The Wicked Horse Boxed Set (+Wicked Bond [5])

by Sawyer Bennett

  "What are you smiling about?" Woolf asks with good nature.

  "You'll never guess what Belle did last night."

  "What's that?" he says with interest although he continues to stock.

  "We were cuddling on the couch--watching Frozen for like the bazillionth time and I wish she'd just 'Let It Go' if you get my meaning--and Barney jumped up and snuggled up on my other side. Belle turns to him, pushes him away, and says, 'Go away, Barney. That's my mommy.'"

  I break out into laughter remembering how affronted Belle was that our rescue dog, Barney, wanted to impede in on her mommy time. I also go warm all over as I remember the feeling of utter joy as she said those words. It's confirmation to me that Belle thinks I'm great, and I sure as fuck need that after all the crap I let her see those first few years of her life.

  Woolf chuckles as he shakes his head, his lips curved upward in amusement. "That kid. She's got a personality the size of Wyoming."

  "Right? I swear she's going to be a comedian one day. Or a lawyer. That kid is learning how to negotiate. Trying to get her to go to sleep at night is a major pain in my ass. She has to negotiate how many songs I'll sing for her, and trust me... I'm getting a little tired of singing "Twinkle, Twinkle" four times in a row."

  Woolf doesn't respond, although he's still smiling. He merely opens another box of beer and starts putting the bottles in the cooler. He's part of a brotherhood of guys who have all stepped up to the plate since Bridger left town almost a month and a half ago. Woolf has been handling the operations of The Wicked Horse, while Cain, Rand, and Logan have been keeping an eye on The Silo. My face still burns as I remember what Cat told us the other night during our regular girls' poker night we instituted.

  What she and Rand did at The Silo.

  Apparently, it was his night to sort of watch over things, so, of course, Cat was with him. Apparently, they'd both gotten so horny watching all the action that they joined in on the fun. Camped themselves out in the orgy room and played with another woman.

  I know my face was beet red when she was telling the story, although Callie, Sloane, and Auralie all leaned forward and listened with avid interest and what may have been envy on their faces. Cat chatted away as if it was nothing, sipping wine and talking about how Rand and the other woman took turns going down on her.

  I was affected by her story for sure. A tiny pang of desire in between my legs, but not for another woman to do the same to me. Not even the thought of the uninhibited freedom of doing something so naughty.

  No, the pang was pure desire for a solid, trusting, and reliable relationship with a man who would make me feel like a queen the way I've observed firsthand how Woolf, Cain, Rand, and Logan all do for their women. A man who would put me first, protect Belle and me at all costs, and would give me the world.

  Who gets off by me getting off.

  Sadly, I don't know anyone like that.

  Bridger's been gone almost six weeks. At the one-week mark, I kept waiting with baited breath for him to walk through the door.

  At two weeks, I thought, Well, maybe this is an extended vacation.

  Three weeks, I called it a sabbatical.

  At four weeks, I crossed the point of no return because I realized I was a fool for holding out hope and holding up my life. To pine any more for him past that would just be plain pathetic.

  So I moved on. These last two weeks, I've concentrated on setting up a stable home for Belle and settling into the Jackson community. And I've settled in marvelously, becoming closer than ever with my poker girls and learning more about their men. It wasn't even awkward in the slightest when we all gathered at Woolf and Callie's place for Thanksgiving, and I didn't feel like odd man out without a man because I had Belle.

  Yeah, I wished I had Bridger there, but he wasn't, and it was lovely all the same.

  Meaning... I was moving on.

  Woolf had told me the morning after Bridger left that Bridger said I could stay in his house. I actually accepted that offer, because yeah... during that first week even though he'd crushed me, I still expected him to come through that door and make it all right.

  Woolf put me on to work at The Wicked Horse as a waitress, and I started saving all of the money I earned. It was hard work and my feet ached at the end of the night, but the best part of that was I usually fell into an exhausted sleep each night and couldn't pine over a certain man. I worked mostly night shifts, which meant I could spend my days with Belle. In the evening, Callie, Sloane, Cat, and Auralie all took turns watching her until I could find a reliable babysitter.

