by A Parker
Clearly, neither of us were in the right frame of mind to talk about all this.
“I fucked up, Jackson. I let Bates into my apartment. If I’d used my head for a fucking second I would have known to look out the peephole first. I would have been able to warn you or at least get away. Instead I was an absolute idiot and I almost got you killed.”
“Sam.”
“Don’t try to coddle me,” I said fiercely. “I don’t need you to walk on eggshells and try to make me feel better because I know this is my fault.”
His eyes searched mine, and eventually he shrugged. “Fine. It’s your fault.”
I stared incredulously at him.
Jackson actually had the nerve to smile at me. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”
No.
“Look Sam,” he said, cupping my face with one bandaged hand, “I make more mistakes than I make good choices. Always have. But mistakes are only mistakes in hindsight. In the moment you were doing what any woman has a right to do. You were just living your life. You were waiting for me. Bates took advantage of that. The only one to blame for this is him. Not you. Do you believe that?”
More tears fell. “I want to.”
“So believe it,” he whispered.
“It’s not that simple.”
“It is. You didn’t start that fire. You didn’t hit me with a baseball bat. You didn’t hurt anyone. In no way, shape, or form could this ever be your fault. If you need me to tell you that every day for the rest of your life, then I will.”
Who on earth was Jackson Black?
On one hand, he was the ruthless biker who could kill a man with his bare hands, and less than twelve hours later, he was the man soothing my worries with gentle words and a caring hand on my cheek. He confused me more than anyone else in my life ever had. Sometimes he scared me, and other times he made me furious.
There were times like this where he made me feel so heard and seen and naked. As I sat there with him, I realized how vulnerable I felt—how exposed.
“I think your sister hates me,” I said.
“My sister hates everyone.”
“She’s kind of intimidating.”
“She’s a Black,” he said simply. “We don’t fuck around.”
“No,” I mused, “you do not.”
He wiped my tears away and pulled me into him. I wrapped my arms gingerly around his waist and listened to his heartbeat under my cheek. I’d never heard such a beautiful sound in my life.
“I’m here for you,” I whispered. “For whatever you need. I want to help. Besides… I have a lot of time on my hands now that the bar is gone.”
He rubbed my back in slow circles. “Stay with me.”
I will, for as long as you’ll have me.
I closed my eyes as his breathing slowed and evened out, and I knew he’d fallen asleep. Susan had warned me he was tired but I couldn’t bring myself to leave him, so I stayed there, curled around him, thinking about my father’s burnt-down dream and all the plans I’d had for it that would never be.
As I listened to Jackson’s heartbeat, I told myself this was an opportunity to make new plans and chase new dreams.
Chapter 36
Jackson
“Get your fucking hands off me,” I grumbled as Brody tried to hoist me up into the backseat of his lifted pickup truck.
“Just trying to help, you ass,” Brody bit back.
Sam, who had already climbed up into the backseat, rolled her eyes at the pair of us. “Let’s go, boys. People are waiting for us.”
She held out her hand and I took it, letting her pull me gently up. My whole body was still pins and needles and aches and pains even after my four-day hospital stay. Sam, curse her lucky and sweet ass, had gotten out after her twenty-four-hour mark, and Grant had been nice enough to let her crash with him until I was discharged.
Some of the guys had popped over to the Well a handful of times to poke through the wreckage, and had apparently found a few things of Samantha’s that somehow survived the blaze, like an old silver jewelry box that she said used to be her mother’s, and some old coins of her father’s she kept in a lead safe. They’d also found some other odds and ends which she’d kept tucked in a box.
She’d be moving into my place tomorrow or the next day. Rumor had it that Suzie had gone out and purchased a bunch of clothes for Samantha to wear, too. Seeing as how her entire closet had gone up in flames, Sam had nothing to wear but the clothes on her back. I’d have to thank my sister for looking out for my girl because new clothes wasn’t something me or any of the guys would have thought of in a million years.
Or until Samantha’s started to smell.
Brody got behind the wheel of his truck and pulled out of the drop-off lane outside the hospital doors. It felt good to put that place behind me, and I caught him grinning at me in the rearview mirror.
“What?” I asked.
“You two look cute back there.”
Samantha beamed at him. “These have been the longest four days of my life.”
Brody chuckled. “Well, everything is going to get better from here on out.”
Samantha reached over to put her hand on my knee. “Grant said we can stay as long as we need. It might not be such a bad idea to have some extra hands to help out until you’re a little more stable and able to do things on your own.”
“I can do things on my own,” I said.
Sam gave me a cute but pitying smile. “I had to get you dressed to leave the hospital.”
“I could have managed.”
She gently patted my knee. “You have burns all over the place, Jackson. And you have people who want to help. I think we should let them. Besides, what better crash course to get to know your friends than to shack up with them for a few more nights?”
Brody slowed to a stop at a red light. “Your lady is talking a lot of sense.”
Samantha and I bickered about how many nights we would stay at Grant’s for almost the entire drive to his place. Brody dropped his two cents in every now and then and ignored me when I told him to shut up and mind his own business. By the time we pulled into Grant’s driveway, Sam and I had agreed that we would stay for two nights and nothing more.
