Echoes of Secrets (Obsidian MC #7)

Chapter Three

Mitchell

“Brother, which club do you want to work tonight?” Taylor asks.

Taylor and I go way back. Years ago, he walked into my old club and took over like he owned the place. To be fair, the President at the time was a first-class asshole, so I sat back and enjoyed the show. By the time the dust settled, Taylor had turned chaos into order, and I knew I wanted to be part of whatever he was building.

I’ve been riding with him and a few others ever since. Now, we’re part of the Obsidian MC, a brotherhood as solid as the name suggests. Taylor owns a private security firm, Obsidian Security, and I work for him there too.

This group is my family. They’re loyal, fierce, and as solid as they come. And yet, no matter how much I want to, I can’t let them in on my secret.

I wish they knew the real me.

But they can’t.

“I’ll take the Cage,” I answer, leaning back in my chair.

Taylor nods, his sharp gaze lingering on me for a second too long. He’s got this way of reading people that makes you feel like he’s peeling back your layers. I don’t know if it’s just me being paranoid, but sometimes I think he sees right through the walls I’ve built.

Then again, he is Knox’s husband. I don’t think Knox would reveal whatever it is he’s dug up about me to his husband, but I could be wrong.

“You good?” he asks.

“Always,” I lie, flashing him a grin.

His lips twitch like he doesn’t quite believe me, but he doesn’t push.

“They’ve got a delivery coming in tonight. Routine, but I need someone dependable on it. You’re my guy.”

“Got it.” I stand, grabbing my cut from the back of the chair. “I’ll check in when it’s done.”

Taylor gives me a nod, but as I turn to leave, I feel the weight of his gaze on my back.

Evie

The Cage isn’t exactly my idea of a good time, but I come here every so often to see Emily. She works behind the bar, slinging drinks like it’s an art form, and if I didn’t stop by now and then, she’d never let me hear the end of it.

It isn’t my kind of place, though. The pounding bass, the crush of bodies, the overwhelming smell of sweat, and spilled liquor all made me want to bolt for the door. But Emily loved working here, and she was my best friend. If my coming to this chaotic corner of the world once in a while makes her happy, I can handle it.

Navigating through the crowd with my crutches is tricky, but I’ve gotten used to it. Most people move out of the way when they see me coming, though a few are too absorbed in their own worlds to notice.

I finally reach the bar and spot Emily at the far end, flipping a bottle in the air before pouring a perfect shot into a glass. Her dark hair is pulled into a messy bun, and she has that wild grin she always gets when she’s in her element.

I start toward her but stop when I notice something out of the corner of my eye.

A man is leaning too close to a woman who looks like she wants to be anywhere else. He murmurs something in her ear, and while she turns to look at his face, he drops something into her drink.

My stomach twists.

Without thinking, I push my way toward them, my heart pounding as I close the distance. When I reach the bar, I grab the drink before the woman can touch it and dump the contents onto the floor.

“What the hell?” the man snaps, spinning around to face me.

“She’s not drinking that,” I say, my voice braver than I feel.

The woman blinks, clearly confused, but it’s the man’s reaction I am bracing for. He steps closer, anger flashing in his eyes.

“You’ve got some nerve,” he hisses.

“And you’ve got some nerve trying to drug her drink,” I shoot back, gripping the edge of the bar for balance.

The man’s lips curls into a sneer, and before I can react, his fist comes flying.

The punch catches me on the jaw, the force of it sending me sprawling. Pain explodes in my face as I hit the ground, my crutches clattering to the side. My missing leg made it impossible to catch myself.

I can feel everyone’s eyes on me as I try to sit up.

“Mitchell!” someone yells over the noise.

I don’t know who Mitchell is, but within seconds, a very tall and broad man was standing over me.

“What the hell’s going on here?” he barks, his voice slicing through the chaos like a knife.

The man who punched me stammers, his anger replaced by nervousness. “Sh…she dumped the drink…”

Mitchell, at least, that’s who I’m guessing this is, doesn’t even look at him. His sharp eyes are on me, taking in my crutches, my missing leg, and the way I’m clutching my jaw.

“Did he hit you?”

I nod, my voice caught somewhere between my throat and the pit of my stomach.

Mitchell’s expression hardens. He grabs the man by the collar and hauls him to his feet like he weighs nothing.

“Outside. Now,” he growls, dragging him through the crowd and out the door.

For a moment, all I can do is sit here and try to catch my breath. My jaw throbs and the stares from the crowd are almost worse than the punch itself.

“Evie!”

I turn to see Emily rushing over from behind the bar, her face pale with worry. She crouches beside me, her hands fluttering uselessly for a moment before she grabs my crutches and sits them against a chair.

“Are you okay?” she asks, her voice tight.

“I’m fine,” I answer, though the ache in my jaw begs to differ.

“You don’t look fine,” comes a deep voice behind her.

