Make It Hurt (Texas Bounty)

by Jackie Ashenden

  The sound of Smith’s footsteps faded, the door slamming after him, and it wasn’t pain she felt, no, not at all. It was only relief that the stubborn bastard was finally out of her life.

  Good riddance.

  Her throat hurt, but she ignored it as she went over to her chest of drawers and started rifling through it for clothes.

  Okay, so that was that. Time to go back to her normal life. Hell, maybe it was for the best anyway. She’d tried, she really had, but he wasn’t willing to back down, not on anything, so screw him. If he was expecting her to come crawling after him, he had another think coming.

  Did you really try, though?

  Of course she had. She’d told him she needed a reason to let Dust go, a reason to dump her boss in the shit. All she’d wanted was one. A little one, like maybe he understood the position he’d put her in with Duchess. That he’d listen about why this was so important to her. Or hey, even something like he cared about her feelings.

  That he loves you?

  Her vision swam and she blinked, hard.

  No, no point in thinking things like that. Because he hadn’t said it. Which means he didn’t feel it. He didn’t love her, didn’t listen to her, didn’t give a shit about her.

  Just like every other fucking man in her life.

  Anyway, what she actually needed to be thinking about right now was getting plan B under way, because regardless of what happened between her and Smith, Garrett Brook aka Dust had to be brought to justice and she was just the woman to do it.

  Smith, on the other hand, could go screw himself.

  Chapter 13

  “Sit down, Nora,” Duchess said, eyeing her from behind her desk.

  “No, thanks.” She didn’t want to sit down. She felt antsy and restless and sitting would only be annoying.

  “Sit,” Duchess insisted, frowning. “For God’s sake. You look like hell.”

  Nora stubbornly remained standing. “It’s nothing. I’ve picked up a cold. Do you want to hear about Brook or not?” She’d gotten in touch with Rush and he’d told her that his contacts had located Brook up in Waco. Which was great. Hell, she’d go up and grab him, take Rhys and West just to be certain, then have him back this evening if she was lucky.

  Duchess was silent, icy blue stare disturbingly perceptive. “Something went wrong with Smith, didn’t it?”

  Oh, shit. How had she picked up on that?

  “What do you mean?” Nora asked, hoping the question sounded way less wary than she was afraid it did.

  “Because I know you were sleeping with him and now you’re looking like your best friend just died.”

  “I don’t have a best friend.”

  “Nora.”

  “It’s nothing,” she said, ignoring the pain in her chest at the mention of his name. Because it was nothing, wasn’t it? “It was only a casual hookup.”

  Duchess put down the small stack of papers she’d been holding and leaned her elbows on her desk, her gaze narrowing. “You’ve got dark circles under your eyes, you’re pale, and your eyes are red. It was not a casual hookup.”

  Dammit. She hadn’t cried in the car on the way to work. It had been her allergies playing up again. Stupid pollen. “Look, me and Smith isn’t important. What’s important is that I’ve managed to track Brook down. He’s up in Waco. If I grab West and Rhys, we can go get—”

  “I thought you said Smith was going to hand him over?”

  The pain in her chest deepened, her heart feeling like someone had gone over it with a butcher’s mallet. Smith. All she could think about was how she’d woken up this morning, with her head on his chest and her arms around him, holding him like he was her favorite pillow….

  “Yes, well…” Her voice had gotten a little hoarse. “That didn’t quite work out.”

  Duchess sat back at her desk, her blue eyes somehow managing to be both sharp and understanding at the same time. “It was more than just a hookup, wasn’t it?” she asked quietly.

  Nora sucked in a breath.

  You can’t keep pretending it didn’t happen. You can’t keep pretending, period.

  Yes, she could. She could keep pretending for the rest of her life if she had to.

  But it wasn’t a shrug and a casual “Nope” that came out of her. “You know how I told you I didn’t sleep with him to get the skip? Well…he told me he’d give me Brook if I slept with him. So I did.”

