by A. M. Myers
“You ready to go, baby?”
He sighs, glancing back at the grave before nodding. “Yeah.”
With a furrowed brow, he sucks in a breath and grabs my hand but before we can turn toward the street, a man steps out from behind a tree about twenty feet away from us and I gasp, stumbling back as my knees buckle but Travis doesn’t let me fall. My whole body trembles and tears sting my eyes as I stare at the man, dressed in black with that damn white mask on his face. Travis looks down at me before following my line of sight and he takes off before I can stop him, running at Warren at full speed, his face contorted with rage.
Shit.
“Lincoln!” I scream, glancing back at the rest of the club and my brother’s head jerks up, scowling at me before he notices Travis chasing Warren back into the trees.
“Fuck,” he hisses, dropping the keys to his bike on the seat as he takes off running toward me. All of the guys turn and without a second thought follow behind him as they chase after Travis and Warren, determination on their faces. Warren cuts to the right and books it back toward me, evading capture, and I stumble back as my heart hammers in my chest. The way he looked at me in the parking lot as Blaze lay dying at my feet pops into my mind and tears sting my eyes.
Is he here for me?
I remember the comment Travis made about Warren taking a liking to me and black dots dance in my vision as I stumble back, running from him, before I trip over something and fall to the ground. He closes in on me, getting closer and closer as my heart beats so fast and so hard, I’m certain it’s going to give out and just when I think it’s over, Tate steps in front of me, her gun drawn and pointing straight at Warren’s chest. He skids to a stop and it gives Travis the valuable seconds he needs to tackle him from behind, taking him down to the ground. In rapid succession, he flips Warren over onto his back, straddles his body, rips his mask off, and begins smashing his fist into his face repeatedly as I watch, bile rising up in my throat.
Glancing over the man’s body, I flash back to the memory of Warren in the parking lot and the way his brown hair fell into his eyes, and I scream as my gaze locks onto the man’s blond locks. “Stop. Travis, stop! It’s not Warren.”
“What?” he snaps, his chest heaving as he gasps for air from the exertion and I point to the man’s hair, forcing Travis to glance down and really take a good look at him for the first time. Groaning, he throws himself off of the man and scrubs his hand down his face as the rest of the guys reach us.
“What’s going on?” Storm growls, striding to the front of the group. Since Blaze’s death, he has really taken on the role of acting President, stepping up and being the rock we all needed, and it makes perfect sense to me why Blaze made him his VP.
“I-I’m sorry…” the guy chokes out, turning on his side and coughing before spitting out a mouthful of blood. “This g-guy just paid me to come h-here and wear the mask. I d-didn’t know… p-please don’t hurt me.”
Lincoln sighs, running his hand through his hair. “Do you know his name? The guy who paid you?”
“W-Warren… he said his name was Warren and he gave me five hundred dollars… s-said it was a practical joke.”
“At a fucking funeral?” Travis snaps, leveling a glare at the man and he lifts his shaking hands in surrender as he shakes his head.
“He didn’t say it was a funeral.” He looks down at the ground and shakes his head again. “I’m so s-sorry. Truly.”
Storm sighs, studying him for a second before nodding to the exit. “Get the fuck out of here before I set my friend loose on you again.”
The man doesn’t need to be told twice, jumping up and scurrying away from us as fast as he can. We all watch him go for a second before Lincoln steps up in front of me and holds his hand out to help me off the ground. When I’m back on my feet, he grabs my arms and holds me steady.
“You okay?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
“Let’s get the fuck out of here before anything else happens,” Storm orders, curling his hand above his head in a signal to roll out and I walk across the grass to Travis as he glances back at Blaze’s grave. As soon as I’m close, he grabs me and pulls me into his arms, releasing a sigh and I know better than to ask him if he’s okay because it’s clear that none of us are and I’m not even sure if we ever will be again. Dropping my head back, I meet his eyes and his brows knit together as pain splashes across his face but before I can say anything, he smashes his lips to mine. His kiss is desperate in a way I’ve never felt before and tears gather in my eyes as he pours his agony into me, clinging to me like I’m the last shred of hope in his battered heart. I want to be that for him. Hell, at this point, I would be anything he needed me to be but he doesn’t know that and I can never tell him.
“Let’s go,” he whispers against my lips before pressing one last quick kiss there. When he pulls back, he throws his arm over my shoulder and we walk down to his bike together and climb on. The engine rumbles to life and I wrap my arms around his waist, laying my head against his back, my mind working in overdrive as he pulls into line behind his brothers.
The last four days have probably been the weirdest four days of my entire life - filled with brief snippets of confusion, fear, pain, and worry but most of the time, I’m just numb. That day in the parking lot doesn’t feel real yet and I keep thinking that I’ll catch Blaze in the hallway or find him getting coffee in the kitchen every morning. No one has even talked about the case or Warren, all of us just too lost in our pain to think about it but it’s clear after the incident at the cemetery that we need to refocus on him and his plan for us.
