by Devney Perry
Though, he had just come into my home with a gun and hit her across the face.
He had changed.
The Jeremiah I’d known had never laid a hand on me. Of all people, he should have known it was the ultimate betrayal.
“What’s going on, Scarlett?” I whispered, keeping my gaze on Jeremiah.
He stayed at the window, raking a hand through his hair and muttering to himself.
“I don’t know.” Her eyes were full of fear as she stared at him. “Something isn’t right. It hasn’t been for a while. He’s edgy and angry. He’s been getting into fights. There’s been a few times when he’s come to the clubhouse bloody. There was one time this summer it was so bad I almost took him to the hospital, but he refused. So I helped clean him up, but he wouldn’t tell me what happened.”
Leo. That had to have been the night Leo went after Jeremiah. Had Leo beaten him up more than once? When Jeremiah had come to my house this summer, he’d had markings on his face but that couldn’t have been from Leo. There was no way Leo would have risked angering the Warriors a second time and luring danger to Clifton Forge.
I leaned in closer to Scarlett’s ear. “Why’d you leave?”
“We got in a fight. He wouldn’t tell me what was going on and we argued. He got really mad and it was . . .” She swallowed hard. “It reminded me of Dad, so I left.”
“Did he hit you?”
Her chin quivered. “Not until today.”
I took her hand, gripping it with both of mine. There were hurts to heal, discussions to have and mistakes to forgive, but right now, we needed each other. We’d survive this horror like we’d survived others.
Together.
“Jeremiah.” I swallowed hard, willing my voice to be gentle and soothing. That was how Mom used to talk to Dad when he was on the verge of a rage. She’d speak so tenderly, and there’d been times when her words would wash away the fire. “What’s going on?”
He turned away from the window, blinking like he’d forgotten we were sitting on the floor in the dark. After he’d hit Scarlett, he’d shoved us in this spot and run through the house, shutting off every light. If I’d been thinking clearly, that might have been our window to escape, but Scarlett and I had both been in shock after he’d punched her.
“You can tell them it’s a mistake.” He stepped away from the window to pace behind the couch. “You can tell them I’m not here to hurt you, and Scarlett made that call on accident. Then you can get me the money.”
“What money?”
“I need some money, Pres.”
I’d heard that sentence so many times, but never with such desperation. My hold on Scarlett’s hand tightened. “Why? What happened?”
“You can get me the money and tell the cops it was a mistake.” He repeated the words, convincing himself rather than me that his plan would work. “Tell them Scarlett was drunk or something. Then you’ll get me the money.”
“What money?” I asked again.
“I need one hundred thousand dollars to make this all go away.”
My mouth fell open. “Oh my God. What did you do?”
“I need a hundred thousand dollars!” The gun flailed in the air as he shouted.
Scarlett inched closer.
“Tell me what you did,” I said, doing my best to keep my voice from shaking. “What happened?”
“I fucked up.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he blinked, focusing on me. Something flashed in his eyes—pain or regret—and for the first time since he’d burst inside, I felt like he was actually seeing us. He realized we were cowered on the floor. His gaze darted to Scarlett’s lip. “Fuck. I’m so sorry, babe. I didn’t mean it. I swear, it will never happen again.”
I’d heard that my entire life. For once, I wanted a man to be honest. I meant it. And it’s gonna happen again.
“Jeremiah, look at me.” My voice was growing bolder as his ends began to fray. “What. Happened?”
“I took some drugs.”
“Today?” That explained his behavior.
“No,” he snarled. “From the club.”
My eyes bulged. “You’re doing drugs?”
“Goddamn it, Presley! Will you shut the fuck up and let me talk?”
I flinched and closed my mouth.
“I was on a run for the club this summer. We were taking some H to Washington, and when we got there, there was a mix-up at the drop. I thought I’d emptied out my saddlebags, and the guys who made the switch counted it all and said we were good. But when I got back to Ashton, I found a pouch I’d forgotten. And I kept it.”
