by Evie Monroe
He’d laughed at me at the time. But I thought, okay, as he got older, the Cobra stuff would get old. He’d grow out of it. I didn’t realize it was a lifetime commitment.
That meant that all those things he was so deep into, back when he was gunning for president of the Cobras . . . he was still into them. Maybe even deeper, now.
“You’re president of the Cobras,” I said. It wasn’t a question.
He raised his eyebrows, like, what did you expect?
I guess what I’d hoped and what I expected were two different things. He was, what? Thirty, now? I’d hoped that by his third decade the gangster lifestyle would’ve lost whatever allure it held over him. But what had I expected?
I’d expected him to stay a Cobra as long as he lived. To die a Cobra, which would probably happen sooner than later, at the rate he was going.
I’d seen the way his eyes gleamed when he talked about the club. It was in his blood. Hell, he’d dropped me cold so many times because of club business. I’d never mean more to him than them. Never.
And neither would his daughter.
By the time this full realization had settled over me, he’d gone back into the kitchen. I trailed in after him, in a daze, and watched as he hunched in front of the fridge, and opened the gallon of milk, Ella’s milk, and tossed it back. I watched him as he took long swallows, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“People shot at the house?” I asked, not sure I wanted to know the answer.
He looked over at me, a superior smile on his face, and said, “Shot? It was a regular wild west shootout, girl.”
My stomach clenched. I looked at Ella. “Who?” I whispered.
He closed the refrigerator door and leaned against it. “You know.”
The tightness in my belly got worse. It was like everything from two years ago—his entire life—had been preserved and was an exact replica of the life he’d had before I left. The life I couldn’t stand. Oh, the house might have been different, but everything else? The same.
“The Fury,” I mumbled.
He nodded.
“Did anyone get hurt?”
He nodded again. “I always kept the alarm disabled for my guys. They came over the wall. I’m in the process of upgrading the system but they know where I live and they’ll come again.”
I swallowed.
“I told you, sweetheart. You don’t want to have your name associated with me, if you can help it. I know what you’re looking for. And you won’t be happy here.”
I sucked in a deep breath, then let it out. “Will you loan me some money? To stay in a hotel?”
Until when? What would happen then? Short of me winning the lottery or a fairy godmother appearing, nothing would save me.
He nodded, whipped out his big fat wallet and counted out ten one hundred dollar bills. “And take my number. Call me if you need more.”
He scribbled his number down on a piece of paper and handed it to me, then told me he’d order me an Uber.
I folded the paper, put it in the back pocket of my jean shorts, and went upstairs to pack up our stuff to take Ella to someplace safe. As I climbed the stairs, I told myself this would be good. I didn’t need to get myself or Ella entrenched in Cullen’s chaotic life. Still, I couldn’t shake the sadness that settled over me.
So much for finding a little bit of normalcy for Ella.
So much for the fairy tale.
When I packed everything up, changed Ella, and started to lift her into my arms, I looked around the room, wishing to God I didn’t have to leave.
Then I sank down onto the corner of the mattress, buried my head in my hands, and had a good, long cry.
Chapter Seven
Cullen
I left the house and set out on my bike, trying to convince myself I was doing the right thing, sending Grace away.
It was the right thing, for the life she wanted.
And for the life I wanted.
I didn’t need myself to get entangled with her. The kid didn’t need a shit father like me. Grace wanted us to play happy family, and that wasn’t going to happen in my lifetime. If she thought we could do that with what I had going on with the Cobras, she was going to get us all killed.
So this was good.
Clean break.
I’d set up an account for her and arranged to have some money sent whenever she needed it. She could stay safe that way and take care of her kid.
As I pulled into The Wall, I wondered why, then, it felt like something was gnawing away at me.
I went inside and ordered a beer. Saw Drake and Nix playing pool, so I sat down at a stool to watch them. The second Nix saw me, he made his shot, straightened, and came over to me.