  Duchess opened her mouth. Shut it. Then she clasped her hands on the desk in front of her. “Are you talking blackmail here?” Her tone was carefully neutral.

  “Kind of. I told him he could go to hell at first, that I’d call the cops on him, and he said if I did that, he’d bring down the MC on us. Because of what your dad—”

  “Yes, I get it.” Duchess looked furious, but only said, “Go on.”

  “Anyway, the blackmail wasn’t exactly the problem.” She took a painful breath. “The real problem was that I wanted him. You remember I told you we had a thing years ago? Well, turns out we still have a…thing. And I believed him when he told me he’d give me Brook in exchange for a night.” Another painful breath. “This morning I found out that he’d lied to me. That he never had any intention of giving me the skip. Luckily I had a plan B already, but…” She stopped, bracing herself. “You can tell me ‘I told you so.’ I probably deserve it.”

  But Duchess was silent, staring at her. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

  Nora didn’t move, all her muscles locked up. Of course there was a reason this all hurt so very much, no matter how she tried to deny it. She’d just done her usual thing of pretending it wasn’t there.

  But even now, she didn’t want to say it. Didn’t want to even think about it. Because she had a horrible feeling that if she did, she’d fully realize the magnitude of Smith walking away from her. And then she’d just fall apart completely.

  She couldn’t fall apart. She had to be tough, stay strong.

  There was a long, painful silence.

  Then at last Duchess sighed. “Men,” she said quietly and with great conviction. “They’re bastards. Every single one of them. Bikers not the least of them.”

  “Complete bastards,” Nora agreed thickly.

  “If it’s any consolation, and I know it probably isn’t, he’s the one who’s missed out.” Duchess’s gaze was steady. “You’re loyal, steadfast, and one of the best in this business. And I knew you would be the day I first hired you.”

  Nora found her stupid throat tightening. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

  A small, wistful smile turned the other woman’s mouth. “Don’t let the bastards grind you down, okay?”

  No, she wouldn’t.

  She’d spent the last eight years making sure she was diamond hard. She wasn’t going to let anything crush her into dust and bones now.

  Least of all one hard-ass biker asshole.

  —

  The sky was darkening, the night closing in on yet another MC party.

  From inside the clubhouse music blared, the sounds drifting through to the empty space out back. It had once been a parking lot, bounded by chain-link fences, but now the club used it as an outdoor party space, with giant barbecues and picnic tables and a couple of old sofas chucked here and there for fun.

  One of the brothers had rigged up some flashing colored lights, illuminating the space with reds and greens and blues. Shining on the large group of people, some dancing, some drinking, some fucking. Some doing all three.

  The usual party, in other words.

  Now Smith stood on the edge of the crowd, a beer in his hand, watching everyone else have a good time, while one of the club girls wound her arms around his waist, her hands reaching down the front of his jeans.

  He should have been into it. Hell, at the very least, he should have been hard. It was only polite, after all. Yet he wasn’t into it, he wasn’t hard, and he didn’t give a shit if that wasn’t polite.

  He didn’t want her touching him, end of story
.

  Irritated with himself, he tried to get his head back in the game, while she did her best to get him interested. But after five minutes of pawing, his irritation deepening, he finally brushed away her wandering hands and said curtly, “Sorry, baby. Not now. Go find someone else.”

  She pulled a face and tossed her hair, but then obediently moved away.

  This was bullshit. This whole fucking situation was bullshit.

  And it was all Nora Sutcliffe’s fault.

  Anger sat just behind his breastbone, burning like a hot coal, his stupid fucking brain going over and over the scene in her apartment the day before. The way she’d looked up at him, something yearning in her eyes. “Give me a reason….”

  Christ, the reason she wanted he was never, ever going to give her. Didn’t she know that? Didn’t she understand? Even apart from the fact that the club would always come first for him, the very last thing he was going to do was get down on his knees and pour out his fucking heart to her.

