The Hero

by Amelia Shea

  Rourke raised his brows. “After what he did to you, you really thought I’d let him just walk away?” His tone was feral and menacing.

  “There are other ways to handle it. I can go to the cops, report him.”

  Rourke shook his head, leveling Macy with his narrow gaze. “No, you can’t.”

  Cheyenne cleared her throat. “But we have the witness, Ella, she said she’d talk to the cops for Macy.”

  “No,” Trax said.

  “Why not?”

  When the men remained silent, it dawned on Macy. “Because then that would put the club in their sights, huh?” Macy shook her head, feeling the betrayal linger in her blood.

  “Got nothing to do with the club.” Rourke stepped forward. “No. Not goin’ to the cops because it’s your word against his and he’ll get off…”

  Possibly. “Yeah, but…..”

  His face darkened in fury. “Fuck, Mace, he’ll get off. And that’s not happening.”

  She widened her eyes and snorted. “Neither is killing him or beating him up or whatever you all have planned.”

  “Everybody out,” Rourke said.

  Macy folded her arms and watched as Gage made his way to the door with Kase glaring down at Cheyenne and slowly following. Trax jerked his chin to the door in Cheyenne’s direction.

  Great. Her best friend was now public enemy number one to the club, Rourke was sending a sharp glare her way, and even Trax hadn’t said anything to her. Macy glanced down at Cheyenne as she shifted to get up and circle around the small table. She didn’t even look at Trax. As she passed near her, Macy reached out, grabbing her arm and pulling her in for a tight hug.

  “Thank you, Chey.” Macy inched back, but kept Cheyenne in front of her, gripping her arms. “Ironic, right? Their club is all about loyalty, and they always have each other’s back. Yet, when they see us do it for one another, they can’t seem to respect it.”

  Cheyenne smirked. “Yeah, you’d think they’d respect our sisterhood the same way we respect their brotherhood.”

  Macy smiled and winked. “Chicks before dicks.”

  “Jesus Christ, enough already,” Rourke shouted.

  Cheyenne jerked her head toward Rourke and forced a quivering smile. “We’re still friends, right?”

  Macy snorted. Rourke was obviously mad as hell, and it seemed an awkward time for Cheyenne to confirm their friendship. She eyed them carefully. Am I missing something? Rourke’s jaw slacked, and his features softened slightly for her best friend. There was definitely something between the two of them Macy was missing. It didn’t matter, as long as they weren’t at war, she’d settle for being clueless.

  Cheyenne walked to the door and noticed Trax wrap his hand around her waist. Hopeful, their little speech spiked something in their heads. When the door closed behind him, Rourke walked over to the kitchen, resting his hands on the counter and glancing up at her. Any ease she’d witnessed with Cheyenne was long gone.

  “You’re fucking good, right? All better now?” His top lip curled in a nasty sneer. “You got lucky. What if that girl hadn’t been in the bathroom when you came in, what if she decided not to get involved and left ya? He came looking for ya, and he would have found you fucking passed out and there to do whatever fucked up shit he wanted.” He dragged his hands through his hair, and she sensed he was trying calm down. He slammed his hands on the counter.

  She understood his anger. Hell, she felt it too. The “what-ifs” had wreaked havoc in her mind. It was a horrible situation for everyone, not just her. She could recognize what happened to her had affected Rourke and Cheyenne, possibly the club. But killing anyone was not the answer.

  “I need you to promise me you aren’t going to do anything to him. Not killing him or beating the shit out of him.”

  The corners of his eyes crinkled and his jaw squared. “Give me one fucking reason why I shouldn’t.”

  Her vision fogged slightly from the tears welling in her eyes. “Us,” she whispered.

  His brow twitched.

  “You kill him. He’s dead, you’re in prison for murder, and where the hell does that leave us?”

  “Macy.” He growled.

  She shot up from the couch with her fists balled and prepped for combat. “You are not doing this.”

  He scowled and opened his mouth, but she cut him off before he got the chance to say another word.

