by A. M. Myers
What if she went to him?
Shaking my head, I push the idea from my mind as I grab my phone and pull up the tracking app I put on her phone right after the break-in at the club. She doesn’t know about it yet and I know she’ll be pissed but I really had the best intentions. There is also a tracker on her car, in her purse, and embedded in the necklace I bought her in Charleston. Getting that one was kind of tricky, though since I had to do it in the middle of the night and hide it well enough that she wouldn’t see it.
So far, it’s worked.
The app loads and I stare at her car as it turns down a street not far from the studio.
Where the fuck is she going?
She stops halfway down the street and my head falls back against the seat as all of the air in my lungs rushes out of me.
Oh, thank fucking God.
I don’t know why I didn’t think to check Eden’s place first. Sighing again, I lift my head and stare at the screen, contemplating my options. She has ignored two phone calls now and she went to Eden’s instead of coming home so maybe it’s best that I give her the night to cool off. The thought of spending the next almost twenty-four hours without her kills and my stomach twists at the idea. Every cell in my body is screaming at me to go to her and bring her home with me where she belongs but right now, with both of us so fucking mad, it would only makes things worse. As I look up at the house, I shake my head. The thought of going inside that house by myself is too painful and I turn back to the road and pull away from the curb.
I’ll spend the night at the clubhouse and in the morning, I will think of something epic to apologize to her.
As I drive through the dark streets, my mind drifts to the flowers again and a wave of possessiveness wells up inside me. Piper isn’t guilty of anything but this little fucker who sent her the flowers sure as hell is. My mind immediately flips to her recent ex, James, and the conversation we had before we went to Charleston. She said that he had wanted to get together again that night but when she said she blocked him and we never heard from him again, I forgot about it. Seems to me that James didn’t, though.
I pull into the clubhouse parking lot and park my truck before jumping out. It’s quiet here tonight and I glance over at the two bikes sitting near the door. Blaze and Streak are the only two people here which makes sense with all of us too consumed with protecting our families to hang out like we used to. It’s actually a little sad that Blaze and Streak don’t have anyone to go home to, now that I think about it.
Blaze glances up from one of the tables as I walk in and scowls as he studies my face. “What’s wrong?”
“Just some little fuck sending flowers to my wife.”
“Wanna go fuck him up?” he asks, nonchalant, like he didn’t just suggest we go beat the shit out of a little bitch. I stare at him for a second before shrugging.
“Maybe. I’ll keep you posted.”
He nods and I head upstairs to grab a laptop from my room. Streak is our resident tech expert but I don’t do too bad myself and for this, I’m perfectly capable of finding everything I need. Once I’m back downstairs in the bar with my computer, I set it down and grab a beer before opening it up to dig into James’s past.
Fuck…
I don’t even know this asshole’s last name.
Shaking my head, I open my computer and after it boots up, I log into social media and go to Piper’s profile. Maybe I can find a clue here. Scrolling down her page, I stop when I get a photo of them from four months ago and smile when I see that she tagged him. After opening his profile in another window, I stare at the picture for a second before I release a breath. Piper is my world and has been since we were kids so I know her inside and out, better than she knows herself and all it takes is a quick glance at the picture to tell me that she wasn’t ever happy with this fucker.
Reassured, I flip over to his profile and grab his birthday before opening up another search engine and typing in his full name and his birthdate. Like magic, his contact information pops up from a job search website and I look over my shoulder at Blaze, who is sipping coffee and flicking through the newspaper.
“You still feel like going to fuck someone up?”
He nods and slams his hand down on the paper. “Absolutely.”
I fight back a laugh as he jumps up, looking ready to put his fist through someone’s face but I can’t say that I blame him. All of us are feeling antsy with everything we’re dealing with and we have no way to expel that energy. As he pulls his cut on, he glances at the stairs.
“Streak!”
“What?” Streak’s voice yells from the end of the hallway and Blaze just crosses his arms over his chest and waits. Sure enough a few seconds later, Streak comes storming down the hallway and leans over the balcony. “What the fuck do you want?”
“Feel like going to fuck somebody up?”
He studies me. “Who?”
“This asshole that sent flowers to Piper,” I answer and his lip curls back for a second before he shrugs.
“Sure. I was getting bored anyway. Meet you outside.”
He disappears back down the hallway and Blaze nods to the front door. “Let’s go.”
“Should I be concerned by how eager you are to go kick someone’s ass?” I ask and he flicks a glare in my direction that tells me to drop the subject.
“No.”
Raising my hands in surrender, I let it go as we walk outside and he stops by his bike. I walk over to the truck and tell him to just follow me before climbing behind the wheel. Once Streak jogs out of the clubhouse and swings his leg over his bike, I back out of my parking space and pull out of the lot with them hot on my heels. My knuckles turn white as I grip the steering wheel tightly again thinking about this son of a bitch thinking he has any claim to my woman. Or thinking that it’s okay to send her flowers when she’s cut off all contact with him.
It’s assholes like this that we end up helping girls get away from and the more I think about him with Piper, the more I can’t wait to put my fist in his face.
