by Amelia Shea
Rourke planted himself against the wall. He’d wait there all night if he had to.
“Don’t fuck it up this time, man. Macy pulled some fucked up shit, but nothing that happened tonight was her fault.” Gage’s smile faded, and he nodded. “And you know it.”
He knew damn well it wasn’t her fault. It was that motherfucker’s. Her date was walking around on borrowed time. When Macy was healed and better, he was coming for Bryant.
Rourke had stayed in the hall for an hour before Cheyenne came out. She refused to acknowledge him when she walked into Macy’s room, followed by Trax. It took a great deal of restraint not to go in, but he didn’t. He was the last person she wanted to see right now. He circled his neck, cracking the stiff bones and rested against the wall again.
“Here.”
Rourke turned to find Gage on his left, offering him a beer. He grabbed the bottle, taking a large gulp and aimed his attention back on his bedroom door.
Gage stayed with him outside his room for a half hour before Nadia came out. “Go on in. I think Macy needs back up in there.” She raised her brows and glanced back in the room. “Chey is suggesting she stay at Trax’s,” Nadia smirked and eyed him. “And your girl is not happy about it.”
Rourke stalked inside and caught the tail end of Cheyenne’s pleading. She sat next to Macy on his bed.
“We have the space, Mace. There’s an extra room.”
Macy drew in a deep breath and stared down at the sheets fiddling with a loose string. She was stalling. She and Trax were cordial, but shit had gone down, words had been spoken, and neither one of them was eager to spend time with each other.
Cheyenne cleared her throat. “Or you can stay at your mom’s house.”
Macy whipped her head, and he watched as her eyes widened. “Tell me you didn’t call my mom,” She scowled and pinned her glare on Cheyenne. “I don’t wanna have to kill you.”
Cheyenne laughed and held her hands in front of her. “I didn’t, I promise.”
Rourke recalled Macy talking about her mother. Something like this was bound to scare the hell out of a mother, and from the dread on Macy’s face, her mom would be the type to lose her shit.
Macy sighed and closed her eyes. “Thank God.”
Gage leaned against the doorframe next to Rourke. “Stay here. Probably the safest place for you.”
While it wasn’t ideal, Gage had a point. It also served his own selfish reasons. He wanted her close where he could protect her. Having her stay there, in his room and his bed would be his perfect scenario.
Cheyenne whipped her head in their direction. “She’s not staying here.”
Rourke sighed and folded his arms. He understood Cheyenne’s concern and hesitation with her staying at the club. Macy had been banned, and the idea of her staying there wasn’t exactly welcomed. If she wanted to, Rourke was prepared to go head to head with his President. The club came first, but Macy’s safety wasn’t up for chance.
Gage snorted. “Yeah, well she’s not exactly jumping at the chance to stay at Trax’s.”
Macy shifted her gaze between them, only sparing him a quick glance before returning her gaze to the bed. He watched her chest rise and fall. The color had come back to her face, but she wasn’t back to herself.
“Why can’t I just stay at the apartment?”
Rourke clamped his lips, biting back a response. He was probably the last person she wanted to hear from. Staying at her place wasn’t an option.
Trax inched closer, and his face softened. “He knows where you live. This guy could just be some creep who drugs girls’ drinks, or he could be something more sinister. Until we know, we gotta have ya protected.”
They were Rourke’s exact thoughts. Until they knew more, Macy wouldn’t be left unprotected. Even if she refused him, another brother would be watching her.
“I can stay at the apartment with her.”
“No fucking way, Chey. Ain’t happening,” Trax snapped.
She jerked her head around to face her man. “Why not?”
Rourke cleared his throat. “Not safe.”
Rourke was only adding fuel to the fire by answering when she was clearly talking to Trax. She whipped her head around, and there was no missing the spark of anger.
“Newsflash, Rourke, we’ve managed to keep ourselves safe for the past,” she rolled her eyes, “oh, I don’t know…” Her eyes bulged mockingly. “For twenty-something years without any of you. I think we’ll manage.” Her lip curled in a nasty smirk.