  “I’m not gonna stand by and let you ruin this thing between us. No,” she shouted, feeling the tears teeter at the rims. She shook her head. “It happened to me, Rourke. This guy and what he did happened to me. And as much as I appreciate you wanting to have my back, I will not allow it, when the cost would be you. I don’t wanna lose you, Rourke.”

  Something in Rourke changed, and she knew she was getting through to him. She watched some of his anger drain from his face.

  “You won’t kill him. And you won’t hurt him.” She stalked forward and with a shaky breath demanded, “You will not do something that will take you away from me. And if you can’t make me that promise?” She paused as the first tear slipped down her cheek. “Then I’m done and what we have is over.” She sniffled, overtaken by emotion. “You, here with me? I need that. And I need you to give it to me.”

  She swallowed her breath and fell into his arms. He pulled her deep into his chest. When he remained silent, she glanced up through her tear-filled eyes. His hand grazed her cheek, wiping away her tears. He gave her a sharp nod.

  “You promise me?” she whispered.

  He nodded.

  ****

  He’d been sitting outside Bryant’s apartment for the third day in a row. Each night, he brought another brother with him. It gave Kase reassurance he wouldn’t act before speaking with the club. Of course, all the brothers had different opinions. Gage wanted to kill him, Dobbs wanted to beat the hell outta him, and Trax was willing to do whatever Rourke saw fit.

  He assumed Kase would take his turn tonight. When the Harley turned the corner and started his way, he was surprised. The familiar motorcycle slowed down and reversed back to park next to Rourke. Once he was settled, he removed his helmet, resting it on the handlebars. He knew who the member had been even before he saw the bike. They all had different, unique sounds to their engines, and as brothers, they recognized who was who without even seeing the motorcycle.

  “Rourke.”

  “Saint.” Rourke kept his focus on the apartments. “Thought you were heading out for a few weeks.”

  “I am. Thought I’d take a turn before I head out. Got my kid for a week. Camping so I’ll be off the grid for a while.”

  Not too many people knew the real Saint. He was a reclusive motherfucker to most people outside the club and his businesses. One thing they all knew though—Saint’s kid came first above everything else in his life. Rourke, along with all the brothers, respected him for it.

  “Going again in the fall. I’ll let ya know when…you and your niece should come.”

  Rourke laughed. “Emme is all fucking tiaras and sparkly shit. Don’t know how she’d handle roughin’ it.”

  “You’d be surprised. My girl loves her all her girly stuff too, but there’s something about getting away from it all, kid eats it up.”

  Saint kept his daughter away from the club in the past. Mostly because she lived a good distance away, and when she visited, he preferred to spend time alone with her. She’d been to some club family BBQ’s, but he hustled her outta there before the parties really started. With the move to Ghosttown, he’d be closer to her. It made sense that Saint was one of the first brothers to take a property.

  The silence drowned out the vacant street, and Rourke scanned the area. His presence was merely for intimidation purposes. Bryant would come out of his place, same as he did yesterday and the night before and see him. He had yet to contact the police about it, which led Rourke to believe it was because he had something to hide. Like drugging Macy. They had friends on the squad and would have known if he’d reached ou
t. He didn’t.

  “Where’s your head at?”

  He had no fucking clue. He’d kept his conversation and promise to Macy, to himself. The club needed this decision to come from him solely. Even Trax, who Rourke was closest to, had been left in the dark.

  “I want to strangle his neck with my bare hands and watch him gasp for his last breath.” It was a raw, deadly, but honest admission. For as long as he lived, he’d never get the vision of Macy in the bathroom out of his head. Until his own last breath, he’d be plagued with the what-ifs of that night. “It’s what the clubs wants.”

  “Not the whole club. I know Gage, Dobbs, and a few others think it’s the right thing. And maybe it is. None of them has to live with it, though. That will fall on you.”

  Rourke turned his head. “You don’t think I should kill him.”

  Saint shrugged one shoulder. “Not my woman, not my call. But I will say, if it were me, with the lack of proof we have, and the risk involved. I wouldn’t do it.” Saint sighed. “Ya got too much to lose. Revenge is good, and sometimes, like with Mick, it was black and white, it’s called for. But you said yourself, nothing solid to confirm he was the one who did it.”