Fuck.
I don’t even care if he presses charges at this point.
Although, having to call Piper and ask her to bail me out of jail might not go over so well. Then I would have to apologize for another thing.
We pull up in front of a decent looking house not from the club and the front door opens before I can even jump out of the truck. He eyes the bikes warily as the engines cut off and steps out onto the porch.
“Can I help you?”
I look down at the paper in my hand. “James Williams?”
“Yeah, what the hell do you want?” he snaps and my brow shoots up to my hairline as I look over at Blaze and Streak. Who in the fuck does this guy think he is? If three bikers show up on your doorstep looking for you, the worst thing you can do is cop an attitude. I walk halfway up his front sidewalk and stop, crossing my arms over my chest.
“I want you to stop sending flowers to my fucking wife.”
His head jerks back. “Your wife? I don’t even fucking know you, douchebag.”
“Sure, you do. I’m the guy you could never live up to in Piper’s mind.”
“Piper?” he asks, a smile curving across his face as he walks down the steps, suddenly feeling ten feet taller. Oh, I can’t wait to knock this guy out. My hand twitches with the urge to throw the first punch but I wait. “How is my girl?”
Blaze beats me to it, throwing the first punch instead and James crumbles to the ground with a whimper.
“Geez, guy, you gotta watch where you’re going. You could really hurt yourself tripping over shit like that” Streak says, stepping up behind him and lifting him to his feet again. “Now, I think my friend here was talking to you.”
“Fuck you,” he growls, spitting blood at my feet but I don’t move as I look down at it in disinterest. What the hell did Piper ever see in this guy? I mean, besides her desperate desire to have a baby.
“Listen up, you little bitch,” I say, s
tepping closer to him and feeling the last week’s worth of stress flowing through my veins. “You’re going to stay away from my wife. You’re going to stop sending her flowers and if you ever contact her again, I’ll fucking kill you. She’s not interested.”
He meets my gaze and grins as blood trickles from his nose. “That’s not what she said last night.”
Before I can even think about it, I swing and land a punch right to his face, satisfied by the crunch I hear when my knuckles connect with his nose. He moans in pain but Streak holds him upright, nodding to me to go again. I remember walking into the clubhouse and finding the photos everywhere as I land the next punch and when the one after that connects, I think of the message scrawled in red above the war room. On the fourth punch, the dreams I’ve been having where Piper’s picture is up there on those walls with Dina, Laney, and Sammy fill my mind and I land two more before Blaze grabs me and pulls me back.
“That’s enough.”
I shake him off and nod as Streak releases James and he falls to the ground, whimpering as he tries to crawl back up his steps.
“Dude, are you fucking crying?” Streak asks, looking down in disgust and jumping out of the way when James tries to grab his boot. A few people ride by on bikes, staring at us in horror and Streak kneels down next to James like he’s checking on him. “You all right, man? You need an ambulance?”
“Streak,” Blaze admonishes with a tired sigh and I glance over my shoulder as the couple on the bikes stops to see if he’s okay. I wave to them and smile and they watch me for a second before pulling away.
“We’ve got to go,” I tell Blaze, glancing around the neighborhood and he nods.
“Streak, get him back in his house.”
I hold up my hand and step forward before crouching down next to James and slapping his shoulder with just enough force to make my point. “You ever even think about coming near my woman again and I’ll be back. You can fucking count on that.”
“I’ll only stay away…” he says through clenched teeth. “If Piper wants me to.”
I flash him a smile with too many teeth as I squeeze his shoulder until he whimpers again. “Then, I’ll see you soon, friend.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Piper
My head pounds incessantly as I lean back in the dining room chair and close my eyes, taking a deep breath to try and fend off some of the pain. Rubbing my fingertips into my temples, I release a sigh as a wave of relief washes over me but as soon as it comes on, it’s gone again. My stomach rolls and I clamp my mouth shut, fighting the urge to vomit as I shake my head. Oh, hell, I am never drinking again. When I open my eyes, my gaze locks onto our wedding photo hanging on the wall and my chest starts to ache.
I’m mad.
I’m hurt.
And I miss my husband like crazy.
We’ve only been apart for twelve hours but in that time, I’ve been a wreck of conflicting emotions, bouncing from one to the next before circling back around as I spent the night over at Eden’s apartment, drinking way too much wine and bitching about Wyatt and his shitty ass behavior before I passed out on her couch. When I woke up this morning, I had three missed calls from him but there has been no contact since shortly after he left the studio last night so I have to consider the possibility that he is still mad, too. Not that he has a leg to stand on. I shake my head. He can’t honestly think that I am cheating on him, can he?
Last night, when he lobbed that accusation at me and threw our past in my face with hate shining in his eyes, I was hurt but as soon as he left and I had time to process everything that had happened, that quickly changed to anger.
Does he really think so little of me?
And why the hell did I even tell him the truth if I’m going to be punished for the lie for the rest of our lives?
