by Romi Hart
“I thought his father was the former president.”
Leigh gave her an admonishing expression. “You and I both know that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m not saying he needs someone to cook and clean and wear pretty things for him when he rolls into town after a long ride, but he throws himself into this position as if it’s all he has, and he doesn’t have anyone to release the tension with. He’s been so much better the past couple of weeks that, even though I don’t spend much time here, I’ve noticed a difference.”
Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath to ward off tears she didn’t want to fall, Regan ignored the stinging in her eyes and the curdling in her stomach, arguing, “He’ll get over it. The right woman is out there. It’s not me. I have so much baggage, and I have to get out of here.”
“I’m not telling you to change your mind,” Leigh told her. “I’m just giving you another perspective. I completely understand. I wouldn’t want to be in your position right now, either. Zeke had a tail on me for a while, too. I think all the guys get paranoid when they first realize they’ve found a woman they care about.” She was silent for a moment, then leaned in conspiratorially. “Listen, I’m not excited about violence or anything, but between you and I, that ex of yours deserves whatever he gets. And if I were you, I might consider having him…erased. These guys have the contacts to make him disappear, as if he never existed. Then, you’d have options, at least.”
Staring across the space between them, Regan couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact that a woman she happened to know was a nurse had basically just told her to put out a hit on her her ex husband. Of course, she shouldn’t be surprised, considering that Corey had been ready to go after David that very first night, after the attack. Certainly, Corey hadn’t intended to slap David on the wrist and call him a bad boy.
The question was, had Leigh always felt that way, or had it rubbed off on her, being with the motorcycle club all the time? Did being associated with them or, more to the point, in a relationship with one of them change who she was?
At the same time, something inside Regan wanted to listen to her. If she allowed these men, who followed Corey loyally and banded together to protect their own, to bloody their hands in an attempt to keep her safe and give her a future with a man that might love her, did that make her guilty? She thought back to the things David had done to her, the things he’d forced her to give up. And she reconsidered the notion that she should give up Corey for that bastard.
“Would you really let Zeke do something like that for you?” she asked, unable to hold back.
Leigh seemed to be considering her words carefully. Then, she slapped her hand flat on the bar and said, “I’m going to tell you something because you need to know what sort of a family this is. Just like I had to find out the hard way how loyal and protective and terrifying it is to be part of it.”
That sounded upsetting, but Regan nodded her consent. Leigh took a deep breath and told her, “The man they took out on that last run? That was for me. And for Kira. And for Rory. It was for all of us, and then some, because he personally harmed us. Kidnapping and shooting and even killing people. One of his men shot Rory. He kidnapped me. And he killed Kira’s little brother. So, in some ways, I already have let Zeke do something like that for me.” She shook her head, her expression hardening. “I hated biker clubs on principle, until I met Zeke. But that was all based on rhetoric I heard and things I’d seen in the hospital.
“Turns out, usually when someone actually comes in for treatment in leather, it’s because they were the good guys. The bad guys won’t show their faces. I’ve also patched up enough of the guys after a run that I know the stories the reasons they ride out. I know more about their business than I’m supposed to because I’m the resident nurse. If you stayed, you probably would, too. Everyone could use a little muscle therapy from time to time. The question is, are you willing to sacrifice a few small moral pedestals to get everything you want? And as far as I was concerned, to be with Zeke, it was worth letting some of my moral high ground wash away.”
For a moment, Regan considered that. But could she live with that decision? That’s what Leigh was trying to explain, she knew. And as much as she cared about Corey, she didn’t know if she could allow herself to change, to concede some of her moral standards.
She started to speak, but the man behind the bar, a really handsome but very young man, passed her a beer, handing another to Leigh, who smiled up at him. “Thanks, Rock.”
Taking a swig, Regan let the cool drink sting at her chest and stomach as she pondered what she was going to do with all this information. She could maybe talk to Corey, see what he had to say on the matter. She could always try to convince him to just capture David and turn him in to the police. But that was playing with fire.
Taking another sip, she started to tell Leigh that, while she didn’t blame her for her choice, a different path was in store for Regan. But there was a commotion, and the thunderous sound of at least a dozen bikes rolling in stopped her. Everything went silent, including the motors, as the small crowd inside turned toward the door, watching and waiting.
Several men came through, smiling with shouts of victory, covered in sweat and dirt, and then Regan’s eyes landed on Corey. He stumbled through the door, his face pale, and their gazes locked. His pallor was sickly, turning green, and before she could say anything, he took off at a sprint past her, slamming through doors and disappearing.
“Shit,” Leigh muttered next to her. “Something went wrong.”
Those words coming from a nurse didn’t bode well, and terrified of what she’d find, Regan took off after Corey, determined to find him and see what was wrong.
15
Corey raced through the room, through the door to the hallway that ran through the back of the building, and into the bathroom, barely getting the seat up on the toilet before losing his stomach. He heaved, over and over, with only acid coming out. And he kept heaving, even when the heaves were dry, nothing left to expunge.