  When the third week rolled by and Bridger didn't return, I went ahead and used some of the money he left me to put a deposit down on a small apartment for Belle and me. I was still using Bridger's truck for transportation and had no qualms with continuing to do so. I was fronting the gas for it, and from every paycheck, I put a small amount aside to pay Bridger back for the money I'd used for the deposit.

  After he'd been gone for a month, I decided to move on. I have no clue if Woolf has heard from Bridger because I didn't ask. I assume so, since he still had a business to run, but I wasn't about to let anyone know how crushed I was. It meant I smiled as I moved on.

  I had new friends, a new place to live, and a good, solid job. Kayla and Zeke were both in jail awaiting their trials, although the federal prosecutor did tell me that Kayla's attorney might assert a psych defense. Not sure how that makes me feel. I sort of believe that woman is bat shit crazy, but I'm pretty confident she's going away for a long time, so I choose not to worry about it, just as I choose not to worry about Zeke coming after Belle or me. He's history and word on the streets is that Mayhem's Mission has crumbled from the inside out with the arrest of the key players from all the major chapters.

  I did take care of one important thing that didn't give me full closure, but it made me feel somewhat better. Joseph Kizner passed me the contact information for Kyle's sister, Andrea. She lives on the coast of North Carolina, and I reached out to tell her how grateful I was for what her brother did for me. It was an emotionally raw conversation, and I was afraid she'd hate me for putting her brother in jeopardy, but she was really quite proud of his work even though she was grieving deeply.

  "Everything going okay with you?" Woolf asks.

  I blink my eyes, pulling out of my thoughts. "Yeah," I say brightly. "I found a car I'm thinking about buying. Maybe you could take a look at it. One of the customers here is selling it. It's about six years old, but it has low mileage."

  "Sure," he says amiably. He's become almost like a big brother to me. "Where's it located?"

  "I guess at his house, but he said he'd drive it up here one night if I wanted to check it out."

  "Just let me know when and I'll come by," Woolf says as he empties the last box and sits it on the stack of empties. "And now that I think about it, why are you in so early? I know I saw you on the schedule for tonight."

  "I could use the extra money," I say vaguely.

  "For what?" Woolf pries... quite nosily too I might add.

  "To buy the car," I admit grudgingly because I'm not going to lie to him.

  "Bridger left you plenty of money to do that," Woolf points out.

  I consider getting into this with Woolf, but something holds me back. He's not said a word about his friend to me since the morning after Bridger left. I also have been quite silent on the matter. I think I want to keep it that way.

  "Well, I better get ready to start my shift," I say with complete avoidance of his question as I hop off the stool.

  "Sit your ass back down," Woolf growls at me and I freeze in place, looking at him warily. When I don't move, he growls again, "I'm your boss and I could fire you, so sit your ass down."

  I hop back up on the stool and try not to pout as he lean his arms on the bar. Woolf stares at me intently for a moment, and then asks gently, "Why aren't you using the money Bridger left you?"

  Well, looks like we're going to talk about it. "Oh, you mean h
is guilt money? That pile of money he left because he didn't have the balls to say goodbye to me and tell me it was over? That pile of money left to soothe his conscience that he wasn't abandoning me? Or maybe it would help him sleep at night since he so royally fucked me over."

  Woolf doesn't even flinch once during my tirade, but his eyes do grow soft with understanding. All he says is, "I understand."

  His gentle voice and the compassion almost embarrass me because I don't want him to feel sorry for me. Like I said... I've moved on from Bridger and I don't need him giving me those looks of pity.

  I flash Woolf a brilliant smile. "Well, it's been nice chatting, but I'm going to get ready for my shift."

  I start to hop off the stool again, but the front door of The Wicked Horse opens. I can't lie to myself; I always get a jolt of awareness, wondering if this will be the time Bridger comes walking through. Even though I've moved on, I can't help but still wonder... what if.

  It's not Bridger though, just the senior bartender, Ted McKeon.