“Where’s your girl?” I asked him, giving him a fist-bump.
“Rehearsal,” he said, taking a swig of his own beer. I remembered him saying she was a ballerina, which made me laugh every time I pictured him in the front row watching her. “So is it true?” he asked.
I raised an eyebrow as I watched Drake line up his next shot. “Probably not. What are we talking about?”
“Drake said Faith came in here late last night and started telling everyone you’ve got a kid.”
I stared at him. Who the fuck was Faith? Then it came to me. That redhead with the annoying voice from last night. I frowned. “Yeah. Well, an old flame showed up out of nowhere a couple days ago, and she was staying at my house with her kid ‘cause she’s got nowhere to go. But she’s leaving.”
Nix rubbed the scruff on his jaw. “Good. We still don’t know what the Fury’s up to. After what happened a few weeks ago. If word got out you had a kid, they’d probably declare open season on the poor little thing.”
I stiffened. “Just what did Faith tell people?”
He shrugged. “I wasn’t here. But the Fury knows where you live. Wouldn’t be hard for them to hit you where it hurts. You getting that security system upgrade?”
“It’s in the works.” Up until the shootout, the nine-foot wall around the perimeter had felt like enough. But after the Fury came to my home, I’d gotten quotes on an upgraded system with motion cameras and thought about employing armed guards. I’d come home a few times and gotten the distinct feeling my place was being watched.
What if they’d seen Grace and the kid?
I sat back in my stool, thinking. Fuck. If Hell’s Fury knew about Grace, no place in Aveline Bay was safe for her. Especially some shithole hotel in town. They’d find her and hold her hostage the way they’d done with Olivia.
And I’d just sent her away, alone.
Shit, shit, shit.
I was jarred from my thoughts by Nix, snapping his fingers at me. “Yo. Did you hear me? I asked if you heard from Jet yet.”
I shook my head.
“He and Hart said they got some intel on the Fury,” he said. “We should meet tonight.”
I nodded, paid for my beer, and stood up. “Yeah, we should. Church eight o’clock tonight.”
“Yeah.” He studied me. “You okay?”
“I don’t know,” I told him. “I’ve got something to do, first. I’ll see you tonight.”
I went outside, pulling my phone out of my pocket. Then I realized I didn’t even have Grace’s number—she had mine—and I had no clue what hotel she was going to. I stared at my phone for a few seconds, trying to think.
Then I searched a list of hotels in town and got down to work.
Chapter Eight
Grace
I chose the Best Western Aveline Bay, a shabby little motel about a mile from Cullen’s house.
At only fifty dollars a night, it wasn’t in the nicest section of town. But it had a free continental breakfast and I figured I could stretch Cullen’s money that way.
I settled Ella down in the rented playpen for her nap and set about filling the fridge with some of the items I’d taken from his house and organizing the cereals and dry foods in the kitchenette. Once that was done, I looked around th
e room, with its outdated furniture and boxy TV and wondered what the hell I was going to do next.
At the shelter, they’d told me I should apply for public assistance, which. They gave me a list of websites I needed to access. I’d have to use the computer at the public library, but of course, I’d have to wait until Ella woke up. I pulled out a newspaper I’d found in the lobby of the hotel and started to read through the Help Wanted ads. As if I could ever take a job paying minimum wage with a baby to watch.
As I was lying on my stomach on the bed, thinking this was hopeless, I was suddenly jarred by the loudest ringing of a phone I’d ever heard.
I jumped up, just as Ella started to wail.
Scooping up the receiver, I snapped, “Yeah?”
“Grace?”
It was Cullen.
I peered down at Ella and tucked her in, and she started sucking her thumb, nodding off again, thank God. I whispered, “What?”
“Great to hear from you, too, sweetheart.” His voice was gruff. Sexy. Relaxed. After last night, it seemed now all he had to do was speak and I felt myself getting wet.
