Without hanging up, she hugged me.
“What happened?” I frowned at her.
“I’ll see you soon,” she said into the phone, and hung up before she focused on me. “Turns out it was a panic attack. The doctor will be by to talk to me before he releases me.” She clasped my hand. “I’m glad you got here before him, so you can take me right home.”
I swallowed the anger threatening to explode. She couldn’t have called me, my phone was dead, so she couldn’t have called. But there was someone I needed to call. I picked up the room phone and dialed the Marked Man, the only phone number I had memorized.
Rock answered and as soon as I identified myself said, “Lila, you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m here, but my phone’s dead so I wanted to check in. I’ll pick up a charger tonight and call back.”
“Call Dare. He’s—”
“Phone’s dead. Don’t know his number, but I’ll call tonight.”
Melody poked my arm. “Hang up, the doctor’s here. He’s sooo cute.”
“Bye, Rock.” I put the phone back in its cradle.
An hour later we headed to Melody’s house. We’d have been on the road a lot sooner, if she hadn’t spent so much time flirting with the doctor who clearly had a wedding band on his hand.
I pulled into a parking spot in front of a row of town houses. I walked inside her all-white living room. The only color came from one abstract painting over her fireplace. I sat down, and thought about how to tell her I needed to leave. I couldn’t stand an hour more of her company.
“Promise me, you’ll go to the doctor with me on Monday.” Melody grabbed my hands in hers. “I can’t face it alone.”
“I have responsibilities, a job. I can’t be gone so long.” From Dare, I added in my mind.
“You can find any job like the dead-end one you have now.” She waved away my objection. “I’m torn up and I need you—my only family—here with me.”
I remembered the regret that consumed me when I thought she might be dying. I had to face this and find peace with her. I sighed, wishing so badly to walk out the door, but some obligations needed to be tended.
“When’s the appointment Monday?”
She clapped her hands with a huge smile. “At ten, so early. You can be back to Yardly before nighttime.”
I didn’t correct the name of the town.
“Go get your bag, silly. We have to get ready for dinner.” Her eyes were lit with excitement.
“I didn’t bring a bag, just jumped in the car and came.”
What an idiot I am!
“You’ll have to squeeze into mine.” She patted my shoulder. “Not that you probably had clothes nice enough for the restaurant we’re going to.”
She dressed me like a mini-me version of her in a green sweater set too tight for my chest and khaki pants loose in the waist and too tight in the ass, but I didn’t care what anyone thought. I needed to get a charger and survive until Monday.
Late that night, we parked in her garage without a new charger for my phone so I used hers to leave a message at the shop telling the guys I’d be back Monday afternoon. Then I went to bed, and hoped I’d sleep until Monday.
By Sunday night, Melody’s insults no longer bounced off me. I was done with her barbs about my overdramatic youth and wasted life.
“Our father didn’t give me a choice but to run. He spent three years beating me bloody, even breaking my arm.” My voice shook and I breathed in and out, trying to find calm.
“Daddy told me about your cries for attention. How you’d convinced the police to investigate him when you broke your arm. What happened to you?” Melody made soft tsking noises at me.
Anger burst inside me but I didn’t yell. However, it did clear my vision. The sister I remembered was gone, or she never existed. I’d keep my promise and go in the morning, but when I left I’d never come back.
Dare’s words replayed in my mind. I’m your family, Red.
He was the only family I needed, and tomorrow I’d go home to him and never see Melody again.
Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.
* * *
“You have to ride with me, drive me home,” Melody wheedled for the tenth time.
“Let’s go.” I headed to my SUV, ignoring another round of complaining. I needed to escape right after the doctor appointment.
We were ushered into the doctor’s office within minutes of Melody checking in. The posh décor shouted money, no doubt this doctor catered to the haves of the world.
A man in his midforties introduced himself as Dr. Whitcomb. We sat down and he bestowed a kind smile that reached his eyes. Instantly, I liked him.
“Ms. Braham, the c-word is scary, but in your case, your early stage cervical cancer is very manageable.” He handed Melody a box of tissues.
She’d told me ovarian cancer, not cervical cancer.
“The most traumatic part for a young woman like you will be the full hysterectomy, but I don’t foresee any radiation or chemotherapy.”
She dabbed her eyes and clasped my hand. I wanted to move away, but I didn’t.
“It’s so devastating, but my sister will be staying to take care of me during my treatment. And I’m on a paid medical leave from the bank until I’m cancer free.”
This was news to me.
His face went blank. “Well it’s very generous of your sister and your employer, but most patients manage fine with the surgery and a three-week recovery period after.”
I smiled at the doctor and my sister. “Thank you, Dr. Whitcomb, I’m relieved you’re in charge of Melody’s care. Unfortunately, I’m unable to stay with my sister. She’s overwrought and I’m sure she forgot. I have to leave, now.”
I hadn’t taken three steps before Melody shouted, “You’re staying with me.” I kept walking to the door. “You don’t even have a real job.” She screeched the words as I walked down the hall toward the waiting area and my car.
I was on the interstate before I realized I’d never picked up a phone charger.