  Rourke drew in a harsh breath with his gaze locked on Bryant’s door. “I promised her I wouldn’t fucking touch him.”

  Saint scoffed.

  Rourke jerked his head. “What?”

  Saint shrugged. “There’s your answer. You made her a promise. Now you keep it.”

  Rourke furrowed his brows. “How ya think the club would feel about that?”

  “I don’t care, and neither should you.” Saint glanced up at the apartment. “There’s always a Plan B, Rourke.” Saint smirked. “There’s other ways of getting rid of him besides taking him out. You don’t have the proof he did it.” He glanced over at Rourke. “But he doesn’t know that.”

  Bryant didn’t know.

  The apartment door opened and Bryant walked out. He noticed him glance around before turning around and locking his door. As he walked down the open hall, he was obviously on high alert.

  “This has to end tonight,” he said, mostly to himself. Rourke couldn’t stand another night of watching the building with the fire and fury mounting inside him. He should have been at home, with Macy. It’s where he wanted to be.

  Saint stood and dismounted from his bike. “Then let’s end it.”

  Rourke got off his bike with Saint flanked on his side. Both men remained silent. No discussion was needed. Rourke knew Saint would back him up, even if he followed through with his desire to take him out. But Rourke had other plans.

  They double-timed it up the stairs and came face to face with Bryant. He’d been looking over his shoulder and didn’t see them until he was a foot away with nowhere to turn.

  “Shit,” he cursed with a breath. He glanced around, but the landing was empty. No one to help him and Rourke enjoyed watching him squirm.

  “G-guys,” his voice stammered. “I don’t want any trouble.”

  “Well, you fucking found it when you spiked a girl’s drink, you piece of shit.”

  He paled, all the blood draining from his face. He seemed to shrink in stature, and Rourke noticed beads of sweat immediately form over his forehead. It was all the proof he needed. It was a non-verbal admission. Rourke’s breathing shallowed as the bones in body tightened. Son of a bitch! He lunged forward, and Bryant cowered, but Saint grabbed his waist, heaving him back away.

  Rourke turned, rage biting into every part of his body. He was going to rip this motherfucker apart with his bare hands.

  “Rourke,” Saint warned, and Rourke immediately turned on his brother.

  “He fucking did it, you saw his face.” Rourke’s heart beat frantically against his chest. He was full of fury and rage. “This changes it,” he snarled.

  “No,” Saint said. “Doesn’t change your promise to Macy.”

  “Fuck,” he seethed through gritted teeth.

  As much as he wanted to rip Bryant apart, Saint was right. Fuck! Rourke spun around to find Bryant plastered against the wall. The stupid fuck didn’t even have the balls to try and run.

  He stalked over to him, watching him lower to the ground. Make him go away. Rourke drew in a deep breath and balled his fists. It was an internal fight not to start beating the living shit out of him.

  Rourke leaned closer, and Bryant’s eyes widened with fear he’d never seen on a grown man. It was the look of someone who believed he was about to die.

  “You get your shit, and you leave. I don’t care where the fuck you go, but you are gone. Tonight. Your ass will disappear before the fucking sunrise, or I’ll kill you.” Rourke gripped his neck. “I. Will. Kill. You.”

  He couldn’t help himself. He tightened his grip and threw him back against the wall before he righted himself. “I’m coming back tomorrow with my club, and if you’re here? You die. If you call the cops? You die.”

  Bryant nodded but stayed against the wall on the floor. Saint came up to stand next to him. “At least ten states away, that’s your only option. You leave tonight, you hear me?”

  He nodded, and the ball of his throat bobbed.

  “We have footage from the bar of you slipping something in her drink. Got the tapes.” Saint leaned closer. “We’ll be watching you. If I hear even a whisper of allegations against you, I’ll personally drop the tapes off to the police. You understand?”

