by Eve R. Hart
I rinsed off, using the same soap to clean my hair. I was hoping that I would step out and feel like a new man, but I didn’t. The same heaviness that plagued me when I got in still weighted me down. Nothing had changed. While I was a cleaner and better smelling version of my self, it hadn’t transformed anything on the inside. I wondered if I would ever find a way out of this Hell. Not that I deserved to.
Why couldn’t it have been me instead? Why couldn’t I have been the one in that house? In my mind, I made up scenarios where I was there and Logan was at my mom’s house or staying the night with one of my sisters. He spent the night away from home often enough that I wondered why it had to happen on that one night. The one night when he was there, sleeping in his bed, peacefully.
Then I got angry. Angry that Diesel had saved me, that he had risked his life to pull me out of the rubble that I was trapped under. Not that I remembered any of it, but I heard all about it after I woke up because my mom wouldn’t let me forget that he was the one that had saved my life. While she saw it as a blessing, I saw it as a curse and I wanted to hate him. Only I couldn’t. In the end, it was myself that I hated and I no longer wanted to keep going.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Tank
I drove my truck down the bumpy, narrow mountain road. I went slow, my foot hovering over the break. Not for me, of course. No, it was for anyone who might have been coming in the opposite direction. The road wasn’t wide enough for two cars, and while I may have had a death wish, I would never want to take anyone down with me.
The only reason I was leaving the cabin was the fact that I was out of booze. Or so I was trying to convince myself. It had nothing to do with my brothers showing up three days ago, worried about me, and asked me to leave the place at least one day a week. Loch said that I needed fresh air and signs of life. Perhaps if they hadn’t mentioned my mom then I would have blown them off altogether. The thought that she was sitting back home completely wrecked about me, hit me deep in my gut. I realized I lost my son, my reason for living, but she lost him too. And now she knew she was teetering on the edge of losing me as well.
I didn’t know what I was doing.
I was running, yet standing still at the same time. One foot planted on the edge of the cliff, the other lifted, hovering over the never-ending open space.
Fuck this shit.
As soon as I hit the main road, I had the urge to turn my truck around. Only I didn’t. In a haze, I kept driving. I knew this town pretty well since the club owned the cabin and we came out here often. More so back when Savage wasn’t an issue. I felt a brief pain in my chest thinking about how the club was in danger. But then the whole reason for why I wasn’t there with them overtook any sympathy I had.
It didn’t go unnoticed that Loch hadn’t mentioned any club shit while he was there. The last thing they told me before I left was that they were making moves to go up against Savage. I couldn’t deny that there was a part of me that wanted to know what was going on. And maybe a bigger part of me that itched to be there when it all went down. I would have loved to get a chance to put a bullet in his head. Or better yet, gut him and watch the life slowly drain from his eyes. By nature, I wasn’t a violent person, but I’d been pushed and I was no longer the man I used to be.
Before the rage could take over, I shifted my thoughts to something else. Really, anything else. I was scary enough in my current state, I didn’t need to add Hulk-like rage on top of that given that I was about to step out into the world of the living.
I hadn’t had anything to drink the entire day. My hands were slightly trembling and I knew it was a problem, I just didn’t give a damn. This was what I had become. This was what life had turned me into. Every second that ticked by, I could feel my soul slipping away, and I didn’t even try to hold onto it.
The neon light in the window of The Drunken Goat flickered up ahead, catching my attention. I cut the wheel to the left, pulling into one of the open spaces out front and the gravel crunched under my tires as I slowed to a stop.
The building looked the same as I remembered. Four windows lined the front, the deep green trim was peeling in chunks around the frames. The rest of the building was painted a burgundy that had faded to a dusty pink from years of being untouched. The front door was made of heavy oak and held a wrought iron goat head in the middle. There was a second story that was covered with a dull copper roof. The bar was only on the first level and I assumed the second was used for storage. I’d never seen signs of life up there all the years I’d been going here. There was also a small covered porch on the front ground level that always seemed too dark because the outside of the building was completely void of lighting.
I sighed as I cut the engine and flung the truck door open. The groan of the hinges could be heard over the twangy music blasting from inside the bar. I paused, halfway out of the truck, my eyes flickering down the road in the direction of the liquor store. That could count as an outing, I thought. But I knew it wouldn’t be enough for my brothers. If they knew, they would give me shit. I doubted going to a bar was what Loch had in mind, but I was currently breathing in fresh air and I knew there were a few people inside. And technically he didn’t say anything about not going to a bar.
The dust swirled around my boots as I stepped onto the ground. I was not in the mood to be around people. As I stomped to the front door, I kept thinking that I needed to just get a drink as soon as possible. Maybe ten.
The wind picked up, blowing my beard and my skin itched under the thick mess where I had been burned. I knew it was mostly in my head, but hell, if it didn’t throw me back to that night for a moment. My hands shook even more and I clenched my fists a few times, trying to pull myself together. Then I yanked open the heavy door to the bar and stepped inside.