I’d be home soon.
You don’t even have a real job. Daddy told me about your cries for attention. The words circled inside, bringing me low. I tried not to believe them, but part of me always thought if I’d been different—a blonde like Melody—he wouldn’t have hit me. But I looked like my dead mother, and I paid for the sin.
Unsettled and ready for comfort, I parked in front of Marked Man. In the shorts and T-shirt I’d worn Friday, I walked in the front door of the shop.
Chapter Twenty-Three: Dare
Friday afternoon
Jericho and I packed up the truck and Curly was ready to leave for the lake. I couldn’t wait for this weekend with Red. Memories of our last trip had revved me up, so I’d packed some special toys.
My phone rang, but I’d left it on the chair. I hopped over the side of the pickup but it quit ringing before I got there. Red’s number flashed on the caller ID, but her phone went to voice mail when I called back. I left a message. “I’ll be there in twenty. Can’t wait for the trip.”
Curly and Jericho headed out, but I drove back to the shop for my last client. When I walked in, Red wasn’t in the front, and the place felt too quiet. In the back, Zayn and Rock stood talking but both turned and stared at me.
“What’s up with you two?” I frowned. “And where’s Red?”
“Gone.” Zayn said. “Her sister is in the hospital and she’s headed to Oklahoma City now.”
What the hell? It must’ve been real bad news, but that didn’t explain why she hadn’t called back.
“You haven’t heard from her? She said she’d call you.” Zayn scuffed his shoe on the floor.
“Would I be fucking asking you if I’d talked to her? She didn’t even leav
e a message when she called.” Anger filled me. I turned and kicked the trash can across the room. My heart pounded and the first signs of panic clutched me. No way, I shut that down—I was done with panic attacks.
She knows the rules, call, leave a message.
I flicked my phone and brought up her number, calling again as I stared at the two guys. “Straight to voicemail.” I waited for the beep. “Best fucking call me, Red, now.”
The door jingled and I pointed at Rock. He hurried up to the front and brought the client back. I buried my anger and shoved my phone in my pocket so I could focus, nothing cleared my head like working.
Mason wanted those stupid angel wings on his back, but it wasn’t my back. I prepped his skin and laid the transfer down before I began with the needle and ink. I focused on how the wings fluttered and the tattered edges of feathers. I checked my phone during the break, but nothing from Red. Anger and worry mixed in a sour sludge in my gut. Was she okay? And why hadn’t she asked me to go with her? I hated thinking of her out there alone dealing with all her baggage and her sister. She needed someone to have her back.
Rock took care of checking Mason out while I paced the workroom, but the walls started to close in on me. “I’m headed up to her place. Call me if you hear from her.”
I paced the living room, debating what to do. If I knew the hospital, the sister’s name, something, then I could go to her, but even then, not for hours. Jericho was on the road, and he’d have to direct me in, even if I knew where the hell she was.
This was exactly the reason I didn’t do people, you couldn’t count on them. That Red’s inconsiderate ass still hadn’t called pissed me off and reminded me how weak I really was. A hole had formed where my stomach should be from the gnawing fear trying to spread.
Heading to the kitchen for a pop, I saw her phone charger on the counter and her bag on the floor.
Motherfucker, no charger. I bet her phone is dead. How could she be so irresponsible?
I threw the charger into the wall. It cracked and fell to the floor in pieces, but it didn’t satisfy me, just made me more furious since this proved I wouldn’t be able to reach her anytime soon.
A knock sounded and Rock walked in looking like he’d rather be gutted than be here.
“She called the shop just now, I tried to—”
I moved toward the door, needing to get to the phone—to Red.
“She hung up before Zayn could even call you.” Rock stood braced for a punch.
He thought I would hit him. I wanted to, because the rage made me want to fight, to hurt, to burn the world down.
“She made it, is safe. That’s all I got before she hung up.”
“Did she even fucking ask for me?” I hated asking that question.
“Her sister interrupted her, the doctor came in and she was gone almost before she’d said hello.” Rock looked away from me.
I nodded, holding tight to my rage. “Go on, I’ll see you Monday. If she fucking calls again, remind her I’m alive and would like to be called.”
He hurried out of the apartment, slamming the door closed behind him. I stomped out after him, remembering to lock the door. I revved the bike’s motor and sped away, pushing it past its normal limits. I needed the speed to blow away the anger, but it didn’t work. At the club, I grabbed bottles of whiskey and headed for my room. I left a message for Jericho, telling him we wouldn’t be there, and then I opened the first bottle of whiskey.
Somewhere near the third bottle, I started thinking of all the things that could go wrong. Her car could quit, her sister could screw with her, she could get carjacked, she could be in a damn accident—the list of dangers was endless. Normally I loved danger, but not when I couldn’t be there, be sure everything worked out. I stumbled out into the empty hall and pounded my head against the wall, trying to shut out the visions of Red hurt and bloody.
“Fear is for fucking losers,” I shouted, and threw the whiskey bottle down the hall, but the shattering sound of glass hitting the floor did nothing to satisfy the nasty mix of shit churning inside me.