My stomach dropped. He’d stolen drugs from his own motorcycle club. I’d been around the Tin Gypsies enough; you didn’t betray your brothers.
Jeremiah was a dead man walking.
“I have this friend in Chicago,” he said. “A guy I met after high school who was connected with some dealers. He sold it for me. We split the money, and he asked if I could get more.”
“So you’ve been stealing from the Warriors,” I whispered.
“It’ll all go away if I pay them back.”
No, it wouldn’t.
“I just need some money,” he pleaded, sensing my skepticism. “That’s why I came. I figured if I held Scarlett hostage or something, you’d find a way to get me the money. Last time I was here, you were with that movie star. I recognized him. A hundred grand is nothing to a guy like that. Just ask him.”
He accentuated his last sentence by pointing the gun to my face.
“Okay,” I lied. “I can ask Shaw.”
“Good.” His shoulders fell and the gun dropped to his side. “Then it’ll be okay. See, babe? It’ll be okay.”
Scarlett stayed quiet, keeping her eyes locked on her knees.
“Do the Warriors know you took the drugs?” Were they on their way here? Had they followed him?
“No.” Jeremiah’s face paled. “They think it was someone else.”
Oh, God. “Who?”
His eyes flicked to Scarlett.
“What?” I shrieked. “You told them it was Scarlett?”
She gasped, then schooled her reaction. Her body froze, and her gaze turned to ice. She shut down like she’d done a million times before.
“They would have killed me on the spot. But she was already gone. If I go back with the money, I can convince them to leave her alone. We’ll let it ride for a while and I’ll see if I can get out of the club in a few years. This will blow over.”
Jeremiah was delusional. Men like Tucker Talbot didn’t believe in letting things blow over. Members didn’t leave his club—alive. Whether they were compensated or not, someone would pay for the theft.
If we didn’t fix this, that person would be Scarlett. I would lose her to him like I’d lost Draven.
“Okay. Let’s figure this out. Where is the money?”
“I lost it.”
“Gambling.” Fuck. I should have known. “You lost it playing poker.”
Guilt crossed his face for the briefest moment, then his features hardened. “Make the call, Presley. Get me that fucking money. Or your sister is dead.”
I gritted my teeth and pushed up from the floor, dropping Scarlett’s hand. “I hate you for this.”
The fury slipped out with the words.
He lifted his chin, the obstinate gesture twisting his features. “Make. The. Call.”
He looked nothing like the boy who’d helped me escape my own personal hell. He looked nothing like the man I’d wanted to marry.
I swiped my phone off the end table, but before I could bring up Shaw’s number, the doorbell rang.
The room stilled.
“Clifton Forge Police,” Luke called from beyond the front door. “We got a call. Just want to make sure everything’s okay.”
With one long stride, Jeremiah crossed the distance between us and gripped my arm, hauling me across the floor. “Tell him we’re fine. Tell him it was a mistake.”
I fought his grip. When I was a k
id, I never would have dreamed of fighting my father, but I wasn’t that scared little girl anymore. “Let me go.”
He pressed the barrel of the gun to my head, urging me forward. “Do it, Pres. Or I’ll hurt Scarlett.”
I met his glare. “Who are you?”
He pressed the gun harder. “Get rid of him.”
I sucked in a breath, then slowly walked to the door.
Jeremiah trailed close behind, shifting so the barrel of the gun was in my ribs. He nodded toward the knob.
I cracked the door. “Hey, Luke.”
“Hi, Pres. Can I come in?”
“Now’s not a good time. I know my sister called you guys on accident, but we’re fine. Sorry about that. We’re just talking.”
Luke’s eyes darted to the side where Jeremiah stood behind the door.
I gave him a slight nod.
“You sure you’re okay?” Luke stared at me like he was trying to communicate something, but I had no clue what he was saying behind his serious gaze. He was wearing a bulletproof vest and no coat. His arms had to be cold.
“I’m okay. Thanks for checking on me. Good night.” I closed the door quietly.
