Conrad (Savage Kings MC - South Carolina Book Series 4)

by Lane Hart

  Hannah might be upset with me, but I don’t think she’ll run. Like she said before, where would she go without any money?

  I think she only wore the cuffs the last few days because she knew I liked them.

  How insane is that?

  We drive the first four hours in silence, other than the songs playing on the radio, Hannah insisting on sitting in the back seat rather than in the passenger seat. She leans her head on the window, staring out sadly like she’s watching her life go by.

  After a quick stop for lunch and a bathroom break, the last two hours on familiar South Carolina highways is a breeze.

  In fact, we’re in Myrtle Beach before I know it or before I’m ready for our five-day road trip to come to an end.

  I park in the lot of the rehab facility, and before I can unfasten my seat belt, Hannah’s already opening her door. I hurry out because I wouldn’t be surprised if she tried to bolt now that we’re finally here. Instead, she starts walking to the door, her bag on her shoulder.

  “I’m going in. I don’t need an escort,” she says.

  “I need to make sure you get checked in okay,” I tell her when really, I’m just not ready to leave her yet.

  “Right,” she huffs when I jump in front of her to open the door for her to go through it first.

  It turns out that would be the last word she would say to me because once I told the man at the front desk her name, he buzzed her back through the locked door.

  “Good luck,” I say as she slips through it without giving me a second glance.

  The door slams shut which is when I realize that my job is finally done.

  And it fucking sucks.

  I’ve been looking forward to this moment of being rid of the responsibility of Hannah since before I even met her. Now that it’s here, I’m…already missing her.

  But caring about Hannah was not supposed to be part of my plan. I fucked up and have to let her go.

  Pulling out my phone, I shoot a quick text to the chief to let him know she’s checked in, and then all that’s left to do is hold my breath and hope Hannah doesn’t tell him about us.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Hannah

  * * *

  Over the past few days of individual and group therapy, I’ve been able to admit to myself and others that I was completely powerless to the hold alcohol had on me, which is why I’m here working on trying to overcome the reason I became so dependent on it in the first place.

  I’m starting to see how awful I’ve been behaving, and I do want to change.

  Now, if there was just some sort of magic wand my therapist Barbara or one of the other counselors could wave to get rid of the hold Conrad still has on my heart, that would be awesome because there is no amount of talking it out that will help me get over him.

  I still crave him, more than I ever craved a drink or the numbness alcohol provided.

  At least that’s how it feels right now, less than a week after being away from him.

  But it’s stupid and silly to think that there was some sort of mutual feelings between us when it was obviously just a sexual attraction.

  Nothing else.

  Right?

  “Did you hear my question, Hannah?” Barbara asks from the chair across from mine during our one-on-one session. I have no clue what she asked.

  “Ah, could you repeat that?”

  “How have you been feeling today? Are you having any withdrawal symptoms?”

  “Oh, well, I’m still having some headaches and the nausea comes and goes.”

  “Those are perfectly normal. Just let us know if they become unbearable.”

  “I will,” I agree.

  “And how strong are your cravings for alcohol now that you’ve been sober for, what has it been, nine days?”

  “Oh, um, the cravings for alcohol are getting better, I think.”

  “That’s great.”

  “It’s just…is it possible to go from craving one thing to another?” I ask.

  “Could you give me a little more information about this other craving?” Barbara questions with a tilt of her head.

  “Well, there was this man I met recently. He’s the one who brought me here and helped me get sober for the first time in…a long time.”

  “You care for him?” she asks. “I think I’ve made it clear how risky new relationships can be before you have established long-term sobriety.”

  “I know,” I tell her. “I remember. But trying to stop thinking about him is like a constant ache in my head, even worse than wanting a drink.”

  “It’s not uncommon for addicts to replace one addiction for another. So, couldn’t it be possible that when you were forced to give up alcohol you sought comfort in something new, like wanting to feel the euphoria of the honeymoon phase of a potential relationship? Or that you were just looking for a distraction to get your mind off of the craving for alcohol?”

  “I guess, yeah. That…that makes sense,” I agree. “It wasn’t real, was it?”

  “Well, I have no way of knowing that. Only you can answer that question,” Barbara says. “But I must reiterate that starting a new relationship during the first year of recovery could be a hindrance that will set you back.”

  “Right,” I say with a sigh. “You’re probably right about him being a distraction, then and now.”

  “Instead of focusing on him, whoever he is, try and turn your thoughts to yourself, what you want to do once you complete the program, the decisions you’ll make to stay sober and live a happier, healthier life.”

  “Yeah, okay,” I agree, even though I don’t think it will be as easy as she makes it out to be.

  There’s no on and off switch to make me stop thinking about Conrad. But it would be easier if there was one.

  Conrad

  * * *

  For the entire week after leaving Hannah, I spend almost every waking moment and plenty of unconscious moments thinking about her, missing her, and wondering how she’s doing – if she’s sticking to the rehab program or if she up and left after the first day.