“Chey.” Trax was sending his woman a warning. She didn’t heed him though. Instead, she smiled.
Rourke glanced over to Trax and sighed. He knew what was coming. Rourke set his sights back on Chey, who was still standing high and mighty.
Rourke jerked his chin to Macy. “You call this safe? A few hours ago, she was half passed out in a bathroom at a bar. That’s your idea of fucking safe?”
Her face paled, and she glanced away from his scowl and back at Macy. No one said a word because what could they say? Rourke was right, and from the look Chey was giving Macy, even she couldn’t dispute it.
Macy sighed. “So, those are my options? Trax’s house or here?” She glanced up at Rourke. He’d give anything to kick everyone out and slide in bed next to her. It wasn’t an option. He expected her to look away, but instead, she kept her gaze on him. The corner of her mouth spiked. Then she dropped her eyes to the sheets covering her.
Would she stay with him? He could be reading her all wrong. She would probably shoot down his offer. He sighed, watching her slumped against his headboard. Fuck it.
“I got room at my place.”
He watched as her eyes shot up, and she stared back at him. Her lips twitched, and his chest expanded. Yeah, Macy was coming home with him.
His offer got Chey’s attention, and she jerked her head, setting her scornful eyes on Rourke. “After what you said to her earlier? Over my dead body.”
“Christ, Chey.” Macy moaned and slithered down into the mattress.
He was officially done with Trax’s woman. She was pissing him the fuck off. It was Macy’s decision, not Cheyenne’s.
Rourke stepped forward but was blocked by Trax. He stretched his neck to glare at Chey. He knew where the resentment was coming from, and it was deserved, but it was Macy and only Macy who had the right to throw that shit in his face. “Better watch yourself, Chey. Trax may put up with your mouth, but you keep that shit away from me, you hear me?”
“You stood here and told her some fucking piece of shit spiking her drink was her fault. Fucking own it, asshole.”
He clenched his jaw and balled his fists. If he’d been a lesser man his hand would be cold clocking Macy’s best friend. For all his faults, and he had plenty, putting hands on a woman wasn’t one of them, and it never would be. He breathed through his nose so intensely his heart raced and his blood boiled. He slowly turned to Macy whose eyes were as big as saucers.
He owed nothing to Cheyenne or anyone else in the room except Macy. It wasn’t the ideal setting, but if it was all he got, he’d make his apology public.
“I was wrong for saying what I said. It was fucked up, and I’m sorry.” He took a deep breath, never looking away from Macy. “Seeing you last night, the way ya were and what happened? Scared the fuck outta me. The fear turned into rage, and I put that on you. And I am sorry, Mace.”
Macy widened her eyes and nodded. He took a deep breath and repeated his apology. “It wasn’t your fault…it was his. And he will pay for it, ya hear me?”
She nodded again, and the corner of her mouth curled.
He turned back to Cheyenne and narrowed his eyes. He’d take ownership for fucking up, but he wouldn’t stand around taking her digs.
“Make no mistake, princess, I own all my shit. So you,” he pointed at Cheyenne, “can shut the fuck up with that bullshit.”
Cheyenne gasped, and Macy pulled the covers over her face.
“All right man, back off.
” Trax pushed his palm at Rourke’s chest. They needed distance between them, all of them.
“Then keep her in check.”
Cheyenne lunged forward, grabbing his arm. “I don’t need anyone to keep me in check, you prick.”
Gage rushed forward setting himself between them with Trax stepping in front of Cheyenne.
“Settle the fuck down, both of you.”
The room seeped with tension. Neither him or Cheyenne backing down. He’d always held a certain respect for her and all she’d done with helping find the guy who took down Mick, but she was riding a fine line. She was standing in the way of something he wanted. And that something was the perfect distraction to ease the tension.
It started out as a muffled snicker. All heads turned, aimed at his bed. As her laughter grew, his sheets shook, and finally she threw them back from her face and gazed up at the ceiling.