Even that felt like two nights too many.
I wanted to be alone with her. Truly alone. I had no interest in shacking up with a buddy. This wasn’t ninth grade.
We walked around the side of the house and through the gate into the backyard, where Samantha’s orange cat pounced over with a bell on his collar to greet us. She scooped him up, and he started to purr immediately.
“Grant has been so hospitable,” she told me as we walked toward the shop. The door was open halfway, and we could see the feet and legs of my men and my little sister under it. “He doesn’t mind having Toes in the house at all and his fence is so high that I can let him outside. How great is that?”
We entered the shop through the side door—the one with the lock I’d picked mere weeks ago—and joined the others.
Everyone was thrilled to see me.
Susan met me with a fierce hug and a smile, and the boys fell into line after her, thumping me on the back and welcoming me home.
My sister moved over to stand beside Samantha, and with a genuine smile and glee in her eyes, she scratched Toes under his little chin and giggled when he licked at her fingers. Mason, standing on the other side of the shop, watched the entire thing with amusement dancing in his eyes.
Gabriel pressed a beer into my hands.
Samantha warned me that I was still on painkillers and shouldn’t mix. I assured her I’d only have one, and the boys harassed me for listening to my ball and chain.
Samantha didn’t seem to mind the jokes at her expense. She laughed easily, and the sound of her laughter ringing around the shop worked more miracles than the painkillers the doctors had prescribed me.
More beers were passed around and Sam even took one. She cracked it with one hand while still cradling her cat i
n the other, tipped her head back, and took a long sip. Some of it leaked out the corner of her mouth and she giggled before wiping it away while Susan cracked her own can beside her. The two women muttered something to each other and started to laugh.
I wasn’t entirely sure what scenario was worse, the pair of them not getting along or the pair of them snickering to each other like high school best friends.
Grant wove through several of the men to join me. He tipped his head to the door. “Can I steal you for a minute, Jack?”
I put a hand in the small of Samantha’s back. “I’m going to step out. Are you good here for a minute?”
Mason chuckled. “She’s been with us for three days, Jack. I think she can handle twenty minutes.”
I pointed my thumb into my own chest. “She’s my woman.”
Knox snorted. “She’s been trash-talking you for days.”
“Spilling all your secrets,” Abel added.
Samantha shushed them. “Yes, I’m fine. Go ahead.”
After excusing myself, I followed Grant out of the shop. We crossed the gravel and the yard, climbed the porch steps, and moved inside. His air-conditioning was running and the cool air felt good on my skin. We passed through the kitchen and living room, and in the hallway, Grant unlocked a door that led down to his basement.
We descended and he flicked on a light halfway down.
The basement in his home was unfinished. The air felt stickier down here but not hotter, and our boots thudded on the wood steps all the way down until we hit concrete. Several makeshift shelves had been put together and held random things like tools, guns, extra bullets, and preserved food in either cans or glass jars.
Grant had always been a bit of a prepper, always ready for the worst to go down. With the kind of money he had, it made sense. He could go out and buy whatever the hell he wanted to prep for an apocalypse that might never come and it wouldn’t mean shit.
We stepped behind the second row of shelves and I stopped in my tracks.
There, on his knees, was Clyde.
Grant sighed and folded his arms. “We figured we should wait until you were out before we decided what to do with him.”
Clyde looked like a wreck. He was chained up with shackles on his wrists and ankles, and he still wore the same clothes he’d had on the night of the blaze. He was bloodied and bruised, but a fire still burned in his eyes as he glared up at me.
In all the chaos after the fire and recovering at the hospital, I’d completely forgotten that I’d told my boys to get Clyde the hell out of there.
“Well fuck me,” I breathed.
Clyde spat on the concrete floor.
“He’s kept his mouth shut for the most part,” Grant said. “Stubborn bastard. Loyal to Bates to a fault.”
I crouched down in front of Clyde. “Then I guess you’re useless to us.”
Clyde’s mouth twisted into a sneer. “You’re a powder puff boy who likes to ride his shitty little bike around this shitty little town because it makes you feel like you’re a somebody.” He scoffed and shook his head. “You’re nothing compared to Bates. He’ll squash you like a bug and you know what? I know you’re going to let me out of here. I’m no good to you. I’m just taking up space.”
I glanced up at Grant. “Powder puff boy?”
Grant shrugged. “It’s a new one.”
I met Clyde’s gaze and sighed. “You know, I don’t really give a shit what you or any of Bates’s men think about me. Because whatever it is that you believe, it’s dead wrong. This is a shitty town, but it was a whole lot less shitty before you rolled in and turned it upside down. Your boss thinks I’m more than a powder puff boy puttering around on my bike if he was willing to go to the lengths he did on Saturday night to kill me, don’t you think?”
Clyde kept his mouth shut, which was the first smart thing he’d done since I got down here.
I grinned. “Now listen to me. I’m going to kill your boss, one way or another. And if you don’t help me, I’m going to kill you too. You know why?”