“What do you want, Cullen?” I hissed out.
“You, baby.”
I gripped the receiver in my hand and fell back against the cushioned headboard. “Are you drunk?”
“No. But look. There’s been a change of plans. I think you’d be safer either leaving town altogether or coming back to my place.”
I straightened. “I’m not leaving,” I spit out immediately. I’d never been anywhere but here. Going away, with Ella? That scared me more than anything. But for him to suggest it, something must’ve been happened. “What’s going on?”
“Listen,” he said. “Just sit tight there. You’re at the Best Western?”
“Yes. Room two-ten.”
“Geez, could you have picked someplace better than that shithole? Bad part of town over there.”
“Didn’t want you accusing me of wasting your money.”
“I wouldn’t do that.”
“Oh yes, you would,” I said with a bitter laugh. “You—”
“Hey, I don’t want to argue. I’ll be there later tonight. I got some stuff to do first.”
And he hung up without so much as a goodbye.
I would’ve slammed the phone down on the hook if Ella hadn’t been three feet away. Instead, I hung up quietly, stewing. Go here. Do this. Sit. Beg. He really did think women were his little puppies to command, didn’t he? So now he wanted me back in his house, a house that had gotten ripped apart by bullets because of his association with his stupid motorcycle gang.
Gee, thanks for the offer, but no thanks.
And yet, as I sat there, thinking about the way he’d made me feel last night, I knew I was powerless to actually say that to him.
I looked down at sleeping Ella. “Don’t let the way he talks to me fool you. Believe it or not,” I whispered to her, “your daddy used to be quite the romantic.”
My thoughts slipped to the past. Straddling the back of Cullen’s bike, my arms wrapped around his strong back, that was where I felt safe. Protected, Loved. Once, we rode off together to the beach, my tits were pressed up against him. Every once in a while, I’d let my hands roam over his body. My hands, my fingers gliding over the bulge of his cock through his jeans.
We’d parked on the side of the road and hand in hand, made our way to a secluded cove that he used to go to when he was younger, where the sand was as white and fine as powder. He had pulled out a blanket that I hadn’t known he’d brought. “You think you’re getting lucky?” I’d asked him, surprised.
A corner of his mouth quirked up. “I’m already lucky, baby,” he’d said. “I got you.”
He’d spread out the blanket, and we watched the sunset, arms wrapped around each other. We’d kissed like no one else existed, with the seagulls crying out in the distance, the waves lapping at our bare feet.
Then, he slowly undressed me, worshipping my body, taking care with his explorations, licking each and every part of me, before he’d slowly entered me. Buried deep inside me, he’d whispered how much I’d meant to him, as he fisted the blanket and gazed into my eyes. “And you got me,” he’d said. “You’ve always got me.”
Growing up, I never believed much in love. My parents fought all the time. My dad walked out when I was twelve, and my mother, desperate for a man to love her, invited a string of total losers into our house, most of whom wound up hitting on me. I was raped by one of them, and when my mother found out, she was so beside herself with guilt that she killed herself. If love existed, it was meant for other people, not me.
But that night was the first night ever that I could see my future. The first night I had believed I could find love. That I could be Cinderella and live the fairy tale.
That night, I’d been so happy, I cried. Cullen asked me what was wrong, and I just moved closer to his naked body and told him that nothing could possibly be wrong. I had been crying because everything was so right.
And then . . . then it all fell apart.
All it took was a couple of weeks for that fairy tale to crumble. For the dreams I’d been amassing in my head to be torn apart. Cullen started spending more and more time with his gang, and some days, he didn’t even come home.
I fell back against the pillow and stared at the ceiling. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to trust Cullen completely again.
Not now.
I looked over at sleeping Ella, so sweet and angelic, her shriveled thumb at her little bow lips.
I had so much more to lose now.
