by Romi Hart
She bit her lip, not quite sure. She didn’t exactly know where Rory lived and couldn’t be sure if she’d find the woman at the gym or not. But she took her chances and told him, “I want to head over to the gym and see if my yoga instructor is there.”
Mike smirked. “If you’re talking about Rory, she’s hardly ever anywhere else but home or the clubhouse. I’ll follow you.”
Relieved that she’d likely run into the pregnant woman, she gave Mike a gratuitous smile for not only helping her out but also not asking questions. He knew his place and his business, it seemed, and he wasn’t going to stick his nose where it didn’t belong.
Rory wasn’t in the studio, but she was in the building, and the woman up front paged her. The energetic woman greeted Regan with a huge smile, waddling up for a hug. “You look worse for the wear,” Rory pointed out, then winced. “Sorry, I usually have more couth, even when I’m being up front and honest. My hormones are running wild and affecting my speech pattern.”
“No, you’re right on target,” Regan sighed. “Do you have a class coming up, or do you have some time?”
“No, come on. I could use a break. I’ve been calling some people about rescheduling them in other classes after I have the babies. The doctor says I can’t teach for at least four weeks, and that’s too long to ask all my students to wait for me. Let’s get a smoothie. I’m actually pretty hungry.”
They walked next door and ordered drinks, and then they took a table in the corner. It wasn’t busy, most crowds headed through drive thrus or into restaurants for the dinner rush, so there was relative quiet. It had a nice, cheerful atmosphere, too, so it helped keep Regan from feeling like she was talking about such a dark, dreaded topic.
“I already know why you’re coming to me,” Rory started before Regan could even address the topic. “I know they rode out today.”
Of course she did. And Rory was one of those people who was so intuitive it could be uncomfortable. Trying to ease that awkward feeling for herself, Regan hedged, “I bet it was difficult for Eli to leave with you on the verge of labor.”
She waved her hand in the air. “Eli didn’t go. Corey told him he wasn’t going out of town till after I had the babies. I get that. I mean, I know my husband. He would have been so distracted he could have been in the line of fire and still calling me to make sure I was okay.”
Wow, Regan knew Corey took his job seriously and cared for the men under his leadership, but she hadn’t taken into consideration his determination to keep them safe. He was definitely looking out for Rory and the twins, as if she was his sister, but this was also his way of keeping Eli from getting distracted and making a mistake that got him killed. Or one of the other members of the club, for that matter.
But that also meant there was possibly no information to gain here. “So, you don’t know where they went.”
Rory pursed her lips. “No, I don’t know where they went. But I do have an idea of what they’re doing, and that’s getting rid of the sleezy son of a bitch they’ve been after for months. He just keeps slithering right out from under them.” She shook her head. “This time, they’re going about it some other way, though. Eli is home, pacing the floor. He was told to stay away from the clubhouse. That’s why I’m here. Even I can’t ground and center that kind of energy.”
Regan nodded. “So, this is one of those truly dangerous missions.”
Rory gripped her hands with a reassuring smile. “Less so with you around. You know, these boys were a bunch of ragtag men with little purpose. Which is adorable and attractive. They had good sense, and they were reliable and responsible and mature. But they weren’t the kind to think about the future. Now that several of them have settled down, they have something to come home to and a reason to be safer. They don’t just run out into the night to accomplish something. They actually consider the consequences.”
That may be true, but it didn’t sit well with Regan, making her stomach churn. “What if I can’t be that? What if I can’t be the reason Corey comes home?”
Tilting her head in concern, Rory asked, “Why couldn’t you? He’s already changed his patterns, acted different. He’s more careful, considerate of others, and less of a workaholic. I was starting to worry that he was married to his job and was going to put himself into an early grave. But in the past couple of weeks, his aura is lighter, less burdened. So, what’s getting in the way?”
Gazing down at her hands and working past the feelings of hopelessness and guilt that David was so good at instilling, Regan murmured, “Something happened last night that might have changed the course of my life.”
“Oh, really?” The all business tone of Rory’s voice had Regan’s head popping up to look at her.
With a sigh, Regan told her, “I’m a firm believer in fate. There’s a reason for everything, and I feel like fate grabbed hold again last night, when I thought I’d beat the odds. And now, I have to pay the price for misinterpreting the circumstances and thinking that, perhaps, Corey was my destiny.”
“Care to explain?” Rory’s inquisitive gaze wasn’t prodding, but it was probing, as if looking for something on the surface that would give her a clue as to what Regan meant.
Running her hands through her hair in a habit she seemed to have picked up from Corey, Regan winced, the strands pulling at the bruised skin on her face. “I’m sure you’ve seen the bruises on my face and were politely ignoring them.”
Clearing her throat and shrugging, Rory told her, “I had observed them. But I didn’t think it was my business to ask.”
Another reason she appreciated Rory. The woman was the epitome of discretion. “My ex husband showed up and decided a couple of marks might remind me of how much he loved me and that we were meant to be together. I would have been worse if Corey hadn’t shown up when he did and kicked David out.”