  I’ve also been waiting for the other shoe to drop, looking for the chief to show up at the Harley dealership or my house to put a bullet in me. Or worse, to get a call from my parents or the Kings about the videos he sent them.

  At least I was worried about that, until Cannon tosses a small, white square envelope on my desk in the office we share at the dealership.

  “What’s this?” I glance up to ask him.

  “I dunno. There’s no sender on it, but it’s addressed to you,” my brother explains.

  Who is sending me something here? Hannah?

  “Oh. Thanks,” I stare at the envelope but won’t open it until Cannon leaves in case it is from Hannah.

  “Everything okay? You’ve been off since you got back to town last week,” he remarks.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t look fine. You look…sulky.”

  “I’m fine!” I exclaim.

  “Jeez. Okay,” he huffs before he finally leaves the office.

  As soon as the office door shuts, I grab the envelope and rip into it. Inside is a…thank-you card? The words “Thank You” are written on the front in a metallic silver. Inside, there’s a short, handwritten note from the police chief saying he appreciates my help with his “difficult matter.”

  Is he fucking kidding?

  At first, I think it must be a joke. A thank-you note before he kills me. But after reading it several times in a row, I become more certain that there’s no underlying message to the card. And I don’t know which part is more infuriating, that the asshole is thanking me for doing something he blackmailed me to do or that he refers to his daughter as a “difficult matter.”

  I decide both are pretty fucked-up.

  But most of all, the card means that Hannah didn’t tell him about us.

  She hates him too much to even talk to him to hurt me.

  So why did she threaten me?

 
The only reason I can come up with is that she just wanted to be with me so badly and knew I was going to walk away from her.

  I know rehab was the right place for her now and until she recovers from her addiction, but she won’t have to be there forever.

  Maybe I fucked up.

  All this time I thought Hannah needed to grow up before she would be ready for the commitment of a relationship when I was being a pussy, refusing to stand up to her father and just tell him that I care about her.

  Hell, he may not even care if we’re together if I promise to keep her out of trouble and out of his hair while he runs his campaign for mayor.

  But if I’m wrong, then I could lose my family and the MC when they see those videos.

  The only person who may possibly understand and accept my explanation is my brother. He may be foolish and irresponsible, but we’ve been together our entire lives. He knows me better than anyone, and I think he would vouch for me that I wouldn’t ever hurt a woman against her will.

  If Cannon can understand, then it’s possible that everyone else would too, so I could be with Hannah.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Hannah

  * * *

  “Your father wants to come see you,” my mom tells me as we sit outside in the sun during our Sunday visitation.

  “No,” I reply without needing to consider it.

  “He’s been worried about you.”

  “He’s only worried about himself and his campaign,” I huff, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “How did you…”

  “Conrad told me,” I explain. Just speaking his name makes me ache all over because I miss him so much.

  “And Conrad is…” my mother asks.

  “The guy who drove me home all the way from San Francisco.”

  “Well, that was nice of him,” she says primly while fussing over the invisible wrinkles in her dress.

  “He did it because Daddy blackmailed him into it!” I exclaim, causing some of the other patients and visitors to stare at us.

  “I’m sure that’s not true. It was probably just a favor,” she replies. I think she actually believes that too because she is so fucking clueless. Why can’t she see my father for the bastard he is? Even after what he did to me when I was sixteen, she took his side. Which really fucking hurts.

  I wish there was just one person on my side for once.

  “I think you should go,” I tell my mother.

  “But visitation isn’t over for a few more hours.”

  “I’d rather be alone,” I say honestly.

  Standing up from her chair, she sighs and hefts her purse onto her shoulder. “I wish you could learn to let go of some of that hate in your heart.”

  “I wish I could too,” I mutter. But I know that’s impossible.

  Conrad

  * * *

  “I’m headed out,” Cannon says when he strolls through the living room on the way out for the night in his leather cut and jeans while I’m in sweats on the sofa, searching channel after channel with the remote looking for something to watch. But of course, I’m distracted thinking about the remote in a completely different way… “I may be back with some people tonight or I may not be home until the morning,” my brother adds.

  “Yeah, I know the drill,” I reply. “Got plenty of rubbers on you?”

  “Always,” he says with a pat to his back pocket where he keeps his wallet. “See ya.”

  “Wait a second.” Before he leaves, I jump up from the sofa, figuring it’s now or never. It will be better to talk about this now since he’s leaving in case he is disgusted. “Can we talk real fast?”

  “Talk about what?” Cannon asks. “Mom okay? Did Dad call?”

  “No, it’s not that. Mom’s fine. I talked to her this morning,” I tell him. “It’s something about me.”

  “Okay. What about you?” he replies since he knows everything there is already, or at least he thinks he does.

  “Do you remember Nicole?”