The place wasn’t that busy. There were a few people scattered at the tables in the middle. A couple of booths were taken. And two people were sitting at the far end of the bar top. I didn’t look at anything else as I lumbered over to the empty end of the bar that happened to be close to the exit. As I took a seat, I knew I was putting my back to the door. Something that I would have never done before. If someone was going to come at me, then I would let them. My hair fell around my face as I hunched over and I stared down at the worn bar top.
“Whiskey,” I grumbled when I heard steps approaching me. My voice was raw and rough and it still hurt like a bitch to talk. Maybe if I used it more it wouldn’t be so bad. I didn’t look up. I didn’t care who was serving me, as long as they kept them coming fast enough.
A moment later, there was a glass set in front of me. My hand reached for it, but I stopped midway when I realized fingers were still wrapped around it.
My focus shifted to the short but neat nails. The length just long enough to be flush with the tips of the fingers. Fingers that were tan and slender. Female. One gold ring sat just above the middle knuckle on her ring finger and two others were placed all the way at the base on her pointer and middle.
My eyes slowly kept scanning up. Slender wrists held multiple gold bangles and one thin leather band. My head tilted up as I took in the woman on the opposite side of the bar from me. Hips thick enough to grab onto. Waist small and breast big enough to fill my massive hands. She had a perfect hourglass shape that even her loose shirt couldn’t hide.
Had I been in a better state I might have appreciated the sight.
She was tall, even with me sitting I could tell, she had to be at least five ten. Her jaw was square and her lips were a perfect Cupid’s bow. A small diamond stud sat on the left side of her nose. Thick, wavy, dark brown hair pulled up into a high ponytail that snaked down and over her shoulder. I blinked before bringing my eyes to meet hers. Smokey eyeshadow outlined her round eyes and her irises were a deep liquid chocolate.
“Thanks,” I coughed out, snatching the glass out of her grasp. My eyes broke contact as I tossed the whiskey back. “Another,” I barked.
Her face was impassive. Her jaw didn�
��t even tick. If my gruffness bothered her, it didn’t show at all. She pulled the bottle out without looking away from me. I’d say her stare was dead, but there was something in her eyes. When the light caught them just right there was a hint of a gold gleam behind the brown. It almost freaked me the fuck out. Something about that glint twisted my insides, and not in a pleasant way. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. My mind ran wild as the alcohol hit my bloodstream. It was strange. Maybe she was a werewolf. Or vampire. Sure, those could be real, right?
Maybe I was really in Hell and she was the dark angel coming to take my soul home.
Man, I was fucking losing it. Vampires? Really?! My grip on reality was slipping and I wasn’t even nearly drunk enough to use that as an excuse.
I broke eye contact and looked down at the freshly poured liquid slowly rippling against the glass. I quickly threw it down in one swallow and I refused to look back at her. I didn’t want to talk. I didn’t want to know her name. I didn’t want to even know what the hell she thought about me. I just wanted to be left alone.
With her hand still clenched around the neck of the bottle, she slowly started to drag it off the bar top.
“Leave it,” I said, gravelly and low.
She paused and the air stilled between us. I realized then how I must look. Unkempt beard. Hair past my shoulders. A shirt that was probably a few days old and wrinkled as fuck. I was sure I didn’t smell all that great, too, but I’d somehow gotten used to my own stench and couldn’t even tell how bad it was anymore.
I pulled out my wallet from my back pocket, the stool wobbling a bit as I did. I slapped a hundred dollar bill on the hardwood next to the bottle. My head remained down, I didn’t even care about her reaction. Though, I didn’t miss how she turned gracefully and walked back to the opposite end of the bar; her round ass unhidden in her tight, black jeans. If it were a different time, or I was a different man…
I had no idea how much time passed as I slowly drained the bottle, one glass at a time. A haze fell over the world and my body felt numb. I pushed all the thoughts of my life out of my mind with every sip, every hard swallow. I relished in the burn as it went down and I welcomed the oblivion it brought with it.
Turning the bottle completely upside down, I drained the last drops. One. Two. Three. I counted in my head as they dripped into the last shot in the glass. I set the bottle back upright, feeling as empty as it was.
After I took the last bit into my mouth, my head felt too heavy to hold up. I pushed the glass away then rested my forearms on the cool edge of the bar as the room spun and it took everything in me to stay upright. I knew I wouldn’t be driving home. I just had to make it to the backseat of my truck but I had a feeling that was going to be a struggle. I decided that I just needed a few minutes to regain myself enough to stand and walk upright.
So I put my head in my hands, and that was the last thing I remembered.
CHAPTER NINE
Nadya
Fuck!
This was not good.
He walked into my bar.
My fucking target was mere feet in front of me. He could see me. Again, this was not good.
Outside I was a mask of cool, but inside my anxiety skyrocketed. I did not like to be seen. I was a fly on the wall. A shadow. And now I was going to be front and center having to serve the fucker. I kept telling myself that there was no way he could know who I was. For all I could tell, he didn’t even really see me anyway.
He barked out his order, his voice sounded strained, like it almost hurt him to talk.