I glance up to see Mitchell standing there, his sharp features set in a frown. He crouches down, his presence commanding but not overbearing.

“You alright?” he asks, his tone softer than before. “The truth.”

I nod, though I knew it wasn’t convincing. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” he says flatly, his eyes narrowing slightly. He turns to Emily. “Get her some ice, Em.”

Emily nods and hurries off, leaving me alone with Mitchell.

“What were you thinking?” he says, his voice a mix of frustration and something that almost sounds like admiration.

I meet his gaze, squaring my shoulders despite the throbbing pain. “He tried to drug a woman. There was no way in hell I was just going to go about my night knowing something might happen to her. So, I did something about it. That’s what I was thinking.”

His lips twitch, the faintest hint of a smile breaking through. “Fair enough.”

Emily returns with a bag of ice, and Mitchell hands it to me, his movements careful.

“Let me carry you to a booth,” he offers, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“I don’t need to be carried, Goliath,” I say, ignoring my inner self screaming at me to shut up and let this beefcake hold me in his more-than-capable arms. “I may only have one leg, but I’ve managed so far.”

“At least allow me to help you, then,” he smiles.

I hesitate a moment before agreeing. “Thanks,” I say quietly.

“Goliath?” he smirks as he helps me stand. Gripping my crutches, I smile up at him.

“You’re a very big man,” I explain. “It was the first thing that came to mind.”

“Ah,” he smirks. “Gotcha. Wasn’t Goliath a bad man?”

“Honestly, I don’t know,” I say. “I think he’s more like a sense of moral wrongdoing. He’s a symbol of opposition to God.”

“Religious scholar?” he asks as he guides me to the closest booth.

“Not even close,” I laugh. “I attend church twice a year on Christmas and Easter. My dad was a Preacher. I was his test dummy for his weekly sermons.”

Mitchell chuckles as he guides me to my seat, his hand hovering near my elbow, not quite touching but close enough to catch me if I stumble.

“A Preacher’s kid, huh?” he says, his tone light but curious. “That explains the fire.”

I settle into the booth with a wince, the throbbing in my jaw making itself known again. “Fire? You mean the part where I got punched in the face? Or the part where I dumped out a drink in front of an entire bar of strangers?”

He raises an eyebrow, sliding into the seat across from me. “The part where you stood up to a guy twice your size without hesitation. Most people would’ve walked the other way.”

“Well,” I say, pressing the ice pack to my face, “most people aren’t me.”

He studies me for a moment, and I can’t quite read the expression in his dark eyes. Amusement? Respect? Something else entirely?

“Noted,” he says finally, leaning back in the booth.

Emily appears then, carrying a glass of water that she sits in front of me. “Here,” she says, her tone brisk. “Drink it, Evie. You need to hydrate.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I tease, taking a sip.

“Don’t start,” she warns, narrowing her eyes at me. “You’re lucky Mitchell was here. That guy could’ve done a lot worse.”

I shoot him a quick glance. “What happened to him?”

“Let’s just say he won’t be back,” Mitchell says, his voice even, but the steel beneath it sends a shiver down my spine.

Emily nods, satisfied, before turning her attention back to me. “You sure you’re okay? Do you want me to take you home?”

“I’m fine,” I assure her, though I wasn’t entirely sure that was true. My legless leg is starting to tingle. That’s never a good sign. “I’ll just sit here for a while until the room stops spinning.”

Emily hesitates, then glances at Mitchell. “You keeping an eye on her?”

“Yeah,” he says without missing a beat.

She gives a short nod and disappears back to the bar, leaving me alone with him again.

“So,” I say, breaking the silence, “do you make a habit of saving damsels in distress?”

His lips twitch, and for the second time tonight, I catch the faintest hint of a smile. “You don’t strike me as the damsel type.”

“I’m not,” I say firmly. “But I appreciate the help. Really.”

He nods, his expression softening. “You’ve got guts, standing up to him like that. Most people wouldn’t have the courage.”

“Yeah, well,” I say, shrugging, “I figured if I didn’t do something, I’d be thinking about it all night. And for what it’s worth, I’m not sorry.”

“Good,” he says, his tone steady. “You shouldn’t be.”

The noise of the Cage swirls around us, and for a moment, it feels like we’re in our own little bubble. His presence is steadying, grounding, and despite the chaos of the night, I feel oddly safe.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks again after a beat.

I nod, lowering the ice pack. “I’ve had worse.”

His brow furrows slightly, but he doesn’t press. Instead, he leans back and crosses his arms, his gaze thoughtful. “You’re tougher than you look, Evie.”

The way he says my name causes something to flutter in my chest. I brush it off quickly, blaming the adrenaline.

“And you’re bigger than you look, Goliath,” I shoot back, smirking.

He chuckles, the sound low and warm. “Fair enough. But I still think Goliath was the bad guy.”

