“I’ll deal with it when I get back,” he says, his tone suddenly cold and matter of fact instead of the guy who just had me wrapped up against him dancing under the stars. It sort of gives me whiplash.
The rest of our run back to the clubhouse is done silently, and that’s probably best since I can’t fucking breathe. I’m wheezing and trying to suck in air when we stop outside the clubhouse door. I bend over with my hands on my thighs, breathing so hard I sort of want to throw up all the chicken I just ate.
Connor looks at me in concern. “Are you going to be okay?” His voice takes on that sensual quality it gets when we’re alone, and even as I can’t breathe and I don’t know what’s going on, my body responds. My nipples tighten, and my legs tremble.
Though that last part might be because of the run.
I nod because I can’t actually talk yet. “I’ve gotta go, but I’ll find you when I get back,” he says as he backs away toward his bike. “And we’re going to talk about your cardio,” he calls back to me, and I wince. I don’t care how hot Connor is; I’m not adding regular runs into my life.
Nope.
I watch—now only slightly wheezy—as Connor climbs on his bike and takes off into the night. I imagine if he were to become a regular part of my life after the Reign of Chaos, I’d spend a lot of nights like this, watching him drive off into some unknown danger and not knowing what’s happening or when he’ll be back.
Or if he’ll be back.
I don’t really know how to feel about or process that right now, so I shove it to the back of the list of shit to figure out and climb the stairs to the main clubhouse. Just before I get to the front door, an idea hits me like a ton of bricks, and I slant my gaze toward the deserted garage.
I never get the chance to snoop because my time is always accounted for or someone’s around. Right now, Brutal and Poison are laid up, Bomber’s out, and the garage is shut down. The only one I really need to worry about is Vandal, and if I have any luck at all, he’ll be balls deep inside one of the Cunt Club and not at all worried about what I’m up to.
Lola’s covering for me, and as far as everyone’s concerned, I’m out with Connor.
Decision made, I tiptoe down the stairs and hurry across the open space between the buildings. It’s night and dark as hell out here, but that doesn’t mean someone isn’t watching or wouldn’t notice my movement.
I can’t just roll the big door up because the metal on metal is noisy as hell, so I shift around to the side door, hoping it’s unlocked. If it isn’t, I don’t have anything on me to try and break-in, and even if I did, someone might notice if I tamper with the handle.
Thankfully, the door handle turns easily, and I slip inside the building. It’s dark, but I’ve got my phone tucked in my back pocket, so I take it out and turn on the flashlight. I shine it around briefly to make sure I’m really alone in here, but it’s silent enough I can hear my own heart crashing around in my chest, so I take a few cautious steps over to where the guys keep their tools.
Sliding open a couple of drawers, I don’t find anything other than wrenches and other bullshit they use to work on the club bikes. Frustrated, I spin on my heel and head to the other side of the building where the club used to keep their spare parts and storage. Bomber has an old bike stored in here he’s always talking about wanting to fix, but his lazy ass hasn’t done anything with it in years.
I don’t see a bike right away, but I do notice a few things covered with what looks like an old sheet, so I lift it up and peek underneath. When I see the battered bike underneath, I move closer, running my flashlight over every inch. It looks like you’d expect a hunk of metal and leather left to decay in the back corner of a biker’s garage would, but it does still have saddlebags attached.
Before I can talk myself out of it, my hand is already inside, digging around. My fingers wrap around what feels like a plastic baggie, and I pull it out, holding it up to the light and trying to figure out what the hell I’m looking at.
It looks like some kind of rock or crystals, and I’m almost one hundred percent sure it’s drugs. I set it aside and stick my hand back into the storage compartment on Bomber’s old bike and find it filled almost to the brim with matching baggies. If I had to guess, I’d say this is his drug stash, but then there’s so much here that seems unlikely.
I check the other side and find it filled, too, with the same shit, so I bend down and pocket the baggie I pulled out so I can show Connor when he gets back. I’m relieved that I actually managed to do something that might be helpful. If I can help my brother and my… whatever Connor is, figure out what’s going on with those old fuckers even better.