“I cannot believe this shit show is my life.” She rolled her eyes and scooted into a seated position. Nothing shocked him more than the next words which escaped from her lips.
“I wanna stay with Rourke at his place.”
Her statement caught him off guard, but he nodded. Cheyenne continued her pursuit of her staying with her and Trax, but he knew she wouldn’t relent. His offer was done with true intentions, though he hadn’t given much thought she’d take him up on it.
He didn’t lie. He did have an extra room. However, it was packed with his shit and not equipped to serve as a guest room. He made his way down the hall of the clubhouse and made the call.
His sister picked up on the second ring. “Hi.”
“Need you to get in my place and clean out my spare.”
“Okay. Clean out, as in, what?”
“Need you to move the shit to my room and get a bed in there, maybe a dresser, something with a mirror.”
“Okay. Why?”
“I got a friend. She needs a place to stay.” He gritted his teeth with the prolonged silence. Answering questions about Macy, and Trini would have a lot, was not what he wanted to do at the moment.
“She? Like a woman?”
“Yeah.” He dragged his hand through his hair, not wanting to go into detail. “Just clean it up, make it decent. If ya gotta get new shit, I’ll pay ya back tonight.”
She chuckled. “Have you been holding out on me, big brother?”
Rourke never mentioned women to his sister. There was never a need. Until Macy.
“Fuck,” he snapped. “You gonna do it or what?”
She laughed. “Of course, I will. So, who is she?”
“Macy.” He clamped his lips and then drew in a breath. “Just a girl I know. Needs a place to stay.”
“Hmm…Macy, huh? You’ve never had a woman stay at your place.”
“Trini,” he warned.
“I’m just sayin’.” She giggled, and Rourke rolled his eyes. “I’ll head over now and clean it out. I think I have an old desk we’re not using. I’ll make it pretty.” She paused. “For Macy.”
“Thanks.” He glanced around the bar. “I should be home later.”
“Is she coming tonight?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Okay, great, I should have plenty of time to fix up the room.”
“Thanks.”
Trini laughed, and Rourke tightened his grip on the phone. He knew what was coming next.
“I can’t wait to meet her. Bye.”
He ended the call and shook his head. He’d never had a woman stay overnight. Let alone live with him. Trini was reading into this, but she was on the mark.
Fuck me.
Chapter Ten
He’d avoided her for most of the next day, occasionally checking in on her, but only when someone else was in the room, she noticed. By the evening, they were headed to his place with Cheyenne insisting on driving her. Macy knew there was an ulterior motive. Cheyenne wanted her to stay at Trax’s with her and would use the time to try and talk her into it. Macy planned on hearing her out with no intentions of taking her up on the offer.
Why would I?
The idea of staying with him and possibly, working things out was too great to pass up. Though, once the offer was made, he seemed almost uneasy around her. Was he having second thoughts? She stared out the window, tuning Cheyenne out as they pulled into the trailer park.
She bit her nail, scanning the lined trailers. Some were nicer than others with potted plants on the railings of their small front decks. Others were the bare basics. When the car stopped, Macy glanced up through the windshield. Bare basic. She bit her lip, scoping out her new home.
“It’s—” Cheyenne paused, and Macy glanced over. “Well, it’s um,” Cheyenne cleared her throat. “Nice.”
Macy bit back her laugh.
“You think it’s safer than our place?”
Macy cocked her brow. “Considering Rourke is here, yeah.”
She watched Rourke get off his bike and walk around talking to the guys who remained on their bikes. This was just a drop-off. They’d leave, so would Cheyenne. Then Macy and Rourke would be left alone. She drew in a deep breath.
“I don’t see why you can’t just stay with us.”
“Because your boyfriend hates me.” Macy snorted and rolled her eyes. Why were they still having this conversation? Even if she and Trax got along great, Macy would still want to stay with Rourke. As much as she’d hoped he’d make the offer, she was stunned when he actually did.
Cheyenne whipped her head. “He does not.”