I laugh despite the ache in my jaw. “Maybe he was. I’ll have to think of a new name for you next time.”

“There’s going to be a next time?” he asks. The smirk that spread across his face was almost enough to distract me from the pain. Almost.

“Who knows,” I say, pulling out my phone and ordering a ride. “Stranger things have happened.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay and hang out with Emily?” he asks. “I have to get back to work, and she keeps glaring at me from behind the bar.”

“She’s just protective,” I laugh. “And I really should get home. My missing leg is going to start hurting soon, and I’d rather already be in my bed when it does.”

Mitchell’s smirk fades slightly, replaced by a flicker of something I can’t quite place. Concern? Curiosity?

“Phantom pain?” he asks, his tone softer now.

“Yeah,” I say, avoiding his gaze as I fiddle with the ice pack in my hands. “It’s worse when I’ve been on my feet too much. Or, you know, when I get punched in the face.”

He chuckles lightly at that, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Does it happen often? The pain, I mean.”

“More than I’d like,” I admit. “But it’s just part of life now. I’ve learned to deal with it.”

Mitchell leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. “You shouldn’t have to deal with it alone, though.”

I glance up, surprised by the weight of his words. For a moment, I can’t think of a response. There’s something about the way he’s looking at me… steady, unflinching… that makes it hard to brush him off with a sarcastic comment.

“I’m not really alone,” I say finally, gesturing vaguely toward the bar where Emily is still shooting daggers in our direction. “She’d take on the whole world for me if she could.”

His lips quirk into a small smile. “Seems like she’s not the only one willing to do that.”

The flutter in my chest returns, stronger this time. I force a laugh, trying to shake it off. “Well, I appreciate the backup tonight. Even if you’re way too tall to be my first choice for a knight in shining armor.”

He grins. “Too tall? That’s a first.”

“You wouldn’t fit in the armor,” I tease, standing and testing my balance on my crutches.

“Need a hand?” he offers, standing too.

“No, thanks. Those I’ve got. If you have a spare leg lying around, I’ll take that, though.”

I laugh at my own joke but notice that Mitchell does not. Deciding that it’s really time to get out of here, I glance down at my phone to check the status of my ride.

“My taxi will be here in a few minutes.”

Mitchell nods, but he doesn’t move to leave. Instead, he watches me with that same thoughtful expression, like he’s trying to figure me out.

“Well,” I say, feeling suddenly self-conscious under his gaze, “you should probably get back to work before Emily throws something at you.”

He chuckles, glancing over his shoulder at the bar. “She does look like she’s considering it.”

“She’s a great aim,” I warn him with a grin.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He looks back at me, his smile softening. “Take care of yourself, Evie. And don’t hesitate to call for backup if you need it.”

“Thanks, Mitchell,” I say, and I mean it.

As he turns and disappears back into the crowd, I can’t help but watch him go, my thoughts swirling.

Who knew coming to the Cage tonight would lead to this?

I shake my head, tucking my phone into my pocket and focusing on getting home. Whatever tonight was, it’s over now.

Time to get back to my pain-filled reality.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Em asks as I pass the bar.

I met Emily about the day after the accident that cost me my leg. She was a witness to the crash and had to hang around for a long while to give her statement. A truck driver fell asleep at the wheel. We were on the highway so both of us were driving the maximum speed limit. By the time we stopped rolling, my car was completely crushed under the truck. My right leg was pinned beneath the crushed metal. No one died, and I’m the only one that was injured.

Em was heading to work, actually, when it happened. She was right behind me. Luckily, she was far enough back that she was able to stop in time before she became part of the accident.

Emily kept returning to the hospital every day to check on me.

I was grateful because I had no one else. Well, I have my mom, but she doesn’t remember who I am. She lives at the Harborbrook nursing home. I make sure to visit her every week even though it hurts so much when she doesn’t recognize me.

“Tomorrow is Thanksgiving,” I remind her. “You aren’t open, remember?”

“Oh, that’s right,” she laughs as she hands someone a drink. “You doing anything?”

“Gonna go hang out with mom,” I admit. “Then I might just go home and sleep.”

“Well, if you change your mind, text me. My entire family is getting together to eat. I’d love for you to come.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude,” I say, shaking my head.

“It wouldn’t be an intrusion,” she tells me. “Mitchell will be there.”

Why would I care if he would be there?

“Why?” I ask. “Do you know him well?”

“He’s part of my family,” she laughs. “Remember the biker men and their families that I told you about?”

“As if I could forget,” I tell her, smiling at the stories of love and family that she’s told me over the past two years.

“He’s one of those bikers,” she admits. “Mitchell is, for lack of a better word, my brother. I bet he’d love it if you came.”

My phone buzzes with the notification that my ride is approaching.

“I’ll let you know,” I say, pocketing my phone. “My rides here. Later.”

“See ya.”

We both know that I have no intention of calling her tomorrow.