There isn’t much else to search through in here. I know there’s nothing up in my loft because I’ve already sorted through everything up there, so I hurry out the side door, turning off my flashlight before I step outside. I make sure it doesn’t look like anything’s been disturbed and then rush back to the clubhouse.
To not look like a complete psycho, I take a couple of deep breaths before I go inside, though. It’s surprisingly quiet out here tonight, and it doesn’t look like the party’s really gotten started yet inside, so I have a rare second to myself.
Smoothing down my hair, I suck in one last breath before blowing it out while I push the doors open and step inside. The place smells like old cigarette smoke—the kind that gets embedded in the walls and won’t come out with anything less than a wrecking ball or a gas can and matches.
Lola frowns when she sees me but then waves me over. I don’t have to work the bar tonight, but I’m not sure what else to do with myself. I have a serious restless energy going on right now. I think it’s leftover adrenaline from the sneaking around I just did, but there’s also a good chance it’s because I feel so unsteady when it comes to my feelings for Connor.
I want him to want me and no one else, but I also don’t know if I can handle being someone’s girlfriend right now with the way my life is. It’s frustrating as hell, and I’m so ready to figure my shit out.
As I take one of the barstools, I decide I’m going to talk to Connor tonight when he gets back and figure out exactly what he thinks is going on between us and what he wants to happen going forward. I’ve never felt about anyone the way I do about him. While it scares the absolute shit out of me, I’m starting to realize that that’s what makes life worth living—all those experiences that remind you you’re here and alive and taking chances.
The more I think about it, the more I realize Connor’s a chance I want to take. If he wants me, that is. I’ve been spending so much time shutting down my emotions because I was afraid to get attached and then be disappointed—or worse, betrayed—again that I’ve been pushing him away when I really didn’t need to.
Sitting up straighter, I feel lighter than I have in weeks. Things are starting to turn around for me, I can feel it, and I’m ready to jump in the deep end and see what happens. My heart speeds up as I think over the possibilities and wait for Lola to finish up with Ruin.
Ruin looks my way and gives me a nod before heading over to Savage’s usual corner booth, though I don’t see my brother there yet.
“Aren’t you supposed to be out getting banged under the stars?” Lola asks, sliding me a vodka cranberry across the bar top.
“God, I wish. Co-” I catch myself and sip my drink to give me a second for the heat in my cheeks to die down. Shit, I almost said his name. “Shadow had some kind of family emergency or something, and he had to bail.”
“Damn, well, maybe he’ll be back early enough to salvage the night.” That’s Lola for you. She’s the most positive person I’ve ever met in my entire life, which I guess doesn’t say much since I’ve been stuck in this shithole for most of it. She stiffens and then leans forward to murmur, “Heads up, the C-Club is on their way over in full, skanky force.”
This should be good. I take a gulp of my drink to bolster my defenses. Look, I don’t use the word “cunt” against other women l
ightly, but these four? They’ve earned every damn letter in the word and more. They’re the worst sort of women imaginable. You know the kind. The ones who are catty and mean, who tear you down because they’re jealous, and who’ll do everything in their power to make you feel inferior even though they’re definitely not better than you are in any way.
Yeah, that’s what we’ve been dealing with, with Crystal, Chastity, Candy, and Jade.
It’s Jade that strikes first, and she sidles up next to me, her long, dark hair falling down her back and her green eyes looking me up and down as if she’s weighing my worth. She wrinkles her nose and sneers like she finds me lacking. “Shadow get tired of you already, Gigi?”
“I thought that already happened last week when he was in my bed,” Candy unhelpfully adds, and even though I know she’s lying, there’s a small part of me that has doubts.
“He was never in your bed, Candy. Don’t be a bitch,” Lola snaps, and I shoot her a grateful smile. She may be the nicest one of us, but she’s still here in the ROC. She can throw down if she needs to.