The wind whips through my hair and as we fly through Baton Rouge, the scene from the parking lot pops into my mind again and tears sting my eyes. By the time the ambulance finally showed up, Blaze was already gone and everything else kind of happened in a blur. I do remember Detective Rodriguez showing up at some point and taking our statements. I gave him the description of Warren but I know it wasn’t helpful. He informed us that another detective had been assigned to the case given his relationship with the club but that he’d be around to help as much as possible. Oh, and apparently, Sergeant Williams is doubling down on her investigation into us, convinced that we had something to do with the deaths of all three girls Warren killed as well as Tawny’s death and Veronica’s kidnapping. It’s ridiculous but as far as I’m concerned, it’s a problem for another day.
Pulling into the driveway of Emma and Nix’s house, the guys line their bikes up along one side before they all jump off and amble inside, everyone lost in their own thoughts. As soon as we get inside, Travis heads straight for the booze, the tortured look on his face hitting me straight in the chest quickly followed by the ache I’m becoming all too familiar with. He snags a bottle of whiskey before walking back into the living room and throwing himself into one of the chairs in the corner. I walk across the space, closing the distance between us, and sit in the chair next to his, eyeing him as he spins the top off of the bottle and raises it to his lips, tipping it back and letting the liquor pour down his throat.
Everyone mills around us, getting drinks of their own as conversation slowly starts to fill the aching silence and Emma pulls out trays of food she prepared for the wake, setting them out on the counter so folks can pick at it when they get hungry. Someone turns on Blaze’s favorite music, classic eighties rock, before turning it down a bit so we can all still talk to each other. With the threat from Warren still looming, it won’t be much of a party but Blaze and our love for him deserves to be acknowledged, even if it isn’t a total rager. Peeking over at Travis again, I sigh. He turns to look at me and holds out the bottle, asking if I want some, and I shake my head. I’m pretty sure he’s drinking enough for the both of us and if tonight is anything like the last four nights, I’ll have to take care of him and make sure he gets up to our bed. I watch him as he presses the bottle to his lips and tips it back again, chugging the liquor inside for a second before pulling it away with a w
ince.
“Hey,” I whisper and he turns to look at me again as I reach out and grab his hand. A ghost of a smile stretches across his face as he looks down at our joined hands before meeting my eyes again. “You know I’m here for you, right?”
He nods, his eyes clear for a brief moment but his smile falls away. “I know, Princess.”
I want to say more, tell him how worried I am about him as he raises the bottle to his lips again but our relationship has become such a balancing act, leaving me frozen on a tightrope because I’m too scared to move. What I want to do is pull him up to our room and confess my love for him, hoping that it’ll be enough to make him feel like he has someone to cling to as everything else rages around us but I’m not some naive little girl who thinks love can fix everything. And I’m certain that telling him the truth would only drive him away. Sighing, I squeeze his hand and turn to watch everyone else as Storm clears his throat and holds his drink in the air.
“To Blaze. He’s the reason this club exists, the reason we have this incredible family, and I know we’ll do whatever we can to honor him every single day we’re on this earth.”
A chorus of cheers rise up around us as everyone else lifts their glasses before taking a sip and I glance over at Travis as he chugs more of the whiskey, my brows knitting together as my stomach churns.
“To Storm,” someone else calls and I glance up as everyone raises their glasses again. Chance takes a step forward. “Our new president. It’s a hell of a job and you’re not taking over under ideal circumstances but we know you’ll kill it.”
Storm holds his hand up, shaking his head. “Hold up. We haven’t even fucking voted yet.”
“Well, let’s do it now then,” Chance says, turning to look at everyone as they nod in agreement. “If you want Storm as our new President, say yay and if you don’t, say nay.”
All of the brothers raise their glasses in the air and shout, “yay!” Storm shakes his head, looking around the room at all of them as Chance walks up to him and hands him something, whispering something only meant for Storm’s ears before he claps his shoulder. Storm stares down at the thing in his hand for a few seconds before looking up and clearing his throat, lifting his glass in another toast. Nix steps forward.
“Well, hell… if y’all are voting now, there’s something I’d like you to take into consideration.”
Storm nods. “What?”
“I, uh… I’ve been thinking a lot over the past four days… about family and legacy and I’d like to join… if y’all will have me,” he answers, wrapping his arm around Emma as she walks over to him and everyone stares at him in shock. One night about a week back, I asked Travis about the relationship between Nix and Blaze because there was some tension and it was impossible to miss. He informed me that they were thick as thieves when Nix was a kid but when Nix didn’t want to join the MC, a rift formed between them and they didn’t speak for years. Emma was actually the one that brought them back together and things were good until all of the stuff about Sarah, Tate’s mom, came out last year and they had been struggling to rebuild their relationship a second time.
“You sure about this?” Storm asks. “You’ve never wanted to be part of the club before.”
Nix nods. “Yeah, I am. Back then, the club was so different than it is now and this legacy, the one y’all have built in the last seven years, feels like something I’d be proud to carry on in my dad’s memory.”
“I suppose you’ll want the president patch,” Storm replies, shooting Nix a wry smile and he laughs, shaking his head as he takes a step back.