She sighed and rested back in the car. “Chey, I’ll be fine here. I can handle Rourke if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I’m worried about my best friend staying with a man who’s an asshole,” she spewed her words catching Macy off guard. Rourke had apologized, and it seemed genuine. Of the two women sitting in the car, Cheyenne had always been more forgiving than Macy. Not this time.
“I thought you were on his side,” Macy reminded her friend.
“I changed my mind.” She scoffed. “He changed my mind when he blamed you for what happened.”
Macy snorted. “And he apologized.”
“So, what? He had no right to say what he did to you. Do you really wanna be with a guy who would treat you like that?”
Macy tilted her head. Hold up, sister. “Don’t know, Chey. You really want to be with a man who confused you with a stripper, basically knocked you to the ground and called you some unsavory names too, if memory serves me?”
“It’s different.”
Macy couldn’t hold in her laugh. This was hypocrisy at its finest. “How?”
“Trax loves me, and he would never say that now.”
“But he didn’t back then, and you forgave him, right?”
“It’s different.” Cheyenne pursed her lips.
“You’re delusional if you think so. Stop with the double standard bullshit, it’s not a good look on you.”
“Then maybe you should stop bitch mode ’cause it’s not a good look on you.”
Macy gasped. They didn’t argue very often, but when they did, it was usually a screaming match. They’d fight, take a breather, and make up. Macy took a deep breath as she got out of the car. She didn’t bother looking back, and Cheyenne didn’t get out of the car. She made her way to the three men holding court in front of his trailer. Rourke glanced up trying to read her face. She didn’t bother saying anything. She jolted her head to the door.
“Can I go in?”
“Yeah.” He peered past her shoulder. He must have been surprised Cheyenne wasn’t with her, but he didn’t say anything. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
She turned and walked up to the small landing and pushed open the door. She flicked on the lights and scanned the small space. She’d never been in a trailer before. It was nicer than she’d expected. A decent size kitchen blended into a living room. It was dated but appeared clean. The brown couch had seen better days. Probably in the seventies when it was new. A beat-up coffee table sat in
front of the couch. A few remotes and an ashtray filled with cigarette butts lay on the table.
She dropped her bag on the floor and stepped in further. There was an open door off the living room. She walked to the doorway and turned on the lights. A queen size bed sat in the center, unmade, with the sheets dangling onto the floor. A small nightstand and dresser against the wall made up the room with little space for anything else, including walking. The room was a mess, clothes on the floor, papers and receipts covered the top of the dresser. She backed out, walking into the main area.
She was beat, and all she wanted to do was sleep. Would they be sleeping in the same bed? Probably not. He may have apologized for what he’d said to her, but they had a long way to go before sharing a bed. She had her own apology to make. She sat on the couch, bouncing slightly on the cushion. It wasn’t so bad, she’d slept on worse. The voices from outside had been drowned out by the motorcycle engines. She waited with her focus on the door. When he came in, he stopped in mid-step, seeing her on the couch.
She raised her brows. “I like your place.”
He tightened his lips but didn’t say a word. He tossed his keys in the bowl on the kitchen counter and went to the fridge, grabbing two beers. She watched him pull open a drawer taking out a bottle opener. Such a small feat, yet so domesticated. Rourke brought the bottle to his lips, and she watched the ball in his throat bob as he took a swig.
He handed her the beer without a word.
“Is that where I’m staying?” She pointed over her shoulder.
He shook his head. “That’s my room. Come on.” He turned before she could say anything, reaching down for her bag and heading down the hall past the kitchen. She ignored the disappointment that they wouldn’t be sharing a room. What did I expect?
She rushed up following him. A door to the bathroom was on her right with another door next to it. She bumped into his back when he stopped.
The light illuminated the room, and she was struck speechless. The room was small but bright. Unlike his own room, this one had a small white curtain covering the window. The bed against the wall had a white bedspread with a lavender blanket at the edge and throw pillows. The white furniture wasn’t fancy or new, but it was clean, and the room was neat and orderly. In the corner was a small desk with mason jar and a few wildflowers.