Even the sight of Regan, still here in town and, hopefully, at the clubhouse looking for him, wasn’t enough to ease the nausea that had overtaken him so effectively. Of all the things that could have happened, all the circumstances he could have faced, he would never have guessed what he’d find when they tracked down the rogue member of the other gang, the one who had betrayed them so effectively and nearly gotten half of the crew killed.
How could his own man do this?
Craig had been part of Corey’s crew for more than eight years, and the guys trusted him. He was a gatherer of information, and he’d spent years honing in on relationships with other clubs, weaving through the political issues of territory and product and grudges to make sure that the Devil’s Flames had the knowledge to make peace or war as necessary. And it seemed he’d gotten too close to a couple of those rivals, including the Ravens.
Not only had he patched with another club, the Falcons, aside from the Devil’s Flames, an anomaly that shouldn’t even be possible; he’d made a deal with Gomez and the Ravens to pass along information regarding the attacks the rest of the clubs plotted to take Gomez down. When they’d ridden out, Corey assumed, like the rest of them, that they were after a rogue member of the Falcons. He had no clue he’d capture Craig, a man he’d shared too many beers with over time.
Thinking about it, Corey retched again, and the image of what he’d had to do flashed in his head. It was horrible, and he’d never thought he’d have to go through it with any of his boys. But Craig hadn’t said anything, had no excuses other than a serious debt he wanted to pay. Corey shook his head. He would have pulled the money from the club to help, but the son of a bitch hadn’t trusted that and had played three different clubs to get what he felt he needed.
The punishment for betrayal was being banned. But that was more than just pushing a man out of the club. He was ostracized, and they carried the scars of their mistakes. That mean that the cut was taken and shredded, all
patches burned. But it didn’t stop there.
Corey had been tasked with removing the tattoo, the Devil’s Flames insignia that Craig had covering his left shoulder. He’d given Craig the choice. He could burn over it, or he could cut it off. He didn’t like either option, both incredibly painful, and when Craig chose the knife, Corey wanted nothing more than to lean on someone else, let one of his officers do the deed. But he was the president, and it was his responsibility.
So, he’d taken the knife Harrison handed him, put the flame to it to sterilize, and he’d skinned Craig’s shoulder as the man first hissed and refused to scream. Then, he’d cried, and an agonizing moan came from his mouth. And finally, just before Corey had sliced the last bit off, he’d passed out. Harrison and Zeke had taken him under the arms, dragged him away, and put him face down on a mattress, calling for a nurse they had on speed dial. They didn’t call Leigh; they wouldn’t let her be a part of this. It was disgusting and painful to see, even for Corey, and he mourned the loss of one of his men. What would that do to Leigh?
Then, they’d left Craig there, with the nurse, disposing of his shredded cut and riding away as if he didn’t exist.
But in Corey’s mind, he could see the suffering. And in his heart, he ached.
A knock at the door just before it opened jerked his head up, and he cursed himself for not locking the damn thing. Regan stood there, staring at him with concern, and he wanted to crawl away. He didn’t know if he could face her, partly because he was so weak and partly because he’d handled the situation and felt like a monster because of it.
“Are you alright?” she asked, kneeling beside him.
He waved her away. “I’m fine. I just need a minute.”
She sighed and stood but didn’t leave. Instead, she grabbed a rag from the counter and ran the cold water, dousing the rag in it and then using it to wipe his forehead. Corey wanted to pull away, but it felt so good, the coolness of the rag and the tenderness of her touch, that he couldn’t. “You’re not okay, Captain. I can see through your lies. The question is, what made you sick? Are you ill? Did you eat something bad?”
He grunted. “I wish it was that simple.” How could he tell her? How could he divulge this hated thing he was forced to do, the way he treated a living, breathing human? She was leaving, and maybe it didn’t matter, but he didn’t want her leaving with that impression of him.
“Talk to me, Captain. Tell me what happened.” She spoke so quietly, so soothingly, that his stomach stopped clenching, and the swirling slowed.
“It’s too much, Regan. It’s filthy.” But the way she looked at him, as if it was impossible for him to do anything wrong, drew it out of him, and he told her everything. He choked on the story several times, had to stop and swallow past the lump in his throat or the bile that rose yet again. But she stroked his face, with the rag and then with her cool fingers, and she turned him and worked her magic on his shoulders as he rasped out the last of the tale.
“I’m so very sorry, Corey,” she told him when he was done, her tone sincere and filled with the same pain that rattled in his chest. “I know what betrayal feels like. You’re as close to your club family as any woman is to a husband, and this is equivalent to what David did to me. I trusted him, and he betrayed me. This guy did the same to you, and you spent more years building that bond than I ever thought about. It’s not easy, and the fact that you had to dole out the punishment…” She trailed off, and when she spoke again, her voice trembled. “I can’t even imagine how hard that was for you.”
Unwittingly, he leaned back against her, enjoyed being enveloped in her warmth, in her care, even if only for a moment. “How is it that you always know exactly what to say? How do you always manage to ease the pain and the ache and the tension in me?” He hadn’t wanted to remind himself of how wonderful it felt to be with her. She was walking away from him, and he had to let her go.