“Oh? So I just imagined that piercing he has then and how it hits all the best places?” She smirks at me like she knows she’s hit a fucking bullseye, and maybe she has. If she hasn’t seen Connor naked, how the hell would she know his dick is pierced?
“Sorry to tell you, sweetie, but we’ve all had him since he’s been here. You didn’t think all those times you were in your loft drawing or working late nights here at the bar, he was just sitting around waiting for you, did you?” Chastity looks at me with pity before flipping her hair over her shoulder in that expert way that only the bitchiest girls can seem to do.
“At least now you know. You can stop following him around like a pathetic little puppy begging for scraps of his attention,” Crystal says, and the four of them start laughing. It sounds more like they’re cackling, and honestly, that fits. They’re evil hags, and as much as I don’t want to admit it, their words fucking sting.
“You all know nothing, so why don’t you go spread your legs for some of these vile club brothers? Your time’s better spent trying to secure your spot as someone’s old lady before your looks dry up, and you’re left with a used-up body and have nothing else to offer.” My voice is nearly emotionless as I’ve learned to make it over the years dealing with these women. If they sense they’ve gotten to me, they’ll really go in for the kill, and I’m not sure my heart can take it right now.
Normally, I’d easily dismiss their claims as complete bullshit. I know they’ve been after Connor since they first laid eyes on him, and they’ve wanted to dig their claws in ever since. But Candy’s comment about his piercing is tripping me up. I desperately want to ask him if it’s true, but I just as badly don’t want to know the answer.
I can accept that he has a past because I do, too. But if he’s been with any of the four women currently sauntering toward my brother’s table like they’re going in for the kill, there’s no way I can be with him. I just can’t. It’s not something I can get over, and I don’t know what to do with the things they said.
I need time to think, so after a quick goodbye to a worried-looking Lola, I trudge up to my room. It’s quiet, and I realize it’s lonely in here. It never felt like that before. Before, it was my sanctuary, but now all I can see is the emptiness where Connor should be, and more than anything else, that scares me. I really don’t want to have to pick up the pieces of my own broken heart if he did what the Cunt Club claims.
So, what the hell am I going to do?
My stomach twists into knots as I stare at the empty side of the bed Gigi usually sleeps on. Last night, when I got back from chasing Bomber all over goddamn Las Vegas with nothing to show for it, she was already in her room. She barely opened the door a crack to tell me she was going to sleep in her own bed.
I know it was fucked up of me to bail on her like I did, but I thought she understood I'm doing all of this for her and for her brother. I'm not even trying to kid myself into believing that my original goal is even a factor anymore. As long as I can keep her safe and get her the hell out of here, I'll be more than ready to go back to my regular life and leave the Reign of Chaos in the rearview mirror.
As long as Savage keeps the club out of the kidnapping and sex trafficking bullshit, that is.
If I have my way and Gigi gives me what I want, she'll be walking out of this place and straight into my life. I want her in my house, in my bed. I want to come home to her after a long day and bury myself inside her and forget about the rest of the world. I could get lost in her so easily, forget the darkness inside and the constant need to balance it out by doing right in the world. By protecting people who can't protect themselves.
I need Gigi. I'm not giving up on her even if she pushes me away. Even if she says she wants nothing to do with me and screams at me to go, I won't. She belongs by my side, and I'll do whatever I have to do to prove it to her.
Right now, that means figuring out what the hell I did wrong so I can fix it. If she won't let me in and she won't talk to me, there are other options. I get out of bed and run my fingers through my unruly curls. I'm sure my hair's a mess, so I pull on a black baseball hat to match my black jeans and t-shirt. Boots are last, and I make a quick stop in the bathroom.
I fight back my grin when I see Lola in the kitchen this morning working on breakfast. Gigi has to talk to somebody, and I know it sure as fuck isn't her brother. That only leaves me, Lola, and Tiffany. As far as I've been able to tell, she's not close with anyone else.
"Morning," I drawl, and Lola jumps and spins around to face me with her hand on her chest and her eyes wide.
