by Devney Perry
Except every now and then, I’d catch her staring at me. Watching. When I’d meet her gaze, hers would be full of pity.
I fucking hated pity.
Those pitiful glances had started after Thanksgiving. If I had to guess, Mom or Piper had said too much. Had they told her about the accident? Had they told her about Shannon?
As pissed as I was that they’d talk to Genevieve about family business, I couldn’t exactly blame them. No doubt they thought she already knew.
Bringing it up with Genevieve wasn’t an option. If they hadn’t told her, it would only lead to more questions. I was sick to death of the questions. Of the secrets. Of the lies.
Of the pity.
All the reasons we’d done this in the first place be damned. Living this way was eating me alive. And keeping her tied to a man like me wasn’t fair to Genevieve. She deserved more.
It was time to let her go. It was time to break this off. I’d deal with the consequences.
It was time to plan an exit strategy.
“What now?” Emmett asked.
“Nothing.” Bryce huffed. “We have nothing. No leads. No information to go on. Whoever kidnapped us has disappeared. Whoever Amina was dating, that Lee guy, he’s gone. And it pisses me off.”
Dash put his hand on her knee as it bounced. “We always knew this could happen.”
“That’s not good enough, Dash.” She stood from the chair and paced the room. “What happens when this guy decides it’s your turn next? Or Emmett’s? Or Leo’s? We’re helpless. He’s out there, watching as his master plan unfolds. Draven will go to prison. And the rest of us will look over our shoulders for the rest of our lives. We can’t live like that.”
Her chin quivered, her arms cinching tighter around her ribs. Dash was out of his chair in a flash, pulling her into his arms as her forehead dropped to his shoulder.
“She’s right.” Leo blew out a deep breath. “Draven goes to prison and this guy wins. And if this really is about some old war with the Gypsies, we’re all next.”
Even I wasn’t safe. I’d never been a Tin Gypsy, but I’d been on that mountain too. “What can we do?”
“We’ve tried everything. Every damn thing.” Emmett ran a hand over his hair.
“I think we need to push harder to find Amina’s boyfriend.” Bryce stepped away from Dash, sniffling. She wasn’t a crier so seeing her like this was odd. Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones, but she was cracking.
“The boyfriend’s a ghost,” Emmett said. “A dead end.”
“But he’s all there is,” Bryce insisted. “He’s the only person in Amina’s life we haven’t tracked down. And doesn’t that seem suspicious? She’d been seeing this guy and she dies, then he just disappears?”
“Maybe they broke up before she died.” Amina had hooked up with Draven in that motel. For Genevieve’s sake, I hoped Amina hadn’t cheated. Again. “That would explain why he never showed up. Maybe she’d already called it off, so she was free to hook up with Draven.”
Bryce nodded. “Maybe. But we won’t know anything until we find him.”
“How, babe?” Dash plopped back down in his chair. “All we have is a first name. Lee is not exactly unique.”
“And Genevieve has racked her brain,” I said. “She can’t think of anything else.”
“What about Amina’s things?” Bryce asked. “Did Genevieve find anything in them that might have been Lee’s?”
“No. Nothing.”
“Damn it,” she muttered.
A car door slammed outside, drawing our attention. Genevieve stomped from her car to the stairs. The look on her face was blank, her eyes turned down to the shoveled cement.
“Be right back.” I hurried to the door, just in time to stop Genevieve before she’d gotten past the fifth step. “Hey. You didn’t text me to come get you.”
“No, I didn’t,” she snapped. “For once, I wanted to drive myself home.”
“You heard about the trial.”
“Yep.”
“What did Jim say?”
She sighed. “The prosecution has a strong argument and things aren’t looking good. They had three officers present. The witness who saw Draven come and leave from the motel. A fingerprint expert for the knife. A crime lab tech for the DNA and blood. It’s done, so I decided to take the rest of the day off.”
“You okay?”
“Fantastic,” she deadpanned. “Draven will go to prison for murdering my mother. Life’s grand.”
“We’re just talking about it.” I tossed my thumb over my shoulder to the office. “Come on in.”
“No, thanks.”
“Please? You’re not the only one who’s upset.”
“Fine.” She grumbled something else under her breath before sulking down the stairs. She gave me that goddamn pitiful look as I opened the door for her, waving her in and out of the cold.
“I’m sorry, Genevieve.” Bryce stood to give her friend a hug.
“Me too.” Genevieve unwrapped the scarf around her neck and took a chair next to Emmett.
“We were just talking about what we could do,” I told her as I sat by her side in the last open chair.
“Nothing.” She shook her head, digging in her purse for her notebook. “There’s nothing to do. I’ve been over and over things. I’ve researched every single person who could have been involved and there’s nothing to find.”
“You’ve been what?” Dash asked, sharing a look with Bryce.
“Researching.” Genevieve waved the notebook. “Criminal records. Background checks. Personal information. I’ve looked into all the known associates of the Tin Gypsy Motorcycle Club, you included, and whoever I could find linked to the Warriors.”
The room went silent.
I blinked, my eyes glued to that notebook. Was my name in there? Was that how she knew about me? Had she known all along?