Jeremiah stretched past me to flip the lock.
We stood there, barely breathing, as Luke’s footsteps echoed across the porch.
“He won’t leave,” I whispered, turning to Jeremiah, hoping I could reason with him. “He knows something is wrong. Until he sees for himself that I’m fine, he won’t leave. Put the gun down, Jeremiah. Please. Let’s sit down and talk. This isn’t you.”
Jeremiah’s hard expression held fast. I was sure he’d hit me next, but then his chin dropped along with the gun. “I fucked up.”
When his eyes lifted to mine, he looked so broken. Had he always been this lost? Had I missed this in our time together?
His home life hadn’t been horrendous like ours, but it hadn’t been good either. His parents had neglected him, and when Scarlett had come along, she’d given him the attention he’d craved. He’d given her his devotion in return.
But it wasn’t love.
I knew love. I saw it in Shaw’s smile. I felt it in his touch. I heard it in his voice.
The second I got out of this mess, I’d tell the world.
I was in love with Shaw Valance.
“Go.” Jeremiah nodded for me to walk down the hall. He followed, not closely, with shuffled footsteps. The urgency from his dramatic entrance was gone. The desperation was waning too.
I reached the mouth of the entryway, ready to turn for the living room, when a hand gripped my elbow and yanked me sideways.
“Ah—” My scream was cut short as Shaw stepped in front of me, shielding me as he leveled a gun at Jeremiah’s face.
“Put the gun down,” Shaw ordered, his voice steady. “It’s over.”
Jeremiah looked at the weapon in his hand and his entire frame fell. “They’ll kill me.”
My eyes darted past Shaw, searching for Scarlett. She wasn’t on the floor anymore. Instead, she was standing behind Dash, who had his own weapon trained on Jeremiah.
“Yeah,” Dash said. “They will.”
Jeremiah’s eyes turned up, hazy and unfocused. He scanned the room until he found my sister. “I’m sorry.”
“It’ll be okay.” She sniffled. “We can fix this.”
He looked at me, then back to her. “I loved you.”
My hands gripped the back of Shaw’s sweater as time slowed.
Tears streamed down Scarlett’s cheeks.
Dash took one step forward.
Shaw yelled, “Stop.”
Jeremiah lifted the gun to his mouth.
And I screamed.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Presley
“Where’s my sister, Luke?” I planted my hands on my hips.
“She’s safe.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He steepled his fingers under his chin, leaning deeper into his chair with nothing else to say.
“You’re wasting my lunch hour,” I muttered. Luke had wasted my lunch hour every day this week.
Through the glass window behind him, snow was falling, dusting the bare tree limbs with another white layer. The riverbanks were frozen, and the water flowed black through an icy channel. There wasn’t a breath of wind in the air to disrupt the snowfall. The fat flakes floated down in perfect lines to rest on the ground.
It was peaceful. It didn’t seem right that the world was so tranquil when there was so much turmoil stirring inside my chest. “Is she okay?”
“Yes.” Luke nodded. “She’s safe.”
Safe was not the same as okay. There was a big difference between the two words after what we’d seen.
I hadn’t seen Scarlett in ten days, not since the night Dash had carried her out of my house, his hand over her eyes as she’d screamed and stretched for Jeremiah’s lifeless body. Shaw had pinned me to his side, shielding my eyes as we’d followed closely behind.
The moment the gun went off, chaos erupted.
As we hurried outside, a stream of police officers, Luke at the front, raced in. Somewhere between the questioning and the flashing lights and the gurney carrying a black body bag, Scarlett found her way into Luke’s truck. She sat slumped in the passenger seat, her head pressed to the glass of the window, her eyes blank.
Shaw and I stood in the snow, clinging to one another though neither of us was cold. We were numb. He wrapped me in his arms, holding me close. I burrowed into his chest, wanting to disappear inside forever.
Then he was ripped away. Arrested. Dash too. Both of them were hauled away in police cruisers while Emmett and Leo stood as my sentries.