  “Yeah, the only girl you’ve dated in years. Why? What about her?”

  “We did things together that some people may not approve of.”

  “Like what?”

  “I’d tie her to the bed and fuck her,” I admit.

  Cannon’s eyes widen in shock, but he recovers quicker than I anticipated. “Okay then. To each their own.”

  “There would sometimes be gags and paddles involved too.”

  “Wow. That’s…” Cannon clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck while staring at the ground like he’s embarrassed for me.

  “She had these really intense orgasms and would cry during them.”

  “Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “I really don’t need to know all of this, Con-man!”

  “I know you don’t need to know it, but if you were to see a video of all of that going on, it would look really bad, right?”

  “I don’t want to see that video, like ever.”

  “And I don’t want you to see that video ever,” I assure him. “But if someone put it out in the world, you would know I’m telling the truth about it, right?”

  “It was consensual?” Cannon asks in concern.

  “Yes. Absolutely. You could talk to Nicole and she will tell you it was.”

  “Okay then. That’s all that matters.”

  “Would our parents say the same thing, though? Or the Kings?”

  At that, Cannon winces. “Fuck. I don’t know. I don’t want to think about Mom and Dad seeing a sex tape. And Verek, well, that may mess him up because of what happened to Tessa.”

  “I fucking know that!” I tell him. “This was before. Way before. A year or more ago.”

  My twin rubs the back of his neck again as he thinks silently for several long minutes. “Why are you telling me all this shit now if it was a year or more ago?”

  “Because someone has the videos.”

  “Who?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” I say, not wanting Cannon to flip out on the chief and blow this up even more.

  “Someone’s blackmailing you, aren’t they?” he says in understanding.

  “Basically, yeah.”

  “Then we need to kick their ass,” he says, rolling up his pretend sleeves on each of his bare arms.

  “That’s not why I’m telling you. I don’t want revenge. At least not the way you may want it. I just needed to get it off my chest and see if you would understand or not.”

  “Look,” Cannon starts. “No one wants the shit they do in the bedroom to go public. But I know you, and even in the worst-case scenario, I don’t think anyone who does would think you like hurting women.”

  Now it’s my turn to cringe.

  Cannon’s tan face goes a little pale. “Oh fuck. You like hurting women?”

  “Only if they like it too, though, I swear!”

  “And you’re ‘enjoying it’ on the video?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then maybe it’s best if that shit doesn’t come out, you know?”

  “I know,” I agree with a disappointed sigh.

  No matter how much I wish I could be with Hannah, it can’t happen if it means hurting everyone around me when those videos are put out by the police chief. My parents don’t need the stress, and I don’t want to put Cannon in the middle when it comes to them or the MC.

  So no matter how much I want to see Hannah or talk to her, I won’t.

  At least not after I apologize to her and make sure she’s doing okay at rehab. But after that, I’ll stay out of her life and go back to mine.

  Or at least I’ll try…

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Conrad

  * * *

  Unfortunately, seeing Hannah one last time proves more difficult than I expected.

  Because I’m not on her approved guest list, the front desk won’t let me in to see her. And before they’ll even ask her if she wants to see me, her therapist comes out to talk to me.

  “Hi, I’m Barbara, Hannah’s therapist
. And you are?” the small woman with short raven-colored hair standing at no more than five feet tall asks me when she holds out her palm for me to shake.

  “Conrad.”

  “Nice to meet you, Conrad. And how do you know Hannah?”

  “Ah, I’m her friend.”

  “Just her friend?” she asks with an arched eyebrow.

  “Fine, it’s a little more than that…”

  “That’s what I thought. Hannah’s mentioned a man, and I’m assuming it’s you she’s been talking about.”

  “She talks about me?” I say in surprise. “What did she say?”

  “I can’t tell you that, but I will tell you what I told Hannah,” she starts. “Right now, during the first year of her recovery, she needs to put herself first. I don’t recommend that she start any new relationships during that time.”

  “A year?” I repeat in disbelief. “You don’t think I should see her for a year?”

  “That’s right. I’m sorry, but new relationships are fragile, and so is she. I’m afraid a breakup or even just the ups and downs of a new relationship could set her back and lead to more self-destructive behavior.”

  God knows her behavior was definitely self-destructive.

  “I would never do anything to hurt her,” I tell her. “I could help her stay sober. I don’t drink. I could be good for her.”

  She’s shaking her head before I finish speaking. “It’s not a good idea, and I won’t approve it.”

  “What if we were to just be friends?” I ask because I want to see her and apologize. We could be friends and her father wouldn’t care, I don’t think.

  “Have the two of you had sex?”

  I blink at the blunt question.

  “Well?”

  “Ah, yeah, we have. That’s confidential, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it’s confidential, but that’s the reason why I have trouble believing the two of you could have a platonic relationship since you’ve already crossed that line.”