Strider’s Misstep (Mayhem Makers: Wretched Soulz MC)

Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

JASMINE

S trider’s phone ringing breaks the tension, and honestly, I’m not sorry to have a moment alone to process everything he’s thrown at me. But I am disturbed to be left with his wife. What if she has some kind of episode? I’m completely out of my depth. While I usually think I’m an empathic person, it’s eerie sitting here with someone who looks more like they belong in the next world than in this. Her breathing is loud, laboured, and I can see the rise and fall of her chest, but otherwise, there’s no sign there’s an actual person in there.

What could it have been like for her? Did she know she was slowly becoming a living corpse? Did she understand what she was losing? And, as for Strider, I shudder and suppress a sob at the thought of watching the woman he was, and clearly still is, so in love with, simply fading away. It must have been torture each and every day.

He cheated on her.

He did. But men, women, fuck, all of us have needs. It’s obviously been a very long time since she was able to satisfy him, probably years from what he was saying. Bikers are definitely not saints, and with all the temptation around him, I can’t criticise him for not being content with using his hand. I’d think worse if he took advantage and got his rocks off with a comatose woman.

He read my book . And isn’t that embarrassing? Why didn’t he pick up one of the first three instead? The ones where I hadn’t subconsciously allowed my inner cravings to seep out through my words. In this one, I’d known my characters were me and him, but there didn’t seem any harm in imagining a future that I most desired. It was all in my head though. I knew my dreams were just that. Strider had pulled away and now I know with good reason. It had been therapeutic to write down musings, hopes that could never come true. Letting my fictional character enjoy what might have been. For just a short while, I’d allowed myself to dream.

Anna makes a soft sound that makes me jump, but she doesn’t appear to have moved or show she needs or wants anything. She’s the reason Strider rightly couldn’t commit to a relationship with me. At least it wasn’t something in me that was lacking, but a prior commitment on his part. I try to take comfort in that thought.

But where does that leave me now?

It’s been more than a couple of minutes since Strider left the room, but that’s nothing new. I know the business of an MC prez can be complicated and take up a lot of his time. It’s one of the things I use to add detail to my books—the man at the top needs to be dedicated to protecting the club, which often involves sacrificing his private life. He runs businesses, both legal and those that probably cross the line, and is the backstop for all the problems his brothers might have. We’ve often been interrupted by a phone call or knock on the door.

I sit, my body tense, feeling uncomfortable, as my eyes flick toward Anna as though constantly checking she’s still alive. I wouldn’t be human if I wasn’t consumed with compassion for her and such a waste of a life. I can’t tell how old she is, but if she was at school with Strider, then she’s the same age, making her ten years my senior, barely middle-aged.

“Colt’s a good man.” Startled, having been lost in my thoughts, I glance up. The nurse has returned and she’s carrying a tray. On it is perched a cup with the aroma of coffee and some creamer and sugar. She places it in front of me and gives me a wane smile.

“I half think I should be offering you something stronger,” she starts, then at my raised brow adds, “I take it you didn’t know about her? Or at least her condition.”

Eyeing the bounty put in front of me, I realise that she’s probably right. I’m in need of some stimulant, but coffee will have to do for now. As I doctor the brew to my satisfaction, I answer her. “I didn’t even know he was married.” It must have been the way I all but spat out the words that caused her to give an exaggerated eye roll. It’s clear she thinks I’m his bit on the side, so I hastily explain, “It has always been casual between us. Strider never made any promises or led me on.”

She studies me, and I wonder what’s going through her mind. Does she think I’m a whore, just a bed warmer? Well, then she’d be right. But rather than offering criticism, she checks on her charge, then returns to me, taking a seat on the armchair opposite. Rather than sitting back, she leans her elbows on her knees, places her chin on her hands and continues to make her visual assessment.

The silence starts making me feel awkward until, at last, her mouth opens to let words come out. “You’re part of Colt’s club?”

How do I answer? I give a shrug. “Kind of. I live and… work there.” I hope she won’t notice my slight hesitation, but if she probes, I can rightly say I’m a bartender for the most part. Considering the last few months, that’s not a lie.

She seems content with that answer. “Hardly anyone from there comes around. And no one recently.” Lines appear on her forehead as she frowns. “I see it as a positive step that you’re here now. Colt’s been dealing with this all on his own for a very long time.”

Bowing my head, I shake it from side to side. “I think it’s the opposite.” Feeling no animosity from this unknown woman, I decide to come clean. “There’s nothing between me and Strider, Colt . Or there shouldn’t be. Both of us knew the score. Though he didn’t tell me about Anna, he made it clear that we weren’t in a relationship that was going anywhere.” I swallow. There’s something about this woman, maybe the empathy, that makes her a good nurse, but I suddenly have an urge to confide. “I, er, couldn’t hide my feelings that I wanted more.” Well, writing them in that damn book had made it obvious. “That’s why he brought me to meet Anna, so I could understand we’d never be anything more.”