"Shadow! Jesus, wear a bell or something." She says, and I chuckle. "Now I see where you get your road name."
"Sorry, I'll try to make more noise next time." I reach up and grab a mug, filling it up. I decide to cut straight to the chase. Lola doesn't seem she'd need me to coax the truth out of her. She's the type of girl who roots for the happily ever after, and I'm banking on her helping me out without much effort on my part. Hopefully, I'm not reading her wrong.
"Hey, do you know anything about why Gigi might be avoiding me? I get the feeling she doesn't want to see me."
Lola stills, the batter she was mixing forgotten about as she turns back to me. "What gives you that feeling?"
"Well, when I got back last night, she barely said two words to me before shutting her door in my face." I don't tell her about how Gigi's been in my bed every night for weeks, so her missing a night is a big deal. I don't know how much she confides in the other girls, and I'm not about to share our private time with anyone.
Lola's shoulders slump. "I was afraid of that. Look, after you ditched her for whatever emergency you had going on, the full force of the Cunt Club descended on her at the bar. They spouted all sorts of bullshit about how they've been fucking you while she's working or while you say you're out doing something else. She was taking it in stride until Candy mentioned some details about your…" Her eyes flick to my dick, and my whole body tenses up.
"Details?" I grind out between clenched teeth. My heart pounds in my chest as my hands curl into fists. I'm so pissed off I can hardly think straight, and a haze is starting to take over my mind.
"Something about a piercing? I didn't really hear all that well," she says, and no fucking wonder Gigi wants nothing to do with me. I don't even want to know how those women found out I had it, but if I was to take a stab in the dark, it'd be that they broke into my room and planted a camera.
I rip my phone out of my pocket and shoot off a text to Sebastian. I need to know if there's anything in my room still, and he'll know what to do to find it.
"Shit, that makes sense why she'd be avoiding me then." I tuck my phone back into my pocket and scrub my hands down my face. "Thanks for telling me even if it breaks some sort of girl code," I tell her, and she waves me off.
"You don't seem like the kind of guy who fucks around on your girl. I see the way you look at ou
r Gigi. No way did you touch any of the others."
"Yeah, too bad Gigi doesn't have your faith in me." I pick up my coffee and take a sip, attempting to calm my anger to a more manageable level. If I can find whatever they might've planted in my room, I can show Gigi and prove to her I'm not what she's thinking I am right now.
"Life's been rough on Gigi, Shadow. You can't blame her when her worst fears pop up in front of her, and she believes them," Lola defends her friend, and I feel like an asshole for the irritation I'd been feeling toward Gigi for thinking I'd ever treat her like that.
My shoulders sag, all the anger deflating out of me. Now all I feel is sick to my stomach that Gigi's holed up in her room thinking the worst of me, hurting because of me.
Lola steps closer and pats me on the shoulder. "You'll make it right, and she'll come around."
Having said all she needs to, she goes back to mixing the batter, and I take my mug back upstairs. Before I go into my room, I check my phone. Sebastian's sent me a link for an app he designed that'll scan the room for recording devices. I quickly install it and then push into the room.
My eyes dart around as I walk the perimeter with my phone in my hand. It lights up red over by my dresser, and I lean closer, looking at every little crack and chip in the wood until I find a tiny camera tucked between two of the drawers.
Motherfuckers.
I'm tempted to crush it, but before I do, I want to show Gigi. I can only hope this fucking thing doesn't have audio because I can't remember if I've ever said anything incriminating about who I really am or why I'm really here while I was in the room.
At least I'd been smart enough not to call my team while in the building. I can't believe I've been so goddamn stupid, and my whole body is trembling with rage as I stalk out into the hall. I'll deal with the slutty lunatics who planted the damn thing in my room later.
Now that I know how easy it is to get in—so easy that untrained sweet butts are capable of it, not to mention when Saint stole my laptop—I need to be even more vigilant to keep shit locked down.
Captive: A Bodyguard Romance (Hollywood Guardians Book 1) Page 18