Regan had never seen Rory angry, but her expression hardened, and her eyes blazed. “I’m sure he would have done a lot worse, if you’d let him. Hell, I would have gotten a kitchen knife and stabbed him.” She shook her head. “Why is he even out and free to roam?”
“Money. And a lack of diligence on the part of the police. They have a lot going on. But I did go in and file a report of assault and violation of the protective order.”
Rory nodded slowly. “Good. Now, explain to me how this changes the course of your life as far as Corey is involved.”
And at that point, it was easy. Rory was the last person to judge, and now that Corey knew everything, there was no reason to hold back from this unexpected friend, a woman who knew so much about the predicament of falling for a biker and who was open and honest with a world of psychic insight.
As she wrapped up divulging her history with David up to the attack last night, Regan waited and watched Rory process all of it. she sipped the remainder of the smoothie, wondering if she’d laid too much on the woman in front of her. But at length, Rory said, “So, you’ve spent a lot of time running, and you thought maybe destiny had driven you to this point, where you could settle in and feel safe enough to fall in love. And then maybe fate drove you to Corey, who can keep you safe and make you happy.”
Biting her lip, Regan nodded. “Yes. But now that David popped back up, he’s not going to stop. He’s going to come for me. So, maybe I just haven’t built up enough good karma, and fate is laughing in my face and telling me I’m supposed to keep drifting.”
“Hold on just a minute. You see all this as a sign that you’re supposed to move on again?” For the first time since her initial anger, Rory showed emotion, complete shock at the direction the conversation was going. “I thought we were talking about something else entirely.”
Scowling as she tried to imagine, Regan asked, “Like what?”
“I don’t know. Maybe fate is telling you this is exactly where you belong, and that Corey is the one for you because he’s the one man that can keep you safe, even when your domineering and abusive ex comes into the picture. Maybe it’s showing you th
at, with a little love and faith, you can certainly settle down and live happily ever after.
“And what about Corey? Maybe he needs you, and his destiny is to have found you and stop focusing quite so hard on the club. Sure, they need him, but he doesn’t need to put himself in an early grave for them.”
Rory paused and squeezed her eyes shut, leaning back in her chair with the wind knocked out of her. “I’m sorry, that was a bit of a rant. I just hate knowing how hard it is for some people to see the truth of the matter. And how much within human nature it is to tempt fate by making a wrong decision.”
Groaning and more confused than ever, Regan asked, “So what am I supposed to do? Just wait, with Mike or some other member of the Devil’s Flames outside my front door, or my place of business, or any other establishment, until David is six feet under or in a six by six cell before I make a decision?”
“No, you should meditate on it,” Rory said definitively. “Clear your head until all that’s left is this matter, the good things and the bad things. Then, weigh out the pros and cons, without regard to the eventual outcome. Don’t think about anything but leaving versus staying and what each entails. It’s the only way to decide without having outside influences.”
Regan wasn’t sure she could do that. Yes, she could meditate and did it often. That was part of the reason she was so drawn to Rory and her class. The woman was a guru, and she had a lot of metaphysical strength and energy that Regan sometimes drew from so she could go home and meditate. But could she really drive away all other thought except the merits of leaving and staying?
She wasn’t sure she had it in her.
“Reach down to your core and see what’s there,” Rory suggested, as if reading her mind once again. “You might find the strength you’re looking for. And when you do, that strength may already have a label on it that answers your question before you even need to meditate.”
Regan had to concede, and she nodded reluctantly. “I guess you’re right. The answer is somewhere inside.” She felt an ache in her chest, and her fingers trembled as she searched for the keys in her purse. She was overly emotional at the moment, considering the decision she needed to make.
Worse, though, was the idea that she had to go home, to the place that still reeked of David’s residual presence. If evil had a smell, it would taint the air the way he did, she thought to herself. And the icing on the cake was that she couldn’t call Corey. He wasn’t going to show up tonight, and he wasn’t going to call. He was busy, with a life threatening situation of his own. And she was somewhat relieved that Mike, or someone similar who was rested, would be posted on watch helped.
But it wasn’t the same as having Corey at her side. He fulfilled the need for safety, warmth, physical and emotional tenderness. “Thank you for taking some time to listen,” she told Rory sincerely.
“Oh, please, I’m more than happy to help, especially since I am in no hurry to go back to the worry monster pacing my place. I just wish I could help him calm down. But that man has a wall as thick and strong as steel up right now, and I’m never going to break through it. The club is his family.”
Corey had said the same, and it made sense. And that’s when she knew what she had to do. She had already reached inside and found the label on her strength. It was her love for Corey that would drive her to a decision, and that decision was going to be life altering.
Standing, she said her goodbyes, attempting to hug Rory but barely even able to lean across the woman’s distended belly to kiss her cheek. She needed to get home and start making some calls so she could ensure she had everything set up to assure her decision turned into a solid plan and that she could pull it off without a hitch.
13
The only thing on Corey’s mind as the crew rolled into the clubhouse was getting back to Regan. Four days away, two men in the hospital, and layers of sweat, dirt, gunpowder, and blood meant the need to rest and recuperate, clean up. He’d slept maybe eight hours in the entire time they were on the road.
