny and our history but I have a feeling nothing short of marriage will deter her. Sucking in a breath, I cross my arms over my chest and say the first thing that comes to mind.
“I’m claiming her.”
Tawny gasps, taking a step back. “What?”
“I’m fucking claiming her,” I say louder, surprised by how right it feels. “Y’all heard me, right? Juliette Shaw is my old lady.”
“You son of a bitch,” she hisses, charging at me. Storm and Kodiak step in front of me, blocking her path as Blaze stomps into the room with his phone in his hand.
“Moose, Kodiak, and Storm, get over to Peyton’s house now. Something is going down.”
The three of us jump up and Tawny stumbles back as we push past her to get to the door.
“Seriously?” She calls after us but she’s the last of my priorities, now or ever. We rush out to our bikes, working like a well oiled machine as the roar of bikes fills the air and we peel out of the parking lot. Peyton’s house is about three miles from the clubhouse but to get there, you have to go through a busy part of town so we stick to backroads and perform some less than legal maneuvers as we weave through traffic.
When we pull up in front of Peyton’s house, everything looks normal which only increases my unease as I scan the neighborhood. As we climb off our bikes, the front door opens and a small little thing with mousy blonde hair steps out of the house with a suitcase in her hand. She has bruises all over her face and arms as well as a nasty cut down the middle of her lip. Kodiak glances at me with a questioning expression and I shrug.
“Peyton?” Storm calls and she nods as she steps out onto the sidewalk. “Where’s your boyfriend?”
She points over her shoulder. “Sleeping.”
We all exchange a glance.
“I think we’re going to need a little more explanation,” I tell her and she sighs as she glances back at the house. The door is still wide open and I wonder if the motion sensor is just continually going off in there while we stand around outside.
“I’m happy to do that but can we not do it here? Also, I’m really hungry.”
Storm nods, taking control as he steps forward. “Yeah. Have you ever ridden a bike before?”
She shakes her head.
“Okay. Let me show you the basics.”
As Storm leads her down to his bike and explains what to do, I take her bag and secure it to the back of my bike as Kodiak closes the front door. Once we’re all ready, Storm turns to us.
“Let’s take her to that restaurant we passed on the way here.”
I nod. He climbs on his bike and helps Peyton get on behind him before pulling away from the curb. As I follow them, I check my mirrors obsessively to make sure we’re not being followed. The whole situation is weird. From everything we’ve heard, her boyfriend is super obsessive so why is he just missing all of the sudden? I mean, I don't want to accuse her of anything but you got to wonder if he's really lying dead on the kitchen floor or something. It wouldn’t be the first time one of these women snapped and did something crazy after years of torture and abuse.
Folks turn to look at us as we pull into the parking lot of the restaurant Storm suggested, their gazes bouncing from each one of us to Peyton’s battered face before turning back to us with disgust. You’d think after years of doing this work in Baton Rouge, people would know what it meant when they saw a Devil with a woman who had been knocked around but they always just assume we had something to do with it. Sometimes I wonder if we’ll ever get to a place where we can lose our old reputation and be known as a beacon of good in this town but maybe that’s too much to ask.
“I don’t want to hang out here for long,” Storm murmurs to me as we climb off our bikes and I nod, scanning the street again.
“Agreed.”
Storm guides Peyton into the restaurant with Kodiak and me guarding his back. We bypass the hostess stand and walk over to the booth all the way in the corner. He lets Peyton slide onto the seat closest to the door before sitting next to her and Kodiak and I sit across from them, watching the door. A flustered waitress rushes up to our table and pastes a smile on her face.
“Hi. Can I get y’all anything to drink?”
Storm nods to Peyton. “Go ahead and order whatever you want. To go.”
Nodding, she looks up at the waitress and orders a root beer, a cheeseburger, and fries. The waitress looks to each of us, silently asking if we want anything and we all shake our heads. The faster we can get out of here the better.
“Okay,” Storm says as the waitress walks away to put Peyton’s order in. “Why don’t you tell us what happened?”
Tears well up in her eyes and guilt swamps me. We have been going over how to best help her for days but we couldn’t agree on anything and in the end, she was on her own to deal with his abuse.
“Yesterday, I got distracted while I was cooking dinner and accidentally burned it.” She shudders. “It sent him into a rage and when he was finished beating me, I couldn’t even get up off of the floor. He realized that I was seriously hurt so he picked me up and carried me to the car before taking me to this friend of his who was a medic in the Army. He examined me and stitched up this cut on my arm.” She points to a nasty gash on the underside of her arm that I didn’t notice before and my stomach rolls. “This guy, I think he felt bad for me, so he slipped me some painkillers that he had left over when Dustin wasn’t looking and I hid them in my bra.”
“So what happened today?” Kodiak asks, his voice soft.
“He ordered me to make him his lunch and I remembered that I still had the pills in my bra so I snuck off to the bathroom and crushed them up and put them in his drink.”
Storm meets my eyes. “Is he…uh…”
“Alive?” she asks, nodding. “Yes. He’s just passed out.”
“And that’s how you were able to sneak out of the house?” I ask. She shakes her head.
“No. That’s how I was able to get his phone and unlock it with his fingerprint. The code for the security system is saved in his notes so I found it and called you guys.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I know it’s not funny but…”
She shakes her head. “No. It is funny and I’m sure I will think it’s even funnier when it doesn’t hurt so much to laugh.”
“We can get you into a doctor to make sure nothing is broken.”
Sighing, she practically deflates in front of us. “I would appreciate that.”
“Please tell me you left your phone at the house, too,” Kodiak says and she grins as she nods. Despite all she’s been through, there is a bit of a sparkle in her eyes and it makes me smile to see how strong she is.
“Both of our phones are currently sitting at the bottom of a toilet bowl.”
We all laugh.
“I just…” she says before clamping her lips shut and taking a deep breath. “I need to thank you guys. Two weeks ago, I was ready to die and a big part of me was convinced that was my only option and then my mom told me she had contacted you all and it gave me the strength to fight again.”
“Is that where you’re going to go? To your mom’s?”
She nods. “About a month ago, she sold her house and moved two hours away so he has no idea where to even look for me.”
“Have you spoken to her to let her know you’re on your way?”
“No,” she answers. “I didn’t want to have a call to her on my phone in case he finds some way to access my call log.”
Kodiak nods. “Well, I suppose he’ll find the call to us first and if he does we’ll be able to give you a heads up.”
“Oh… no, he won’t find the call to you.” She giggles at our confused looks. “I called you from his phone. He’ll be so obsessed with going over everything in my phone that he won’t even think to check his.”