  When the door closes behind him, his eyes slide behind the bar to Woolf, to whom he gives a lift of his chin in greeting, and then to me, where they light up with genuine surprise and delight.

  "What are you doing here, sexy girl?" Ted asks.

  I give a quick glance to Woolf and see his eyebrows shoot up high. I almost want to laugh with glee because this is exactly what I needed to wipe that look of pity off Woolf's face. I don't want him to think I'm still stuck on Bridger.

  Because I'm not.

  Much.

  I slide off the stool and step up to Ted, giving him a huge smile. "Hey, stud. I'm picking up an extra shift today."

  Ted looks upward and holds his hands out. "Thank you, Lord, for answering my prayers. Beautiful Maggie is here for me to stare at all day."

  I giggle because it's cute and because Woolf is watching. Ted flirts with me all the time and has been doing so since the day I started working here. I'd engage him in a friendly, fun way, but I always held myself in reserve so he knows I didn't mean anything by it. He's a smart guy. He got it.

  But it didn't stop him from repetitively asking me out. I was honest with him the first time I declined, telling him I'd been in a relationship that had ended recently and it was too soon for me. Ted understood, but he also told me straight up he'd keep asking until I said yes.

  And I figured there would come a time I would say yes. I mean, why not? He's gorgeous with sandy-blond hair, a ripped physique, and a rumor floating around that his cock is at least eight inches.

  Not that I'm interested in that though.

  I'm just saying.

  Still, maybe I should just bite the bullet and do it. Take the plunge into the dating waters and see what else is out there. Ted's clearly interested in me. He's very nice, knows I have a daughter, and often talks about his nieces in a really sweet way. He could be not only a nice start to my new life, but maybe something real could also develop.

  This sounds very good, even though my heart is screaming that Bridger is my soul mate and I shouldn't give up.

  I give a quick glance to Woolf, see he's still watching with avid interest, and reach out to hook my index finger through one of Ted's belt loops.

  I give a playful tug before I release it and bat my lashes. "Come on, McKeon. Might as well get it over with and ask me out again."

  Ted blinks in surprise because I've never initiated flirting or brought up us going on a date. He steps into me, reaches a hand out, and gives a lock of my long hair a playful tug in return. Not going to lie... my heart beats a little faster.

  "Going to finally make my day, Maggie, and tell me you'll go out with me?" he murmurs, but I know Woolf heard it.

  I lift up on my tiptoes, place a hand on Ted's chest--which is very nice--and tilt my face up to his. "You know, I do believe I will."

  "That's fucking awesome," Ted says with a brilliant smile as he kisses my cheek and then pushes past me. But he looks back, points a finger at me, and says, "We'll talk details later."

  I wave at him, still smiling. "Can't wait."

  I watch until Ted disappears into the staff room, and then turn back to Woolf. I level him with a no-nonsense stare, and he looks back at me with calculating eyes.

  Lifting my chin, I tell Woolf, "As I was saying, I don't need anything from Bridger."

  "So it appears," Woolf says thoughtfully, and then gives me a nod of respect. "And that makes me very happy indeed."

  He turns away from me and walks through the swinging door to the kitchen. I stare after him, not really sure how to take his last words. I made a date with a hot guy right in front of him and then told him I didn't need anything from Bridger. He said that made him very happy and he actually looked like the cat that swallowed the canary.

  Not sure how to take that, but I guess it just means he's happy I'm moving on. He's fond of me, I know, and yeah... I'm sure that's it.

  Chapter 27

  Bridger

  I stare down at the small, plain headstone that says nothing more than "Levi Payne" and the years that encompassed his life. There were thirty in total. It sits five rows back and three plots over from my mom's headstone. It merely says "Abigail Payne - Loving Mother and Wife". She died when I was six, a tragic accident where she apparently slipped trying to get out of the tub, hitting her head on the edge hard enough to crack her skull and damage her brain. She lingered for almost a week before she died. I don't remember much about it... just bits and pieces of the ambulance there and Dad trying to keep me away from it all. Sadly, my memories of my mom are just as dulled, not because I want them to be, but just because I think that's what happens with the passage of time. Still, I hang onto a few memories that are vivid to me--like her helping me with homework or cheering for me at soccer practice. I'll visit her grave when I'm done here with Dad, but I have no clue why they're not buried near each other. I assume she had something to do with that.