My pulse raced with a mixture of fear and anger that she’d kept this from me. When had she been doing this?
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Bryce asked.
“Because.” Her shoulders fell. “There’s nothing, so what does it matter?”
Emmett held out his hand. “Mind if I take a look?”
She clung to her notebook for a second, then sighed and handed it over.
He flipped through the pages quickly, nodding as he went. “I’m impressed. You’ve got nearly everyone in here. Us included.”
Genevieve took the notebook back and looked at Bryce. “Except you. And Isaiah.”
The air rushed from my lungs. So she hadn’t dug into my past. She’d respected my privacy even though she wanted to know so badly. She’d waited, giving me time, and hoping I’d open up.
Damn.
“You went behind our backs,” Dash said.
Genevieve held up her chin. “Yes, I did. Because I didn’t know you.”
Dash shot her a glare and opened his mouth, but Bryce spoke over him. “I think it was smart. I would have done the same thing. I just wish you had found something.”
“Me too,” Genevieve muttered.
“I still feel like your mom’s boyfriend might lead us to a clue.”
Genevieve nodded. “So do I. Mom was always so vague about him. She always brushed him off as casual, which would make sense if he was a Warrior. She wouldn’t want to pull me into that.”
And clearly Amina had a thing for bikers.
“Did you find any mention of a guy named Lee?” Emmett asked. “Because I’ve done my own research and can’t find a damn thing.”
“Nothing.” Genevieve ran her thumb along the notebook. “Maybe some of you can look through the names. None of the Warriors I found are named Lee, but maybe I missed someone.”
“I’ll do it.” Emmett nodded.
“When you went through her stuff, you didn’t see anything that might have been his, did you?” Bryce asked.
Genevieve shook her head. “Nothing jumped out at me. I could go through it all again. Just to double-c
heck.”
“Do it,” Dash ordered, the frown still on his face. “What about her stuff? Was there anything missing?”
“I didn’t exactly take an inventory of my dead mother’s things.”
“Then do it now,” Dash barked.
I took a step forward, ready to step in, but Genevieve noticed and held out a hand, stopping me.
“Why?” she asked Dash.
“Because maybe he took something of hers. Jewelry or a trinket, or I don’t know. Something valuable. If he pawned it in town or even in Bozeman, we might be able to track it down.”
“Oh,” she muttered. “Okay.”
“Any word from the Warriors?” Leo asked.
“Not a word,” Dash answered. “Which normally would be a good thing, but my gut says we’ll be hearing from Tucker before too long.”
“You don’t think he believed us?” Genevieve asked.
“I think his hands are tied too. He wants to know who killed his man. That’s the same guy we’re looking for. We’re not stopping. Neither will he.”
Fuck. Would this ever go away?
At least twice a week I woke from that damned repeat nightmare. Genevieve was in her car in the passenger seat. The grill of a truck was smashed against the broken glass of her window. Her eyes were lifeless and blood oozed from her mouth.
Would that be her fate? Would she die too if she stayed here? Enough was enough. It was time to free her from this shit and let her get on with her life.
The best place for Genevieve was far, far away from me. She wouldn’t leave willingly, not until she knew I was out of danger. Maybe if we found the man who killed her mother, we’d be able to convince the Warriors he’d also killed their man. Then she’d be safe to leave too.
I’d help her go through her mother’s things and pray we found a clue.
“Do you think it’s worth me digging through Amina’s finances again?” Emmett asked Dash.
“Again?” Genevieve asked before Dash could answer. “Do I even want to know how you can do that?”
“Probably not.” Emmett shrugged. “I didn’t find anything the first time. Might be worth a second look.”
Genevieve stood from her chair, taking her scarf and purse. “I’ll let you guys know if I find anything.”
She was out the door before anyone could respond. There was a sheen of tears in her eyes.
“Do you need me the rest of the day?” I asked Dash. “The job board is clear. I was just cleaning up.”
“Nah, go ahead. It’s dead. I’ll finish up.”
“Thanks.” I went back into the shop, unzipping my coveralls and stripping them down to hang on a hook for tomorrow. Then I went to the sink and scrubbed my hands, doing my best to get the grease off.
My cuticles were cracked, the tips of my fingers raw. They were normally rough but the air this time of year was so dry, I took extra care. Presley had put a bottle of lotion next to the sink for us to use and I slathered some on, dug my ring from my pocket and slid it on, then ventured upstairs to the apartment.
Genevieve was on the couch when I walked into the apartment. Her knees were pulled up to her chest. Her arms were wrapped around them, hugging them tight.
“You okay?”
“Fine.”
She wouldn’t be fine until this was over.
I kicked off my boots, stacking them on the mat so the snow wouldn’t follow me into the apartment. Then I crossed the room, taking a seat on the couch beside her, one cushion away.
“Why didn’t you tell me about your research?”
She lifted a shoulder. “Because there wasn’t anything to tell. And it was something I could do on my own. I just needed . . . I needed to try.”
It made sense now why she’d been so frustrated. She’d been searching for clues and coming up empty at every turn.