In the midst of my panic, my pleas for answers and Shaw’s release, I lost Scarlett.
I looked over to Luke’s truck and she was gone.
I screamed her name, over and over, until Luke appeared. With his hands on my shoulders, he promised she was safe. That she was giving her statement. Then he drove me to the police station—it wasn’t like I could go home—and settled me in this office, draping a wool blanket over my shoulders. Then he’d sat me in the same chair I was in now, across from the same chair he was in now, and we’d talked about what had happened.
When I was finally free to go, I found Shaw waiting for me in the lobby. Bryce had posted bail to rescue him and Dash from their jail cells.
Shaw took me to his place. Sleep had been fitful at best, but he’d held me close, and when the tears had started the next morning, he’d tightened his embrace and promised it would be okay.
Ten days later, the fog was clearing.
I’d returned to work two days after that awful night. Everyone had protested when I’d walked into the office that morning with Shaw by my side, but I’d needed normal. I’d needed the garage’s noise, smell and peace.
The day after that, Shaw and Dash had been charged with obstruction of justice. Both had been fined but thankfully, there’d been no jail time. By some miracle, the arrest had been kept out of the tabloids so far. Shaw’s manager, agent, assistant and publicist were on high alert. It would happen, we’d deal with the fallout, and life would move on. Though I suspected that when the details emerged, Shaw’s image as a hero would only be reinforced.
He’d broken the law to save the life of the woman he loved.
My house had been cleaned. The evidence of Jeremiah’s death was gone but his shadow remained. I’d stepped inside once after the cleaners had gone and immediately stepped out. I wouldn’t go into that house again. Shaw had spent two days hauling my belongings into his home while I’d been at work.
As he’d promised, we would be okay.
I just needed to find my sister.
“Will you have her call me?” I asked Luke. “Wherever she is?”
“No.” He sighed. “She’s in protective custody. That means no outside contact. You keep asking but my answer isn’t going to change. She’s safe. She’s where she needs to be. Leave it at that and know
that I have her and your best interests at heart.”
“Fine.” I stood, knowing I’d get no more information. I picked up my purse and turned for the door.
“Pres?” Luke stopped me. “How are you holding up?”
“I’ll survive.”
“Anything I can do?”
“Besides tell me where my sister is? No. Just take care of her.”
“I will,” he promised. “And Shaw? Is he taking care of you?”
“Yeah.” I gave him a sad smile. “He is.”
“How’s he doing?”
“He feels guilty. At the moment, he’s burying that by fretting over me.”
Yesterday, I’d woken up alone. Shaw had been in the living room, sitting on the couch in total darkness, staring at a wall. It had taken some time to coax out the truth, but he’d eventually confessed.
He felt responsible for Jeremiah’s suicide.
Luke had listened to Shaw’s advice about how best to get Scarlett and me out safely from that house. They’d all agreed that their first step had to be gathering intel. They’d suspected Jeremiah was inside but hadn’t been sure. Someone had to approach.
Luke had insisted on taking the risk and ringing the doorbell himself. Meanwhile, one of his officers would attempt to survey the situation from my deck in the backyard.
Shaw and Dash had assured Luke they’d stand down, stay away and watch. Instead, Shaw had snuck through my bedroom window while Dash had snuck through Scarlett’s. The officer at the deck hadn’t been able to pick the lock on my sliding glass door.
While Luke had been debriefing his officers on the plan and pulling on a bulletproof vest, Shaw and Dash had crept inside, lurking in the dark, listening as Jeremiah had confessed to stealing from his club.
Maybe if they’d waited, maybe if they’d stayed outside, we would have been able to get Jeremiah out and into police custody.
Or maybe he would have killed us all.
We’d never know.
The guilt of Jeremiah’s death weighed on Shaw.
It wasn’t in his nature to disobey orders, and because of it, a man had taken his life.
“I get why he did it,” Luke said. “If I’d been in his shoes, I wouldn’t have stayed out of that house either.”