I stood there, taking him in up close as slyly as I could. The cameras I had installed were not that great. I could see him, track his movements, but I couldn’t really make out what he truly looked like. He was fucking big, no, massive. When he walked in he filled the whole doorway and his legs were so thick that I could make out the muscles even under his jeans. His chest was wide and firm, filling out his wrinkled shirt and the cuffs of the arms strained around his biceps. I could count the squares of his ab muscles. Even I was a bit intimidated. Who the hell was this guy? And more importantly, why did I even care?
He was a job.
Sure, it was a job that I was currently stalling on. But why? I didn’t have an answer for that.
I tried to shake the uncertainty of it all as I poured his drink. He didn’t once look up at me. Until he reached for his drink, that was. My fingers felt like they were in glue and I couldn’t pull them away from the glass. He noticed and I watched as his gaze swept over me and when his eyes met mine, I had a strong urge to suck in a deep breath. I held my ground though and showed no reaction. But something in his steel gray eyes made me sad. It gutted me and broke my heart all at the same time. Before me sat a man who was broken, and didn’t even care to try and hide it.
For the first time ever, I felt something I had never felt.
I wanted to know more.
I wanted to know his story.
But that was ridiculous, and I knew it because knowing wouldn’t change anything. This was going to end one way, and one way only. He was a job. Just like every other one had been. Knowing him, seeing him, wouldn’t change that, no matter how much the curiosity tugged at my insides.
After a few beats, he dropped his gaze from mine. His expression unreadable. He seemed unaffected by me, yet tripped up by something. I hated not being able to read people. So, I just tossed it up to the fact that he was a drunk and that alcohol was the only thing that mattered to him. I gave him what he wanted without a second thought.
When he told me to leave the bottle, I hesitated for a second. Not sure why, though. I cared about few things in life, and he was not one of them. If he wanted to drink himself into oblivion, then fuck if I gave a shit. That would make him an easier target because as everyone knew, drunk men didn’t move as fast.
I did my best to not watch him as he sat there. Over the next two hours, he drained the bottle. Like completely empty, making sure to get every last drop.
A few times I caught myself blatantly staring at him, but luckily he was too lost in his own head to notice. I took in everything that he did, filing it away in my mind for some strange reason. The way his movements were slow and almost lazy. The way his tongue would dart out to lick his full bottom lip after each swallow. The way his brows were constantly pinched together. He seemed like a man who hated the world and at the same time appreciated it for all its jagged pieces. Like he knew just how broken life could be but he wasn’t sure how to put it back together. The sadness radiated off him like a thick poison and I found myself feeling a heaviness in my heart as well. It was a strange feeling, one that I wasn’t fond of and I had no clue what to do with.
I didn’t feel sorry for him but I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was that I did feel. Maybe it was more of wanting to know the man behind the dirty shield of hair. What was it that he was hiding from? Or maybe he was running?
I wondered what it was that made him leave the house that night. Why was today different from the rest? He’d never come in here before, I knew because he was home all those times I wasn’t working. Because I was watching. The only time he seemed to leave the cabin was when he ran out of alcohol and then it was just a quick trip to the liquor store before he was back in his same spot on the couch. He had done the same thing for almost a month now. Sure there was the occasional grocery bag, but he hardly ate or did anything other than drink. So what made this night different?
I guessed it didn’t matter because I was never going to ask him anyway. I had to keep my distance as best as I could. The bar was closing soon and that would be the end of this tortuous up-close encounter. He would go back to being in front of the screen and I would be the person behind the curtain. Hidden. Unseen. Right where I was comfortable.
But then he passed out on the bar, the empty bottle next to his head. It was last call and the bar was mostly clear. What the hell was I going to do? I couldn’t just leave him there but he was too big for me to try and
move by myself, and I wasn’t even sure where to move him to. If his truck was outside I could put him in it. But what if he woke up, still drunk and tried to drive. I wouldn’t put that shit on anyone. Sure, the town was quiet at this time of night and the chances of anyone being on the road were slim. However, slim was even too much for me.
“What you gonna do about that one?” Kevin, one of the regulars who seemed to be there nearly every night I worked, asked jutting his head to the massive lump at the other end of the bar.
“Fuck,” I said blowing out an aggravated breath. “Can you guys, drag him upstairs?”
Kevin looked over at Will who was sitting next to him, like always, and they shared an uneasy look.
“You sure that’s a good idea?” Will asked.
It wasn’t a good idea—like at all and I had no idea why the fuck I’d even suggested it.
“Yeah, let me lock up and I’ll follow you out the back.”
After much grunting and pausing, Will and Kevin managed to get him up the narrow stairs and into my apartment. They walked over to the bed and practically dropped him to the mattress on the floor. He landed with a thud and a muffled grunt and I was surprised when he didn’t go crashing all the way through the floor. Will bent at the waist, trying to catch his breath. Even in the dark room, I could see he’d broken out in a heavy sweat.
“I don’t know ‘bout leavin’ you here alone with him,” Kevin said sounding winded.
I shrugged, not offering up anything. I could take care of myself—not that they knew that—so, I wasn’t worried at all. Besides he would more than likely be out cold for the next few hours. I didn’t even let myself wonder about what would happen when he did wake.