“I’ve been thinking about something.” I ran a hand over my jaw, loosening it. I’d been thinking about this for weeks, but the words were like molasses.
“What?”
“As soon as the trial is over, once we know what will happen with Draven . . .” I blew out a deep breath. “I think you should go.”
“Go?” She blinked. “Go where?”
“Away. Get out of this town. Get out of this life.”
“What?” She let go of her legs and turned to face me. “What about you?”
“I’ll be fine.” And if I wasn’t, it wouldn’t be her problem anymore. “The cops didn’t find anything. I doubt they will. They probably aren’t even looking.”
“And the Warriors?”
“If they decide to retaliate, it would be best if you were already long gone.”
Her mouth fell open. “So . . . we just call it quits?”
“Yeah.”
She stared at me for a long moment. The surprise on her face faded. Her shoulders fell. “Am I that hard to be around?”
“The truth?” I swallowed hard. “Yes.”
She flinched.
It was unbearable to be around her, knowing she’d eventually leave. It was exhausting to keep her at arm’s length when all I wanted to do was hold her close.
“We never should have started this,” I whispered.
Genevieve pushed off the couch and marched for the bathroom. The door slammed, its boom shaking the walls.
I dropped my head to the back of the couch. Done. It’s done.
And I was a bastard for hurting her.
There was a small spot on the ceiling Genevieve had missed when painting. It was no bigger than a dime, but the off-white of the old paint showed if you caught it from this angle. She’d fix it if she knew, but I wouldn’t say a word. I wanted that spot to remember the months we’d spent together.
Genevieve might be upset now, but she’d see this was the right call. Eventually, she’d be relieved that my shackle was no longer around her ankle.
The bathroom door whipped open and the wounded Genevieve who’d been on the couch had disappeared. She pounded across the apartment in her bare feet, stopping right in front of me. “What’s the real reason you’re doing this?”
“It’ll be better if we end this now.”
“I don’t believe you.” She held her chin high. “I have opened up my heart to you. I’ve told you everything about my mom. About how I’m really feeling. I laid it all out there. I cut myself open and let you see the ugly mess inside. You’re the one person in the world who gets the real me. Why can’t I have that from you?”
I stared up at her beautiful, flushed face and stayed quiet. Silence was my armor. Because if I cut myself open, I’d never be able to sew the wounds shut.
“That’s it?” she whispered. “Isaiah, I want to help. I want to be there for you like you are for me. But you have to talk about the accident. If not with me, then someone. I see this guilt. This pain in your eyes and it kills—”
“Who told you about the accident? Or did you look it up?”
She blinked. Her face paled.
“Did you?” I demanded, louder this time.
“No. I didn’t look it up. I-I was—”
I was off the couch in a flash, my heart pounding. The movement forced her to take two steps back. “Someone told you. Who? Was it Mom? Because she had no right.”
“She didn’t tell me anything.” Genevieve held up her hands. “I overheard her and Piper at Thanksgiving. I shouldn’t have eavesdr—”
“No, you shouldn’t have. That’s none of your fucking business. That’s between me and my family.”
“Then don’t take me to meet your family,” she yelled. “Don’t blame them for assuming you’d tell your wife about your fiancée. That you were going to have a baby. That she died in an accident and you’re blaming yourself.”
She had it all wrong. She saw me as a tragedy. No, I was a killer. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Exactly!” She threw her hands into the air. “I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m talking about because you—” She poked a f
inger in my chest hard enough to leave a red mark. “You don’t tell me anything.”
I clamped my mouth shut.
Her nostrils flared as she did the same.
We stood there in a soundless standoff. If she was expecting me to talk, she had to know I wouldn’t—couldn’t.
Finally, her fuming breaths slowed. Her furious gaze chilled. “You’re right. What am I doing here? It doesn’t even matter. I was wrong about the law.”
“What? Say that again.”
“The law. I was wrong. Montana doesn’t have testimonial privilege like I assumed, which means this marriage was doomed from the start.”
My head was spinning. Was she saying that we didn’t have to get married? That it wouldn’t protect us? How long had she known?
Why had she stayed?
“Slow down, I—”
“So you’re right.” Genevieve huffed. “We’re strangers. I call you my husband. You call me your wife. But we’re strangers. Hell, you even cringe when I kiss you.”
This woman was making no sense. I didn’t cringe when I kissed her. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about this.” She took my face in her hands, pulling me down for a kiss.
The softness of her lips, her subtle taste—I tensed.
I always tensed.
It was the only way to hold myself back.
She let me go and pointed at my face. “There. That. You look like you’re about ready to crawl out of your skin because I kissed you. And you know what? I hate you for it. I hate you for it. Because I look forward to every single one of those pretend kisses even though you look like—”
I crushed her lips to mine. I wound my arms around her back and hauled her to my chest. I ran my tongue across her bottom lip. I moaned into her mouth as she let me dip inside for a taste. I kissed her the way I’d wanted to kiss her for months.
Genevieve had the power to destroy me completely. My life would be in ruins when she walked away. This kiss wouldn’t change the future.
I shoved those thoughts away.
And I kissed my wife.
Chapter Seventeen
Genevieve