  Saint had to forcibly pull Rourke away. Another minute in that fucker’s presence and his promise to Macy would have been forgotten from his blind rage. Saint knew this.

  They walked back to the bikes, and Rourke could feel Saint’s eyes on him the whole time. He assumed he was waiting for him to turn back and finish Bryant. It’s what Rourke wanted more than almost anything. Only one thing stopping him. Macy.

  Rourke watched Bryant rush into his apartment. He wasn’t bluffing. They would be back tomorrow and make sure he followed through. Macy would never set eyes on him again.

  “Let’s go,” Saint said.

  They moved back to their bikes in silence.

  Rourke kept his eyes locked on the apartment door, unsure if he’d be able to leave. He needed to make sure this asshole left town. Tonight.

  “He’ll do it, Rourke.”

  “If he doesn’t,” he turned to Saint, “I will kill him.”

  “And I will help you, but he’s probably inside packing up what he can as we sit here. I have pretty good intuition when it comes to people. He’ll leave.”

  “And the tapes?”

  Saint shrugged putting on his helmet. “If he ever gets the idea to try it again? He won’t since he thinks we got something on him. You saw him. He knows we’ll come for him. And if he needs a reminder, when he gets settled in his new home, we’ll send a local charter by to pay him a visit.”

  It was the best he could do. He’d make sure the club continued to watch him. They had eyes everywhere. He’d watch Bryant until his last breath and keep his promise to Macy.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The blaring of the alarm rang through the small dark room, piercing her eardrums. She flipped over from her back to her side, climbing over his chest and reaching out for the clock. She slammed her hand down twice, completely missing her target.

  “Where the hell is it?” she muttered, heaving herself fully onto Rourke. He coughed in her ear and curled his arm around her waist, setting her back on her side of the bed.

  Seconds later, the room was drowned in silence. Macy collapsed on her side.

  “Thank you.”

  She had thoroughly enjoyed her week off, but today she’d be back to work. She had her reservations about possibly seeing Bryant. Oddly enough, Rourke never mentioned it. She thought he’d at least insist on dropping her off and picking her up but nothing. In fact, he was headed to Ghosttown for the day. He wouldn’t even be remotely close to town if she needed him.

  It gave her anxiety, but she refused to say anything. She had specifically told him no
t to do anything. She should have been relieved and thankful he listened. So why was she regretting it now?

  His finger draped down her bare leg circling around her thigh and up to her hip. For all outward appearances, no one, not even Macy, would have guessed what a gentle man Rourke could be. She pushed her back against his chest, cuddling deeper into his warmth. She hadn’t had the closeness they shared with anyone else in the past. She wiggled, getting as close to him as she could, and melted into his chest, the hair tickling her back.

  The week had started out rough, but it was ending beautifully. Going to bed with him every night and waking up next to him each morning had been the true highlight of the week. But everything else between had been a close second. She fell into a routine with him, and it all felt so right and comfortable. She had basically moved in with a virtual stranger, yet, she felt as though she’d known him forever in the last week.

  He nuzzled his nose against her neck and caressed her hip, hooking his hand around to her stomach. When she felt his lips press against the curve of her jaw, she angled her head and glanced back at him.

  “I love you like this.”

  He stopped, popping up his head. His brows furrowed. “Like what?”

  She reached up for a quick kiss and settled against the pillow. “All sweet and cuddly.”

  His mouth grazed her neck, and he tugged her into his chest, lowering his voice. “You make me like this.”

  She grasped his arms, which were wrapped around her stomach and whined, “No, you’re not allowed to say sweet stuff when we can’t stay in bed all day.”

  He chuckled, pressing his lips to her temple and slowly pulled away. She curled her hand under her cheek and stared back at his wall. She heard the echo of the water turning on. She flipped over to her back, ready to face the inevitable. It was time to get up.

  The morning ran fairly smooth. Rourke left before she did and he wouldn’t be back until late. She had plans with Cheyenne after work. Maybe get a drink. She would probably need it. She had so much anxiety when she finally arrived at her building that it took fifteen minutes to get out of the car.