Clyde strained at his chains. “Fuck you.”
“Because you tried to kill my girl,” I growled. “You wanted to come for me? That’s fine. But you don’t bring other people into it and use them as leverage, you fucking scum. You don’t deserve the air in your lungs.”
Grant shifted behind me and I heard him take something down from a shelf. Seconds later, bullets chimed as they bumped together in his palm, and I heard him loading a pistol.
Clyde’s eyes went wide. “Fuck you. Fuck all of you! And fuck your whore!”
Grant tapped my shoulder and I held up my hand. He placed the pistol in my palm.
“Yeah,” I mused. “Fuck all of us.”
Grant hovered behind me. “Tell us something useful. What are Bates’s smuggling routes? Who are his buyers? Suppliers? Tell us anything, and maybe we’ll let you walk out of here.”
Clyde’s eyes flicked back and forth from me to Grant, and then he settled down and took a deep breath. “You’ll kill me anyway.”
If he hadn’t been the one to chloroform Sam, I might have let him walk. If he hadn’t been the one to help Bates light the fire, I might have cut him some slack. But he was an evil man who was more than willing to do the bidding of an even more evil man.
So I did what needed to be done.
Chapter 37
Samantha
Susan, or Suzie as I’d recently learned she preferred to be called, bumped my hip with hers.
“I’m sorry if I was a bit hard on you at the hospital. Jackson just—he has this way of making me see red sometimes. It’s in our blood.”
“Don’t be sorry,” I told her as I scratched Toes under his chin. My poor little cat had been glued to me ever since the fire, and I had this horrible guilt complex after I thought about his perception of that night. He probably thought I’d thrown him out the window on purpose. Which I had, of course. But still, I wished I could explain to him why I’d done it and that it would never happen again. “Jackson has a way of making me see red too, even when he’s not in the room.”
Suzie smiled. “I suppose that’s our curse.”
“Curse?”
She gave me a knowing nod, but when I continued to stare at her blankly she lowered her voice so none of the men, who still stood around chatting and working on their beers, could hear her. “Yeah, the curse of the women who love him.”
My cheeks burned. “Oh.”
Suzie giggled. “Don’t worry, Sam. Your secret is safe with me. To be honest, it’s pretty nice to have another girl around. I can’t tell you how many hours of my life I’ve spent in rooms like this that smell like oil and beer, listening to these idiots talk about motorcycle exhausts and custom parts.”
“Just for Jackson?” I asked.
Suzie’s cheeks turned a little pink too, and she turned her head away as if to try to hide that fact from me. “They’re my family too.”
“I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“I know.”
Even though we seemed to be on good terms now, it felt as though a long road remained ahead of Suzie and me in terms of getting anywhere close to friendship. Girls like Amber and Morgan were easier for me to navigate and understand, whereas Susan had sharp edges and a quick tongue. She didn’t do anything just to be nice or make others comfortable, and she could hold her own amongst men like the Devil’s Luck.
That said something.
Nevertheless, friendship was what I really wanted with her. She was Jackson’s sister after all. One thing my father had taught me was that friendship took time and effort to build, just like a relationship, and even if someone was prickly and unpredictable, it didn’t mean they didn’t deserve a kind touch.
I could offer what Suzie might not have access to amongst this particular group of people.
Toes had all but fallen asleep in my arms when I worked up the courage to ask her a question I’d meant to ask since William’s funeral.
“Are
you okay, Suzie?”
She stared blankly at me. “Okay?”
“Yeah, you’ve been through a lot recently. I know I might not be the person you’d ever want to talk about this kind of stuff with, but I just wanted to let you know that if you ever need someone to vent to, or cry to, or just let your hair down around, I can be that person. I’m a very good listener.”
She studied me like I had a concealed weapon on my person.
“Or not,” I said, second-guessing my choice to try to show her kindness.
Susan wrapped her arms around herself. “Thank you, Sam. It’s been a minute since someone checked in on me like that. I, uh, it’s gonna take some getting used to. So I don’t have an answer for you.”
Not having an answer was an answer in and of itself.
She was not okay.
How could she be? Her brother had been murdered just weeks ago, and her other brother had almost gotten himself killed four and a half days ago. On top of that, there was a madman riding through town with a posse of criminals hellbent on destroying her brother and his legacy, as well as the club he’d built. Where that left her, or me, I had no idea.
“Do you drink wine?” I asked.
She laughed. “Yes, I drink wine. Honestly, I’ll drink about anything.”
“Me too. One of these nights when things settle down, I’d like to get together and have a drink. Just you and me. What do you say?”
Her smile broadened until it pressed dimples into her cheeks. “I’ll bring the mozzarella sticks.”
“Good answer. Deep-fried cheese and wine. Does it get any better?”
“Not by much,” Suzie admitted, and her gaze wandered across the shop to Mason and Knox, who stood shoulder to shoulder with their eyes downcast, talking about something serious.
Probably Jackson and Bates and the promised storm ahead.
Suzie sighed as she watched them, and I realized she wasn’t watching them at all.
She was watching just one of them.