by S. Nelson
Growing up in foster care, I was the one whose faith in people should’ve been shattered. The system took me away from my mother when I was a baby because her priority had been drugs and not raising a child. And while I’d been in some decent foster homes, I’d also been placed with some questionable people as well.
I wasn’t sayin’ it didn’t take me time to trust people, because it did, but I refused to allow anyone to have power of my life, over any relationship I chose to have, whether it was with my brothers in the club or with women in general. I didn’t know my biological mother and I didn’t want to, but I was smart enough to realize not all women should be punished for her fuckup. I wanted a relationship with Chelsea but not the one we found ourselves involved in, one without commitment. I could envision my future with her, possibly even marriage and some rug rats, but it was apparent she didn’t feel the same.
Sleep had refused to claim me, my thoughts about what the next few days, weeks, and months would look like without Chelsea consuming me even though I tried to will them away.
She infuriated me beyond belief, switching from hot to cold so easily I wondered sometimes if there was something wrong with her. I’d never known someone to be so damn unpredictable. Although, I was sure if anyone asked her about my temperament, she’d say much of the same thing. She’d told me as much, calling me a moody prick on several occasions. But I was simply takin’ my cue from her.
Sometimes I wondered what it was about her that had me comin’ back for more, and while I couldn’t pinpoint any one thing, it was a combination of several. She was the first chick I wanted to hang out with after having sex. She was witty. She wasn’t afraid to call me on my shit, and she was the first person I’d talked to in depth about my time growing up in the system. Chelsea didn’t judge me because of how I grew up; instead, she told me my experiences had shaped the man I became, someone who she thought was pretty terrific.
No one was privy to our true dynamic. All anyone saw was the superficial layer we portrayed when around our friends. When I tried to act as if we were more than just fuck buddies, she’d start an argument or ignore me altogether. And forget about trying to claim her as mine in public. If I acted jealous in any way, she’d tell me I was being ridiculous, and when I didn’t let up, she’d ghost me for a couple days. I supposed it was her way of letting me know she was in charge of what happened between us, that I had to do things on her terms, or I couldn’t be with her. And for a while, I conceded.
But no more.
I refused to continue that song and dance, which was why I made her choose. And now I was free to do what I wanted, with whoever I wanted.
Problem was I didn’t want anyone else.
Clutching my head as I stood, I prayed for a distraction from all things Chelsea, and seeing as how there was so much going on at the club, I didn’t think I’d have an issue there.
The stream of the shower did nothing to alleviate the throbbing in my temples or the odd ache in my chest. But instead of dwelling on my particular situation for a second longer, I dried off and reached for my phone, which was now vibrating on top of the dresser.
“Yeah,” I answered, running the towel over my damp hair.
“Where are you?” Linc was on the other end, his impatience evident with his quick words.
“Home. Why?”
“You comin’ in?”
“I planned on it.”
“Okay. I’ll see you when you get here.” He hung up before I could ask if there was something wrong, which I supposed was a moot point since somethin’ was always happening now.
On my way to the clubhouse, my cell rang two more times, but I let it go to voice mail. I didn’t have to look to know neither of the calls were from Chelsea. She was too proud to reach out, especially with the way we left things between us.
Which was just another way to say we were over.
Five minutes after the last purposely missed call, I pulled into the lot, parking my SUV at the far end. I’d wanted to take my bike, but the cloudy sky suggested possible weather not ideal for riding.
Killing the engine, I leaned into my seat and stretched my fingers, the slight ache surprising because it was only then I realized how tightly I’d been gripping the wheel.
I would’ve been content sitting in my truck for the next ten minutes had it not been for the rap on my window.
“What’s up?”
Linc took a step back when I opened the door. “Prez wants me to take Tag and go check on that prospect’s sister.” He didn’t look happy at the instruction, but he was the one who told the guy he’d look after her as the fucker lay there gasping for breath.
“And let me guess. You want me to go with you.” He shrugged, giving me all the answer I needed. “Where is she? And how are we gonna explain our presence?”
“She works at a coffee shop about twenty-five minutes from here. And we don’t have to do anything. Just check on her to make sure she’s still alive.” Linc walked next to me as we strolled toward the clubhouse, both of us uncertain as to how this little excursion trip was gonna go.
“And how do we know what she looks like?”
“Prez gave me a picture, along with her address and workplace. He even gave me info on the car she drives and her license plate.”
“He give you her blood type?”
“AB positive,” he answered, smirking when my mouth fell open. “I’m fuckin’ with you. That would be weird if his guy had that in the file.”
“His guy?”
“He’s got someone who can get any information he needs. I didn’t ask, and I doubt he’d tell me even if I did. Besides, it’s not really important.”
“And this guy Prez has, he can research anything?” My teeth played with the corner of my bottom lip while I contemplated the possibilities, not that I had anything in mind, per se, but it was always good to have access to that kind of resource.
“I believe so, yeah. Why?”
“No reason.” I changed the subject. “How’s Tag doin’?”