“Uh, no. I’ve already got plenty of kids to wrangle. Besides, Pops chose you for his VP, knowing that someday you’d take over for him. That’s the way it should be.”
Storm nods, running his hand through his hair as he looks out at his brothers. “This is highly unusual but let’s fucking vote, I guess. If you want to patch in Nix as a full member, say “yay” and if you don’t, say “nay”.”
“Yay!” Eight voices ring out together, all approving Nix’s entry into the club and people raise their glasses in a toast as Nix thanks them, looking proud as hell to be part of the club his dad built. When I think about all he’s lost in the last four days, he might be the one my heart hurts the most for. To lose your parent is horrendous, a soul-changing experience, but to lose your dad when you weren’t on good terms yet and knowing that you’ll never get a chance to make it right, it has to be so fucking hard. I turn to Travis again but the chair next to me is empty and I sigh as I look up, scanning the room. Finding him in the kitchen, I watch him slip out of the back door with the bottle of whiskey in his hand and sigh again as I stand up and go after him. Thankfully, no one stops me to talk as I work through the crowd and when I step outside, I cross my arms over my chest to ward off the chill that seems to settle into my bones.
Travis walks over to the chairs under the big oak tree in the middle of the yard before I take off after him, trying to think of something I could say to get him to open up to me. There is this distance between us right now that kills me and as much as I want to help him, I also miss him like fucking crazy. I want my Travis back. He hears me approaching and looks up, warmth in his gaze for just a second before it’s snuffed out by pain and he sighs, shaking his head as he takes another gulp of alcohol.
“Just go back inside, Rowan,” he slurs, his eyes glassy and I shake my head as I stop in front of him, step between his legs, and run my fingers through his hair.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
He sighs. “You shouldn’t be out here.”
“Neither should you,” I argue and he sighs again before grabbing my hand and pulling me down onto his lap. He wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me closer as he takes another sip of whiskey and I lay my head on his shoulder, looking out at the water with a sigh.
“Will you please talk to me?”
He shrugs. “What is there to say?”
“Come on,” I snap as I sit up and meet his eyes. “Don’t fucking give me that. You’re going through hell and everyone can see it so please talk to me.”
“What the fuck do you want me to tell you, Rowan? That it’s my fault Blaze is dead? That I should have done more to help him instead of just staring at him as he fucking died in front of me? That I’m motherfucking cursed?”
My brow furrows and my heart breaks. “What do you mean you’re cursed?”
“Just drop it,” he growls, lifting the bottle to his lips again but I yank it away before he can spill another drop of liquor down his throat. His lip curls back as his gaze snaps to mine and he reaches for the bottle again. “Give that to me.”
“No. What do you mean you’re cursed?”
His eyes meet mine, fierce and determined as I glare down at him, demanding an answer to my question but he refuses to give in. But I won’t either. Not when I know how much he needs me and he can get as angry as he fucking wants, he’s not going to drive me away, now or ever. He holds my glare and reaches for the bottle again but I keep it away from his grasp as I arch a brow, silently telling him to start talking but before he can, a scream rips through the air. It came from the direction of the house and we both jerk up, looking up at the back door. My heart jumps into my throat as possibilities run through my mind, possibilities of what fresh hell Warren has gifted us with for a second time today as Travis jumps up and sets me on my feet.
He glances back at me, grabs my hand and nods, letting me know that we’re going to run before he takes off toward the house, dragging me along behind him. My mind spins with horrid thoughts that I desperately wish I could push from my brain and my heart pounds against my ribs, a mixture of fear and exertion, as we reach the house. Travis rips the back door open and we step inside as every head snaps up to look at us.
“What is it?” Storm asks a sobbing Emma and she drops a card on the counter, her hands shaking, and that same haunted look in her eyes I saw on the day Blaze died. Lowering my gaze, I suck in a breath whe
n I see the sympathy card sitting on the counter with a photo of all of us that day, surrounding Blaze as he slipped away and tears sting my eyes.
“What did it say, Em?” Moose asks and she shakes her head, gasping for air as she turns into her husband’s chest and he wraps his arms around her. I turn back to Storm as he drops the card back down on the counter and clenches his fists, looking up at all of us.
“Two down, three to go.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Rowan
“Morning, Princess,” Travis says as he steps out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist and I open my eyes, yawning as they burn and my head throbs relentlessly. I managed to catch about two hours of sleep last night but I spent most of it tossing and turning, tormented by horrific images every time I closed my eyes. And when I wasn’t reliving Blaze’s death or seeing Warren’s face in my mind, I was making myself sick with worry over the man standing in front of me. “Sleep okay?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Baby,” he sighs, his brows knitting together as he studies me for a second before sighing and pulling the towel away from his waist. He crawls back into bed and pulls me into his side, wrapping his arms around me as he kisses my forehead. His hand cradles the back of my head, massaging his fingers into my scalp as he takes a deep breath, breathing me in before he kisses my forehead again. “Go back to sleep, okay? I’ve got you.”