Chapter Nine
Cullen
Whenever I called church, I liked to be there early. I rode down the deserted pier, toward a setting sun, sinking beneath clouds. The massive white warehouse, once a place for storing shipping containers, loomed in the distance. As I approached, I saw two bikes already lined up outside.
I parked beside them and went in to the clubhouse.
The first thing I saw was Hart running his hands through his red hair. “Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me,” he kept saying, over and over again as he paced the room. Jet was there as well, slumped on a chair, looking equally spooked.
“Dude. Thanks for the invitation, but I’ll pass,” I said, striding in and dropping my shit at the table in front of the room, where I usually sat when I conducted church. “What the fuck’s going on?”
They looked at each other. Then Hart pulled out his laptop. Hart, our tech guy, had that laptop more attached to him than his own ass. He opened it and showed me a picture. I leaned forward, looking close at two men, who appeared to be in heavy discussion. “That’s Bruiser from the Fury.”
He nodded and pointed to the other guy. “That’s Walsh.”
Walsh dealt in stolen arms from overseas. “So they’re buying up weapons.”
Hart nodded. “A lot of weapons from the looks of it. I heard a couple of people online say that Bruiser’s been getting in huge shipments. If those are guns, then they’re prepping for an all-out war.”
Just then, Drake and Nix showed up. I checked my phone. As usual, Zain was late. I paced the floor as Hart filled the other guys in. “So what does this mean?” Jet asked.
“It means just what we said,” Nix grumbled. “That we should’ve wiped ‘em off the face of the fucking earth when we had the chance.”
I held out my hands. “Now hold on. Yeah. But look at it this way. They’re building up their defenses probably because they expect us to go in there and rain hell on them.”
Jet frowned. “They had another choice. They could’ve disbanded.”
I shook my head. “After what happened last month, they still had more members than we did. They’d never just disband. Even without Blaze to lead them.”
“But the point is, they’re gathering strength,” Drake said. “And we’re the first targets they’re gonna go after.”
“No. Now listen. I don’t know Slade like I knew Blaze,” I said, hopping up onto the table and res
ting my hands on my knees. “But we still don’t know what we’re up against. Maybe Slade’s just out to protect his guys.”
Jet raised a doubtful eyebrow.
“Hell, it’s what I’d do for you. If the Fury was on our asses, I’d make damned sure I’d built up our reserves to make sure they didn’t try anything. That might be all Slade’s trying to do.”
Nix leaned back in his chair. “So what are you proposing? You proposing you meet with him?”
I nodded.
Zain walked in just then, as all four of the other guys were staring at me like I was insane. Zain frowned. “Shit. I missed something big again, didn’t I?”
Drake hung his head. “Our esteemed leader is going to try to make nice with the enemy.”
I shot Zane a hard look. “When I say eight, I mean eight. Not eight o five. Not eight thirty. Eight.” I turned to Drake who looked surprised at my firmness. “Not make nice. But if we can avoid an all-out war, we ought to. I don’t want to lose any of you. I don’t want to put any of you guys in a bloodbath if I don’t have to, got it?”
Nix nodded. “Makes sense.”
Thank fuck I had him on my side. Now the rest of the club would agree. As I slipped off the table, it hit me. I’d have to somehow find a way to communicate with their new president. A guy I barely knew. What I knew of Slade was that he was from overseas and did a lot of travelling. He hadn’t even been at the altercation last month. People called him cocky, smooth, elusive, quiet. Unlike, Blaze, he liked to fly under the radar.
“Hart,” I said. “How do I get in front of him?”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to do something face to face, Cullen,” Hart warned. “He’d insist it be on his turf and it’d be too risky. I’ll get a message to them that you want to have a call.”
“All right. Do it soon. This can’t wait. The sooner we put out these sparks, the sooner we can go back to the way things were,” I said, thinking of Grace.
The way things were? It was funny how people never knew they were in the good old days until after they’d passed. I might never have had truly good days before, but when I thought about those months with Grace, I knew something for sure.