Dutch (BLP Motorcycle Clubs #4)

23. Makari

The room was closing in on me. I paced the floor in Dutch's bedroom. Darian's words echoed in my skull like a fucked-up carnival ride. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror on the dresser. I was coming apart at the seams, and I couldn't seem to find the thread to stitch myself up.

I wanted to know what Darian was talking about. I spun on my heels and marched back down those stairs. Dutch was watching me from the couch, his face a mask of concern. He thought he was slick sending me upstairs, but he knew what was coming.

"Do you want to tell me what the hell Darian was talking about? Because from where I'm standing, it sounds like you've been playing me this whole time."

The room went silent. He looked at me, but his walls slammed up. He leaned forward with his head in his hands.

"Listen—"

"No, you listen. I trusted you. I thought you were different, but now I'm wondering if you are another snake in the grass waiting to strike," I snapped, not falling for his shit.

Dutch stood up. His movements were deliberate and slow, like a wounded animal. Maybe he was, but shit, so was I. I was exposed and raw.

"It's not what you think. There's more to the story than what Darian told you."

I laughed. "Isn't there always? You MC boys and your half-truths. I'm sick of it, Dutch. I'm sick of always being the last to know and always one step behind."

I wasn't sure we could bridge the gap between us. Dutch's face was a storm of emotion, frustration, and regret, and though I wanted to believe him and trust there was an explanation for all of this, there was also that part of me that had been burned before. That part told me to run and protect myself.

Unable to look at him any longer, I turned away. My mind was a battlefield. Suspicion and loyalty were at war with each other. I couldn't figure out how I allowed myself to get here tangled up in more lies.

"You deserve the truth. You already know we were on the force together. We ran a few jobs together, but I swear that wasn't my style. I was unknowingly a part of an ambush that got some people killed. The ring and the story about the setup and Darian causing my partner to get killed.

I crossed my arms. "Oh, that's comforting, so you have a style when it comes to crime?"

"I'm not proud of my past, Makari. That's why I got out of law enforcement. Everything I've done after that was to protect.”

I scoffed. "By lying to me, is that how you protect me? By keeping me in the dark when you had a connection to the man who had a hand in my brother's death?"

My words hit their mark. Dutch's face fell, but I couldn't feel sorry for him. Not the way my world had been turned upside down again.

"Tell me something. Is there anything you've told me that's actually true? Or have I been a pawn in this game the whole time?"

Dutch stepped toward me, his hazel eyes on fire. "Dammit, Makari, I'm trying to explain! I thought I was protecting you by keeping you out of this mess!" Dutch defended.

A hysterical laugh escaped me. The irony was too much. "You know what? You're no better than Jahlil. At least he never pretended to care after he stabbed me in the back."

Those words left my mouth before I could stop them, and they hit Dutch like a physical blow. For a second, I wanted to take them back when his face crumpled and his tough exterior cracked. I wanted to take it back, but my anger and hurt were too raw.

"I'm nothing like Jahlil. Everything I've done for you."

Tears filled my eyes, and I was beyond listening now. "Save it. You're a user like the rest. I can't… do this anymore."

I turned my back to him. How could I have been so blind? My chest was tight, and I couldn't breathe.

"I told you Darian had it out for me. He's playing you. Can't you see that?"

I turned around. "I hear you. It's Darian's fault, how convenient."

Dutch ran a hand over his head. "It's not that simple to explain. You don't know what it was like. I made choices that I had no idea would get anyone hurt."

I rolled my eyes. "You still chose to work with him."

"No, I chose not to work with him. That's why that nigga has a vendetta against me. He couldn't do his dirt with a new partner. I fucked with his money, with his livelihood. That's why he retaliated against me, getting my partner killed and vowing to go after you because he knew what you meant to me. That's why I broke it off with you back then."

The sincerity in Dutch's voice made my chest ache. I wanted so badly to believe him, but every time I did, here came another piece to the puzzle.

"I then joined the MC in an effort to change my life. It was a way to do good. We did things for the community. It was a brotherhood."

I was caught between my feelings for Dutch and the harsh reality of his past.

"I know you need space, but I need you to know I'm not giving up on us this time," he quietly informed me.

I squeezed my eyes shut, stopping my tears before they could fall. "There might not be an 'us' to give up on."

When I gathered enough courage to open my eyes, the look on his face damn near broke me.

"This situation is fucked up but losing you it's not an option I'm willing to accept."

I headed back upstairs. I had a lot to process, and I needed to do it alone.