  Not that he had a heart these days. He’d cut that fucker out of his chest years ago, taking out all those stupid, weak emotions that went along with it. Emotions like love. Like gentleness. Tenderness. Sympathy.

  Emotions he had no use at all for.

  Bullshit. Tell yourself that all you like, asshole, but the truth is you’re just afraid of them.

  Smith glared at the partying crowd. The music blared louder and the crowd of dancers roared, all lit up in those stupid colors.

  No, fuck off. Fear was just another of those useless fucking emotions he’d cut out of his life.

  Abruptly the phone in his pocket buzzed and instantly he thought Nora. But when he dragged it out and looked down at the screen, it was Dust.

  His heart tightened inexplicably, making his anger burn hotter.

  He hit the Accept button and growled, “What the fuck do you want?”

  “I need to talk to you, Prez,” Dust said without preamble. “Got a minute?”

  “You are fucking talking to me.”

  A brief pause down the other end of the phone. “Party going on?”

  “Yeah.” Smith moved away from the music blaring over the speakers. “What do you want?”

  “I’ve been thinking about stuff.”

  Smith took a sip of his beer. “Christ, why are you thinking? Nothing good ever comes of thinking, asshole.”

  “I’m serious.” He sounded serious too, his voice quiet.

  Smith gritted his teeth, trying to rein in his bad mood. “Okay, sure. So what’s all this about?”

  “It’s about all the shit I pulled.” Dust let out a long breath. “I’m not happy with how it’s gone down, Prez. Not happy at all.”

  “Yeah, well, you’re not the only one.”

  “I need to make it right.” There was a flat note in his friend’s voice. “I drew heat down on the club at a time when we don’t need it. In fact, that’s the whole reason we’re going straight in the first place, so we can avoid all that civilian shit, right?”

  Smith turned away from the party, looking out through the fence, into the darkness. “What are you saying?”

  “Like I said, I wanna make it right. Club comes first and I lost sight of that.”

  “You had your kid—”

  “I know. But that’s no excuse. I need to set an example, Prez. Both to him and to the brothers. And running away like I did is not the example I wanna set.”

  Smith scowled at the fence in front of him. “What do you mean you want to set an example?”

  Dust was silent a second. Then he said, “Avoiding shit doesn’t solve it. And me avoiding jail is just gonna make things worse for my club and it sure as hell isn’t going to help my son.”

  Something shifted in Smith’s chest, making everything go tight. “If you’re talking about jail, you can fucking think again. I told you, I’m not giving you up. You’re my brother. Fuck, you’re my friend and—”

  “You don’t have to give me up,” Dust interrupted calmly. “I’m going to turn myself in.”

  It had been a long time since Smith felt surprise, let alone shock, but he felt both like a blow to the gut right now. “What?”

  “Don’t make me repeat myself, Prez.” There was amusement in Dust’s voice.

  Fucking hell. The guy was actually serious. “Don’t be so damn stupid,” he growled into the phone. “What about your boy? I said I’d keep you out of this and I meant it.”

  “My boy needs a father who doesn’t run from his responsibilities.” The amusement had vanished. Dust’s voice was flat and hard with certainty. “My president needs a VP who doesn’t fuck up. And my club needs a brother who can take the consequences of his actions.” There was a sound in the background, the creak of leather. “I appreciate what you did for me, Prez. You’re a good friend. But I gotta do what I gotta do.”

  The tightness in Smith’s chest wouldn’t quit and he didn’t know why that was. He didn’t know why he wanted to argue with his friend either. Because he couldn’t deny that Dust turning himself in would get the cops off their back, which would only be a good thing for them right now, because the last thing they needed was the long arm of the law reaching in their direction.

  You dick. You know why you want to argue. Because if Dust turns himself in, there goes your only excuse to keep away from Nora.

  Bullshit. He didn’t need excuses. He just wasn’t prepared to give her what she wanted. And anyway, she hadn’t exactly been tripping over herself to stop him from walking out. She’d let him go without a word. So, no, they were done. Over. The end.