But he’d seen Gomez’s body with his own eyes, watched Dylan put a bullet through the man’s brain. He’d had shrapnel from a bullet graze his arm, and he’d bled like a stuck pig, so he was weak and dehydrated. Most of his men were the same, but they’d all wanted to come home. There would be a lot of negotiating to do with the Ravens who had surrendered, and there was a rogue member of the Serpents they still had to catch, a man that had nearly cost them this victory. But at the moment, Corey had left that to the other MC, trusting them so that he could come home and make sure Regan was alright.
She’d been on his mind the whole time, her safety his top priority even above his own men, and that shook him, draining even more of his energy. He’d checked in with Mike twice, who had assured him there was no sign of David and that none of the Ravens had come into town during their absence, either. He’d also let Corey know that Regan had spent a couple of evenings with Rory, which made him nervous but was probably for the better. The pregnant woman was a fireball, but maybe Regan’s innate calm had counterbalanced her.
Either way, he could barely move, muscles destroyed and his arm aching where they’d field bandaged it tightly with some cloth. He needed to see if Zeke could get Leigh to come out and work her nurse voodoo on it. He didn’t need a hospital, and he didn’t want to raise more concern with their goings-on than the club already had with their two men in the emergency room.
First, though, he wanted to call Regan and hear her voice. It would go a long way in soothing him, and he could rest easy for a couple of hours. Then, he could shower, change, and head over to see her, if she was available. And god, he hoped she was. He didn’t even need sex, he just wanted to sit on her couch and hold her, feel her softness and relax. She was his center, his peace, and whether he wanted to admit it or not, it was time to tell her as much before he ran the risk of losing her.
Picking up his phone, he considered texting. After all, he had lost track of the days and couldn’t remember if she would be working now. He didn’t want to interrupt a session with a client by calling. Then again, she usually kept her phone in her locker.
But seeing that it was already after six, he realized Regan should be off, so he dialed her number and waited while it rang.
“Corey! Are you back?” She sounded anxious, as if needing the confirmation of his safety to ease her mind.
“We just rolled in about ten minutes ago, most of us in one piece,” he told her. “I wanted to call you right away.”
“That’s great! Did everything go as planned?” She seemed to hesitate to ask, and she kept the question broad. Again, Corey was reminded how lucky he was to have found a woman who understood the importance of subtlety.
“We got our man,” he told her simply. “Listen, I really want to see you. I have something I need to tell you. But I’ve got to get cleaned up first. I’m covered in road dust and sweat.”
She laughed, but it sounded odd, not the normal gleeful sound that he loved so much. “Okay, Captain. You get cleaned up, and I’ll grab some takeout. I have some things to tell you, too.” There it was. Nerves. Why would she be nervous to tell him something?
And that was a dumb question, because he was terrified to tell her how he felt about her. It could be anything, good or bad, and he just needed to be patient and handle it when the time came. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll see you in about an hour.” He hung up, forcing himself to head to the shower. He didn’t have the energy for this, but it was vital that he not waste any time. The last four days had taught him a lot about what was important in life, and he had to make sure he followed through with any necessary actions on his part to make sure those thing stuck around.
He lathered twice, not feeling clean enough after scrubbing once, and he winced as he washed his arm where the cut was. He still needed to get the wound tended, but it could wait till morning. It had already been two days, and there was no sign of infection. Seeing Regan was more important at the moment.
His own c
onfidence a little shaken by her words, Corey chose his best pair of jeans and a nice collared shirt, one he reserved for special occasions, before throwing on his cut and adding some cologne. He could still imagine the coppery scent of blood on him, and he didn’t want that to linger in his head when he opened up to Regan.
Using the gel he rarely touched, he slicked back his long hair into a tame tail at the nape of his neck, the locks shining in the overhead light. He would have shaved, but several days’ growth of stubble actually looked fairly decent on him, and he nodded at his reflection before slipping into his boots. For a biker, he looked pretty respectable.
“Got a hot date?” Zeke called from the bar, where he was tossing back a beer. From the sound of it, this was far from his first.
“You could say that,” Corey muttered, reaching for a bottle of his own. He just needed one to take the edge off. He certainly wasn’t going to ride after more than one on an empty stomach, and since he was committed to going, he had to maintain a sense of moderation.
Zeke raised a brow. “I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.”
“None of our business,” Harrison cut in, sidling up to the bar with them and giving Corey a knowing look. “If the prez wants to tell us about it, he will. Otherwise, the softer side of his life is his personal business.”
That was rich coming from Harrison, the nosiest mother of the bunch. But Corey appreciated the backing. Zeke, however, scoffed. “You’re one to talk, Mouth. Come on, give us the digs, boss. It’s time to celebrate. Give us a little something else to toast to.”
But Corey shook his head. “Go home and celebrate with your old ladies. I’ve got better things to do than hang around with your sorry asses.” With that, he finished the brew quickly and strode out the door, despite Zeke’s protests following behind. He had a one track mind, and it meant completely ignoring the jabs and demands of his club brothers.