“Better than he was. Physically, at least.” Linc walked inside ahead of me, stopping to talk to his ol’ man before jerking his chin at me to follow him to one of the back bedrooms.
I felt better about Tag’s condition after Addy stopped by to check him out. Now all he had to do was heal up and trust he’d be safe as a member of this club, although he didn’t take the same stance. Not that I blamed him for any skepticism. If I’d gone through what he had, I wouldn’t know who to trust either.
Linc rapped on the guy’s door twice before twisting the handle, entering without verbal permission. I followed him inside, standing near the closest wall, scouring the room because being here with our newest prospect rattled me a little. Not that I didn’t like Tag, because I did. And I trusted him as much as anyone could with someone they’d recently met, but now that the guy was probably in a different space mentally, I wasn’t so sure my faith in him was completely intact. Would he try and do something to one of us as retaliation? Did he even have it in him to do something like that?
Tag stood in the bathroom, carefully leaning over the vanity as he swished his mouth out with water before tossing his toothbrush on the counter. His midsection was covered in what looked to be plastic wrap which rested right above the towel he had around his waist.
He glanced over at us but didn’t say anything. Instead, he unwrapped the plastic, wincing when he accidentally brushed against the bandaged area on his side. “At least it doesn’t hurt as much as it did,” he grumbled, loud enough for us to hear even though he didn’t address either of us directly. When he finished up and walked into the bedroom, I saw the X shape Cutter sliced into his chest was still red and swollen.
Only after his shirt cleared his head did he talk to us. “What’s up?”
“Prez wants us to take you with us. We gotta go check on someone.” Tag wasn’t privy to the promise Linc made to Pike, but we’d fill him in on the way. “You feel up to it?”
“
Do I have a choice?” He didn’t wait for either of us to answer before he turned his back and reached for his jeans. “I’ll be out in a few minutes. It takes me a bit to get dressed these days.”
As Linc and I headed toward the door, Marek walked in, the scowl on his face seemingly permanent these days. He tossed a cut on the bed, his focus bouncing between the three of us, coming to land on Tag when he opened his mouth.
“That’s for you. Wear it.”
“Why do you look put out?” Tag asked, the disdain in his tone screaming he’d rather be anywhere but here. “You’re the one who forced me to be here.”
“I’m just keepin’ my enemy close.”
After hearing all the gory details, part of me understood way Marek didn’t like Tag, why he was hung up over his lineage, even though he was aware the guy didn’t share anything with Vex other than DNA. I only hoped in time both would come to some sort of agreement, a truce of sorts, whatever that might look like.
“I’m not your enemy. I thought we established that.” Tag’s nostrils flared when he shifted his feet, pain flashing across his features at the slight movement. I couldn’t even imagine how much pain he was in and I certainly would never understand what he went through emotionally, having never dealt with a surprise kidnapping and then torture session, only to be left in limbo afterward not knowing if I was gonna live or die.
Prez didn’t react, ignoring his comment. “You ride? You got a bike?”
Instead of another snarky response, the only thing Tag said was “Yes and no.”
“Kaden’s working on fixing up one of the bikes. I’ll tell him it’s for you when you’re up to riding. You can pay it off by helping him in the garage again.” Marek’s eyes traveled the length of him. “Did Addy give you enough pain meds?”
“Yeah.” Tag ran his hand through his damp hair, looking to the ground and inhaling a deep breath. Then he looked back up, his scowl matching Prez’s. Neither of them spoke for what felt like forever. The tension in the room vibrated and it was only when I glanced at Linc did I feel some sense of relief because he appeared as uncomfortable as I did.
Finally, Marek spoke. “I got your mother an appointment with Dr. Skovish. He’s supposed to be one of the best oncologists in the state, and he’s local.”
“I didn’t ask you to do that. I can take care of my mom just fine.”
“It’s done. I need your focus on the shit I need you to do and not worried about her health.” He took a moment before continuing. “And I took care of her medical bills, past due and going forward.” Tag’s brows rose to his hairline, a fraction of tension leaving his body, his otherwise confused expression placated with a bout of relief.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“Like I said, it’s done.”
Was that Marek’s way of apologizing for what happened to Tag at the hands of our club? If so, it was the closest I’d ever heard him say he was sorry. He’d never said the actual words. Even Stone would joke the last time he heard his best friend say, “I’m sorry,” was when they were kids.
He walked out mumbling something under his breath, closing the door roughly behind him and taking most of the tension with him.
14
We pulled up to a little café close to a half hour after we left the clubhouse, finding a parking spot directly across the street.
“Let me see the pictures.” I held my hand out after killing the engine. I drove today because there was no way I was sittin’ three guys deep in the front seat of Linc’s truck. He slid the photos into my palm, and I turned over the first one which was a close-up. “Wow. She’s hot.” Erin, Pike’s sister, who looked to be in her early twenties, had long, straight dark hair and blue eyes. And from the second pic, which was a full-body shot, she was tan, slender, and had a killer body. Both images were taken recently as she’d walked out of the coffee shop. I wasn’t sure why I was surprised she was so attractive, but I was all the same. I passed the images back to Tag, and he affirmed my sentiments.