I assumed that once he took some time to calm down, he would realize that it wasn’t true but his silence is scaring me. Tears sting my eyes as I remember him ordering me to pack my stuff and get out of the house last night but before they can slip down my face, the anger takes over again. This past week has been hell on him and I know that but I refuse to be treated this way, I refuse to allow him to use my past mistakes against me anytime something goes wrong. That is not the kind of marriage I want to have and I have a hard time believing that is what he wants either.
My heart jumps into my throat as the door handle turns and my head jerks up as Wyatt walks through the front door. We both freeze, our eyes locked, and all the pain and anger of last night arcing between us like electricity. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he sucks in a breath and flashes me a sheepish smile. Despite my anger, it feels like I can breathe again. The man standing in front of me is the one I love with every cell in my body, not the version of him I was confronted with last night.
“How are you?” he asks and I scoff.
“Pretty fucking shitty.”
He nods and sinks into the chair across from me as I grab my cup of coffee and lift it to my lips, taking a small sip. Sighing, he runs his fingers through his hair and my eyes widen at his red, swollen knuckles.
“What did you do?”
Glancing down at his hand as he sets it on the table, he shakes his head. “Nothing. Just got pissed and punched a wall.”
“You’re lucky you didn’t break your goddamn hand,” I mutter, rolling my eyes at his poor judgment.
God…
Of all the stupid things…
He nods and leans back in his chair, meeting my gaze again as he drops both of his hands into his lap. “Can we talk?”
Nodding, I arch a brow and cross my arms over my chest, waiting for his explanation. I had to keep telling myself last night that I didn’t do anything wrong and I didn’t deserve the treatment I got. Something Eden had to remind me of repeatedly when I tripped up and tried to rationalize his behavior with the shit that has been going on with the club.
“I’m sorry…”
“You’re going to have to do better than that, Wyatt,” I snap, interrupting him as I lift my coffee cup to my lips and he nods, dropping his head. He meets my gaze again and I can see the weight of the burden he insists on carrying on his shoulders. My heart aches at the strain on his face and the haunted look in his eyes. It’s a face I recognize all too well and my worry for my husband grows every day. Leaning forward, I reach across the table and hold my hand out to him. He stares at it for a second before looking up at me with hope and slipping his hand into mine.
“I’m not just letting go of what happened last night. It was a shitty thing to do and we’ll talk about it in a second but I’m more worried about you right now.”
His head jerks back in surprise. “Me?”
“Wyatt, you’re not sleeping, you’re barely eating, and I can see you slowly slipping away from me. You’re starting to look like I did before I left.”
“It’s just this shit with the club,” he whispers, running his free hand through his hair. The move has always been his go-to whenever he gets stressed but I’ve been seeing a whole lot more of it lately. With a sigh, I abandon my seat and walk over to him before climbing into his lap and straddling his thighs so I can cup his face between my hands.
“I know it’s stressful and I know how worried you are about me and everyone else but you also have to learn to deal with that instead of internalizing it and letting it eat away at you. What’s happening isn’t your fault and absolutely no one blames you.”
He drops his forehead to my chest and releases a heavy breath as a little bit of tension seeps out of his body. I run my fingers through his hair as tears sting my eyes and my chest aches for my big strong man and his fragile heart.
“I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose you,” he whispers and I shake my head, forcing his gaze back to mine.
“Hey. I’m not going anywhere.”
Pain flashes through his eyes as he grips my hips like he’s trying to keep me from floating away. “What if something happens to you? What if thi
s guy…”
“Stop, Wyatt,” I whisper, pressing my hand to his cheek as a tear slips down my face. “You’re making yourself crazy and I think that’s a big factor in what happened last night.”
“I can’t just sit here and do nothing, Pip… but there’s nothing to do. We’re all looking into this and we can’t find anything. He’s probably watching all of us and laughing as we flounder.”
I shake my head. “So, why are you letting him win? You’re doing all you can do and you know that. You’ve given me a gun to protect myself and you’re still so consumed with fear and anger that you can’t even enjoy the quiet moments like this where it’s just you and me together.”
“I don’t know what else to do,” he admits, his voice cracking and my heart shatters in my chest. Oh, my sweet, sweet husband. I lean down and press my lips to his. His arms wrap around me and he pulls me into his chest as he kisses me like he may never see me again and more tears slip down my face. I have to find a way to help him, a way to allow him to just breathe freely for a little while or he is going to break. An idea forms in my mind and I pull back, flashing him a smile.
“I have the best idea.”
He cracks a little smile as he stares up at me but his eyes still hold an incredible amount of pain. “Why does that look on your face scare the hell out of me?”
“‘Cause you’re silly,” I say, flashing him the biggest smile I can as I jump off his lap and slap his thigh. For me, seeing him smile is the quickest way to cheer me up and I only hope that it is the same for him. “Now, come on, let’s go.”
“Where are we going?”
I turn and grab my hoodie off of the couch, pulling it over my head, before glancing back at him with a grin. “It’s a surprise.”
He shakes his head and reluctantly follows me outside but when I stop next to the Bronco and demand the keys, he crosses his arms over his chest with a laugh.