What right did she have making me depend on her, want her, and then disappear without a word?
* * *
Monday morning, Jericho kicked down my door, waking me up. I’d spent the whole weekend drinking until I passed out. The dark oblivion had been the only time my fucking mind didn’t try to turn me weak.
“Damn this room stinks,” he complained. “Get your ass up and in the shower. You have clients in two hours and your girl is headed home. You shouldn’t look this damn pathetic.”
The cold anger I’d nursed charged through me, overflowing into a righteous rage.
“Fuck off,” I grumbled, and headed to the shower.
Once I felt half human I left the club, making it to the shop about ten minutes ahead of my appointment, a quick touch-up and planning session for a new piece. I was just finishing up when the front door jingled and I heard her voice. That dark hole in me laughed at the way I longed to hear more of her voice—earthy and sensual.
She walked in with a sad air then stared into my eyes with this expression of hope.
Really? She just showed up and wanted to pretend she hadn’t fucked up.
“Angel, honey, show Mack to the front for me. I need to talk with Lila.” I turned from her and that confused expression. “Glad you showed up, finally.”
“I called the shop...my sister was—”
“What’s so fucking difficult to understand? You ain’t here, you call me.” I rounded the table and stalked toward her, my anger taking over. “You didn’t tell me where you were, when you’d show up.”
Her gaze darted to the others—Rock and Weasel stood frozen, and Zayn stood off to the side. She’d get no help there because they knew just as much as me that she’d gone beyond and now she had hell to pay.
“You forget how to dial a goddam phone?” I snarled at her. “You could’ve been dead for all I knew.” Flashes of her dead replayed as if on cue.
“I called, you didn’t answer. My phone died. I only knew the Marked Man—”
“You fucking want your job, follow the fucking rules.” I closed in until I stood inches from her. Smelling her sweet citrus scent, my pulse pounded.
No way she can miss my point now.
A transformation happened in front of me, but not the one I expected. She didn’t crumble with sincere apologies, instead, her spine straightened and fire replaced the disbelief on her face.
The same fire that I always craved filled her now. I’d never wanted to bury myself inside her so much as I did right now. I wanted to strip her, spank her ass and fuck her on my table, making her understand she was mine.
“Step the hell back from me,” she yelled at me. “Move back.”
I faltered, Red didn’t yell, and the swirling hurt in her narrowed eyes was a wake-up call. I paced away from her, trying to get a grip.
“Shit happens. Phones die, sisters are crazy, and so are bikers apparently.” Her voice broke so she paused. “I came home to you, but if I’m not welcome—”
“Goddammit, Red—”
“Stop there, Dare—you cool the fuck off before you speak to me again.” She strode up, standing chest to chest with me.
No one did that and it pissed me off even if I respected her moxie.
“I’m going upstairs, you go collect your shit, and talk to me later.” She moved toward the back door.
“To hell with this.” I stormed out of the shop, pissed she decided she was the wronged one.
Bullshit.
I rode for an hour or so before I headed back to the club, spending the night nursing a bottle and bitching with Jericho. He laughed at me and told me to let it go, but I couldn’t.
She was wrong.
It was simple to say—I f
ucked up. I won’t do it again.
* * *
The next morning I woke up not hungover for the first time in days. As I showered I thought about Red, and those green eyes full of hurt haunted me. I’d been a thousand kinds of pissed off, so I’d gone too far, not even giving her a chance to apologize. With my anger only on a slow burn in my gut, today I could get through this without losing it—give her the chance to talk to me.
With a better attitude, I drove into town and parked. Not even ten yet, so we had plenty of time to talk it out and move right on to the make-up sex I was more than ready for.
I unlocked the door and strode inside. She lay curled on the living room couch. Her red-rimmed eyes opened, looking up at me. It looked like she’d just dropped there, she even had on the same clothes. Fuck, what did I do?
“Shit, Red. Come here.” I waved her toward me.
She shook her head and curled up tighter, hiding her head under her hands. This was how she’d looked after Thorn hit her. My god, I’d beat her up—just not with my fists. Guilt slammed into me and I had to make it right.
“Oh, baby.” I picked her up, hugging her tight to me.
Her arms went around my neck and she squeezed back, leaning into me. Exhaustion lined her face and I wondered if she’d even slept yesterday. I was an asshole for letting my anger run away from me. She hadn’t deserved that.
“I was so worried, but I shouldn’t have laid into you like I did.” I kissed her head and held her. Slowly the tension eased in her muscles and she peeked up at me.
“I should’ve figured out a way to call you back. I’m sorry.” She nuzzled my chest.
Those were the words I’d wanted to hear. “You call, I don’t answer, and you leave a message.” I sat down on the couch with her in my lap. My pulse beat faster thinking of all the things that could’ve gone wrong.
“Yeah, got it.”
“You write my number in your purse, you get it from the guys if you call.” I’d never thought about it, but I didn’t have her number memorized either, so we needed a plan to keep this from happening again. “Don’t leave me a message I don’t get until Monday morning.”
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