From our position alongside the curb, we were inconspicuous while still having a vantage point of the cafe. One large window ran the full length of the shop, allowing us to see directly inside, watching the workers as well as the patrons coming and going.
“Do we even know if she’s working today?” Linc asked, slouching down in his seat as if he was preparing for a lengthy stakeout.
“According to the info we were given she should be,” I answered.
“So, what are we supposed to do? Kidnap her?” Tag kicked the back of my seat when he moved his leg.
“Of course not.” I gave him a questioning look in the rearview mirror.
“Oh, why? ’Cause that’s out of character for you guys?” His pissy tone didn’t shock me. But I didn’t want him to think that’s how Linc and I operated.
I turned to face him, the creaking sound of my cut intensifying against the leather of my seat. “Listen, Tag. We”—I motioned to Linc, then back to myself—“would’ve never gone along with snatching you up in the first place. And we sure as hell wouldn’t have signed off on what Cutter did to you. We never believed you had any association with the Reapers. It’s just that… well, you know the rest of that story.” I fumbled over my words because although I tried to let him know we were never against him, my weak explanation didn’t do a damn thing to justify what happened to him.
Linc had swiveled around in his seat when I did. “To answer your question, we’re just supposed to watch out for her, check on her, and make sure she’s okay.”
On a sigh, Tag asked his next question. “How are we supposed to do that?”
“You can go in and grab me a coffee. See if she seems out of sorts at all, worried about anything.” I waited to see what his response would be with me volunteering he be the one to go inside. Normally, the prospect had to do whatever one of the members told him, but after everything Tag went through, and knowing it wasn’t exactly his choice to become a member of the Knights, I wouldn’t force him to do it if he didn’t want to. But just in case, I gave him an incentive. “She is hot. She’d be some nice eye candy for you while you grab my drink.” I wiggled my brows, which got a smirk out of him. Slow progress, but I’d take it.
He slid across the back seat and gripped the handle. “And how am I supposed to know if she’s out of sorts, as you put it?” He looked between me and Linc, neither of us answering. “Forget it, I’ll just do my best.” His eyes landed on my passenger. “You want anything?”
“Nah. I’m good. Thanks.” Linc swung around to face front and pulled out his cell.
Tag slammed the door a little too hard and jogged across the street, missing an oncoming car by inches, but he didn’t seem to notice. Once he disappeared inside the café, I released a whoosh of air.
“What’s up?” Linc asked, his attention pinned to his device and not me.
“This whole thing is kinda fucked up, don’t ya think?”
“With Tag? Or with checking on this girl?”
“Both.”
“Eh, I guess.” He glanced out the window before going back to his phone, whipping out a text, then another. “This fuckin’ realtor is driving me nuts. I told her I wanted a place close to the club, but she keeps sending me listings for an hour north.”
“I’m sure she’ll find somethin’ for you.”
“She better.” He huffed a few more times during their exchange before darkening his screen.
“How are things with you and Maddie goin’?” I turned the radio down in anticipation he’d respond, which he did.
“Good. Real good, actually. I don’t like having to stay at Kaden’s until we find a place, but I don’t have any other choice. I’m not bringing her home, and I can’t stay at the clubhouse because Nash, Miles, and Rez have the other rooms.”
“If I was still talkin’ to Chels, I’d give you my place for a bit, but that’s over.” My fingers drummed against the steering wheel, my irritation over the entire situation amping me up all over
again, as if I’d ever simmered down to begin with.
“What do you mean it’s over? Like over, over? Or you two just fightin’ again?”
“Thought you didn’t wanna hear about my problems with her?” I flashed him a half smile, my lips curving downward almost immediately afterward.
“That’s when you kept goin’ back and forth. But you made a decision for good this time, right?”
“She did.”
“Well, you made her choose.” His phone dinged but he ignored it. “Or am I mistaken?”
“No, you’re right. She wanted to keep shit the same between us, but I didn’t. So we’re not messin’ around anymore. That’s it. Time to move on.” I hated uttering those words. “On to the next one.”
“But I thought you loved her,” Linc blurted, smiling when my mouth fell open.
“What the fuck? I never said that.” I was all too aware my denial was a lie, to him as well as to myself.
“You did. After the big fight at her house when you were both drunk.” He laughed at my dismay. The bastard was gettin’ a kick out of this.
“Exactly,” I said, trying to deflect. “I was drunk. I didn’t know what I was sayin’.”
“Yeah, but—”
“But nothin’, Lincoln.” I used his full name, my voice hardening. “Drop it. It’s over. End of story.”
He threw his hands in the air. “Fine. But I still think—”
I punched him on the arm, not hard but enough to get my point across. “What part of drop it don’t you get?”
“Punch me again and see what happens.” His words were serious, but his tone was a touch jovial.
The silence that ensued was short-lived, our frustration for Tag taking so damn long bothering both of us.
“Where the fuck is he?” He leaned closer to his window, as if he’d somehow gotten a better visual to see inside the shop.