  “Fuck,” Smith said. “Nothing I say’s gonna change your mind, is it?”

  “No.” Dust didn’t sound all that upset about it. “I’ve made my decision. I’ll take whatever’s coming to me. But stay away from Duchess Bail Bonds, okay? This has to come from me and you can’t be involved.”

  An emotion Smith couldn’t figure out was pumping through him, locking every muscle. He was holding tight to the phone like that piece of shit was going to spring out of his hand and yet he couldn’t think of a fucking thing to say.

  There was another long silence. “You’re a good friend, Smith,” Dust said at last. “That means a lot.”

  Smith was sure the metal in his hand creaked under the pressure of his grip. “You start talking like a fucking pussy and I’m not gonna come visit you.”

  Dust laughed. “Sure, Prez. Sure.”

  Then the prick ended the call.

  For a long moment, Smith stared out into the darkness, ignoring the beer in his hand and the party going on around him.

  He couldn’t work out what the fuck was going on with him. This was a good thing, because everything Dust had said was true. Avoiding shit didn’t work, he’d seen that over and over again with his own father, who preferred running away through a river of vodka to actually facing up to the mess of his life.

  Dust was facing up to the consequences of his own actions, setting an example for the good of his club and for his son, and Smith had to respect that.

  His fingers tightened around the neck of his beer bottle. What the hell? Of course he was doing the same. He was setting an example. He’d decided on what he wanted out of life and he went the fuck out and got it.

  But you don’t have the one thing you’re missing.

  Smith turned abruptly from the fence, looking out over the party, over his brothers having a good time. Drinking and dancing and fucking. Being true to their bad selves. He was part of this. This was his family.

  So why isn’t it enough?

  The realization hit him hard, like a mortar shell straight to the chest. And he didn’t understand because it should be enough. This was what he wanted, what he’d always wanted. A family, a house, a job, freedom to be who he was. To do whatever the fuck he wanted without some asshole always telling him what a troublemaker he was, what a piece of dirt, what a piece of garbage.

  It should be enough and yet…Why was there still this big hole in his chest? Why
did he keep on feeling that there was something missing?

  You know why, stop lying to yourself.

  He took a breath, his chest expanding painfully. Yeah, okay, so what was missing was Nora. He could accept that and he had. Shit, he’d accepted it for the past eight years, hadn’t he? And that wasn’t going to change. It couldn’t. Because she wanted something from him he couldn’t and wouldn’t give her.

  Why? Because she broke your heart? Stop being such a fucking little bitch and man up. Dust did. Why can’t you?

  He turned from the bonfire and the partying people, shoving his way through the crowd, back into the clubhouse and toward his office. Needing space, needing quiet, needing just a bit of damn peace.

  It was dark when he stepped inside, but he didn’t bother with the lights, walking over to the windows that overlooked the warehouse below.

  There was a smaller party going on beneath him, mostly brothers relaxing on the couches and talking or playing pool, some with girls, some without.

  The mortar felt like it had exploded in his chest, shattering everything, the shards of his ribs cutting into him from the inside. The pain wouldn’t let him go and neither would the memory of the hope in Nora’s gaze as she’d looked up at him, that gold dust in her eyes glittering. Wanting something from him, hoping for it, yearning for it.

  But he hadn’t given it to her. He hadn’t wanted to. He’d done it once before and she’d left him hanging. Just like his own fucking father had left him hanging.

  And now you’re doing to her what your father did to you. What her own father did to her. Is that what you really want?

  That wasn’t even a question. Because no, that wasn’t what he wanted. At all. He’d told her she deserved everything, and he’d meant it. Because she did. She was courageous and determined and stubborn and strong, and she deserved everything good the world could give her.

  She deserves love too.

  He raised the beer in his hand for a swallow then realized his hand was shaking.

  Of course she did. She deserved that most of all. But he didn’t know if he could do that. Didn’t know if he could open himself up like that again. It was like handing someone a loaded gun and then telling them they could shoot you whenever they felt like it.