  My dad's death was just as tragic as my mom's, maybe even more so since he left me all alone with a monster, yet he went much quicker than my mom. Head-on collision with a drunk driver.

  Instantaneous death.

  I stare at his grave impassively. I want to hate him for leaving me with her and trusting her to take care of me. But if I'm being fair, and I know I should be, she didn't show any nastiness while they were together. She was kind and attentive to me. She had me snowed, so I guess it's only fair to assume she had Dad snowed as well.

  I wonder if he loved her.

  I wonder if she loved him.

  I'll never know, but really... how could I? I don't understand the concept of love. Not between a man and a woman, anyway. I've never had any role models by which to learn. I can barely remember my mom and dad together, and my dad and stepmom were only together a few years. I spent many of my formative years where my only familial relationship was my stepmom beating and fucking me, always in that order. After, I spent some time on the streets, and then with an Episcopalian priest who was single and apparently content to be so. While Adrian is kind, loving, and paternal, he could never teach me about the type of love that I'm so fucking confused about right now.

  That's not to say I'm without some guidance. I've watched over the past year as each of my friends fell deeply in love. I mean passionately--will die for you, am nothing without you, together to the ends of the earth type of love. I can't say as I know what each of these dudes are feeling, but I see the things they've sacrificed to be with their women, the lengths they go to make them happy. I've seen each of them give up The Silo because whatever was leaving them unfulfilled in life before has been filled and is being continuously replenished by whatever fucking love mojo those women bring to their lives.

  Most importantly, I see my buds happier than I've ever known them to be.

  Turning from my father's headstone, I cut over five rows and then turn right, walking past two more plots before I look down at Abigail Payne's little concrete stone. It's not fancy marble, but I expect my dad c
ouldn't afford much better. He was a blue-collar man, working for the city water department as a meter reader. My mom worked part time as a cashier at a grocery store, but she was always home in the afternoons when I came home from school. Or so I seem to vaguely remember. At any rate, he couldn't afford fancy marble. I consider now that perhaps I should upgrade both of their stones.

  Better yet, maybe I should have them both moved so they can have side-by-side plots.

  I squat down, reach out, and pull a few tall weeds from the base of the stone. My fingers brush against the cold surface, and I grimace. I don't have a pair of gloves. I regret not breaking down and buying a pair. It's fucking twenty-seven degrees outside and while I had the foresight to pack a heavier coat when I decided to come "visit" Adrian, I sure as shit forgot my gloves and a hat.

  But even as the temperatures continued to drop over the last few weeks, I kept telling myself, You'll be headed home soon. No sense in buying gloves when you have a perfectly good pair at home.

  Except, I never did go home, and here I am freezing my digits off as I pay my respects to my parents. I look at the grave marker for a few more minutes, and yeah... I think it will be nice to arrange for my parents to rest beside each other. When I'm done, I stand up, feeling my knees crack as they straighten back out again and turn to see Adrian patiently waiting for me in his car.

  I trudge across the cemetery, cutting diagonally across the rows until I reach his olive-green Ford sedan and climb into the passenger seat, immediately putting my hands up to the vents to let the heat warm them up.

  Adrian puts the car into drive and slowly drives through the cemetery to the exit.

  "All good?" he asks after he turns back onto the main road and heads back to the rectory.

  "Yeah," I say with a smile. "I think I'll move them so they can be beside each other. Maybe next spring."

  "There are some plots available in our parish cemetery if you're interested," Adrian offers.

  I smile in appreciation. "I'd like that a lot. You can look over them in my absence."

  "Let me guess," Adrian says dryly. "It'll be another thirteen years before you come back to visit."

  I laugh. "That sounds an awful lot like whining to me, and here you've been bitching and moaning at me every day to go back to Jackson. You can't have it both ways, old man."