But damn, it was going to hurt, more than even Craig’s betrayal and having to take away everything that had supposedly mattered to the man as one of the Devil’s Flames.
She inhaled deeply and let the breath out slowly. “I’ve never been that for anyone, but I’m glad I can give you what you need, whether it be a relaxing massage or the right words to ease your mind. It gives me hope that, maybe, I have a purpose in life.” She didn’t try to get up, not for several long minutes, and eventually, Corey straightened, knowing it was unfair to keep her here.
He turned to face her, pushing past the elephant sitting on his chest and making it difficult to breathe as he met her gaze again. “So, why were you here when I got back? I mean, I thought you would have been on your way out of town by now.”
Regan blushed, and it was beautiful on those pronounced cheekbones of hers. “I was. But you missed your appointment, and you didn’t call to reschedule. I hadn’t heard from you, and you didn’t even answer when Lena called. I was worried, and I couldn’t leave town without making sure you were alright.”
“You’re something else,” he breathed out, the admission making his chest swell for a moment. Too bad that concern wouldn’t keep her in town. “I’m in one piece. Most of us are. And I’ll make it through this, move on and continue to do my job. Honestly, I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to check on you before you left, one last time, but I didn’t want to intrude.” And honestly, had he gone to her apartment and found it already empty, he probably would have cracked.
And he didn’t know if he’d recover from that experience.
“Well, I suppose, with everything settled, I have a little time. I don’t have to leave right this minute,” she hedged. “And after this, you should probably eat something. We could grab a bite to eat and say a proper goodbye.”
Corey’s heart sank. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he’d hoped her appearance here, or maybe the support she’d just offered, were evidence she wanted to stay, that she had changed her mind and didn’t intend to leave him here, wishing he’d played his cards differently. But she was still determined to go, and Corey was out of wild cards to throw at her.
“I think I’d like that,” he told her, angry at his voice for breaking on the last word. He didn’t like all the emotion in his tone, and he wanted to shove it down deep, where no one could see, hear, or touch it. But she made him vulnerable, opened him up in a way no one else ever had. “Let’s go for a ride, and I’ll take you someplace I like.”
He should have showered. He should have changed. But he wanted every moment he could get with Regan before she vanished into thin air. And part of him also feared she’d do so while he was getting cleaned up, avoiding this last goodbye after thinking twice about it. So instead, he quickly rinsed his mouth out and then hurried to the bar, where she was chatting with Leigh. As she had been when he’d arrived. There was no telling what they were talking about now, but the victory party was in full swing, and he knew that was partly to wash away the stench of sadness and betrayal.
It made it easy to sneak out, pulling Regan by the hand outside and to his bike. He handed her the helmet, and once she pulled it on, he helped her with the strap. Then, they both mounted Shawna, and he kicked the beast to life, still warm from the long ride home. He was determined to milk this opportunity, perhaps even use it to make her regret her decision and choose him over running away.
And either way, he wouldn’t promise that he’d leave that son of a bitch alone. If it made her more comfortable wherever she was landing, it was worth getting rid of him, with or without her permission.
He pulled onto the highway and ran the bike through the cool night air north, until he reached the south part of Dallas, exiting and taking back roads until he found the joint he was looking for. The old barbecue place was perfect, with few patrons at this time and the smell of smoke and honey in the air. They could sit comfortably, take as long as they wanted to eat, and maintain privacy until Regan demanded he take her home.
Dinner was quiet, and they told each other stories of childhood and life. It was comp
anionable, and all Corey wanted was for it to last forever. They shut the place down, the owner seeing them out with a smile and a few laughs, and outside, Corey hesitated to get back on the bike. He knew he’d have to head back to Regan’s apartment, and he just didn’t know if he had done enough to make her want to stay.
He felt closer to her than ever, and as she sat down on the bench outside, relief washed over him. Maybe she was going to tell him that she wasn’t leaving. Maybe she was going to confess that she was madly in love with him and couldn’t live without him.
Maybe he’d spent too much time on his aunt’s sofa as a child, watching soap operas.
Still, he slid into the space beside her, and when he took her hand and laced their fingers together, she didn’t pull away or resist. “Thank you for that. I’ve never really had that kind of conversation with anyone.”
She shook her head, gazing up at the stars as if longing to take flight, her eyes glistening as the moon shone in them. She was perfect in every way, and Corey was determined to memorize this image of her, lock it away in the vault for those times that he thought the whole world had gone rotten and ugly.
“I haven’t, either, Corey, and it means a lot that I got to share all that with you.” She sighed and chuckled, but there was a bit of sarcasm to the sound. “It’s sort of funny, really. David always feigned such interest in my life. Even when we were dating, he pursued me so hard, asked about every second of my day, made sure he didn’t miss anything important to me. But he never really wanted to hear anything about my past.” She scoffed. “I don’t mean to bring him up, except to say that you far outshine him in so many ways, just by being able to listen and share.”