She seems to ignore me, instead imparting more information. “Anna wouldn’t be alive now if he’d done what most do and consigned her to the hospital. She’d have given up long before now.” She stares at me, checking that I’m taking her words in. “He pays for full-time care. I’m just one of three nurses on rotation.”

When she pauses, I think she’s waiting for some platitude. I give it to her. “He loves her a lot.”

The nurse gives a slow, non-committal nod. “He loved her once. But now? If you ask me, it’s guilt that makes him give her everything he’s got.”

“Wouldn’t anyone?”

“Hell no.” She barks a laugh. “When it gets this hard, when the person loses all of themselves, hospice care is usually the option.” She gives me a piercing gaze. “He hasn’t brought anyone here before.” She gestures toward the woman in the wheelchair. “Anna’s not got much time left. You think you’re here to see he’s committed to someone else? I think it’s so you can see what he’s facing. Colt will need someone when she’s gone.”

Is she suggesting I wait around for someone to die before making a move on the man? Before answering, I consider. Maybe I have been hanging around the club, probably outstaying my welcome, hoping that Strider would notice me and want me as the woman in his life. His reaction to the pregnancy should have been a huge red flag, but I buried my head in the sand and hung on, trying to read something different in his reaction to what it really was. But by bringing me here, I can see how much Strider loves his wife. Being with me was only ever a way to satisfy his male urges, which she could no longer fulfil. And, dead or alive, she’s always going to be number one in his life. While I’m unable to compete with a living woman, it’s unlikely I’d ever win out over a ghost.

Coming here has shown me there’s absolutely no hope.

I feel for Strider. My heart breaks knowing he’s soon going to lose the love of his life. That he’s not approached me for sex in months, that he’s been avoiding me, shows I’ve become a distraction rather than a comfort. That’s not going to change. Strider’s got his brothers to be there for him, and Haley or Kat, the other club girls, if he needs his itch scratched.

I finish my coffee, pick up my bag and rise. “Can you tell Strider that I understand?”

She too gets to her feet and brushes her hand over her tidy hair. She sounds anxious. “Don’t go. I didn’t mean to chase you out.”

“You didn’t,” I rush to reassure her. “I heard what you said, but I’ve received his message loud and clear.” In my head, my plans are already made. I’ll call an Uber, go back to the club, pack, and then leave town. A motel room will suffice until I find something permanent. I’ve got money in my bank account, and as long as I keep publishing books readers want, enough to live on, hopefully, coming in month to month.

Her hands wring together. “At least wait until Colt comes back inside and tell him yourself.”

I shrug, and huff. “He’s brought me here to explain why he can’t offer me anything.”

Taking a step toward me, she places her hand on my arm. “Don’t give up on him, please. However much he wills Anna to recover, that’s one thing she won’t be doing. He’ll need someone…” Her voice trails off, and I fill in the blanks.

But I can’t be someone who can make up for the true love he’s lost. I need to be wanted for me, not as a substitute for someone else.

Giving her a nod to show I acknowledge her words, even if I don’t accept them, I edge out of the door. Casting my eyes to my left, I see Strider standing outside the back door. Turning in the other direction, I head out of the main entrance. I exit quietly, walk past the SUV, down to the fence, then walk another few yards before pulling out my phone to summon a rideshare.

How he can move so quietly, I’ll never know, but a deep voice sounds from beside me.

“Running out without saying goodbye?”

Mentally, I’m already one step removed from him, the decision made to leave the club, and therefore his influence, though he’ll never lose the respect I hold for him. Therefore, I don’t feel like a child caught red-handed and make no excuses. “There’s nothing more to be said between us.”

Placing his hand on my shoulder, he swings me around to face him. “I brought you here so you could understand?—”

“I understand, alright,” I interrupt, not allowing him to finish. My palm finds his chest, feeling the fast beating of his heart. “I came to the club when I was desperate. I was prepared to do whatever it took to get sanctuary. But somehow, I was lucky enough to catch your eye.” When he goes to speak, I shake my head. “It’s not your fault. You made it plain all along, but I allowed hope to build up in my mind.”

Strider rolls his head back and emits a long sigh. “It’s not all on your side.” He lowers his eyes, catching mine. “Anna’s dying.”

“Strider,” I say as gently as I can. “I couldn’t compete with the real woman, and I won’t be able to compete when she’s not alive. She holds your heart. I can’t take second place, not now, not in the future.”

At that point, the Uber I called turns up. It’s my cue to leave, not to extend this, not to draw out the painful end to something that never really began. I hold out my hand. Bemused, he stares at it for a moment before moving to take it.

I give a quick shake, but he squeezes and holds on tight.

“No, Strider,” I force myself to say firmly. “I hope you can find peace in your future, but I’ve nothing to offer you.” Under my breath, I add the word now. Who knows what the years ahead will bring? Maybe at some point, our two lost souls might rediscover each other. But he’s got his life to lead, which unfortunately includes watching his one love die.

He opens his mouth, but I reclaim my hand, step to the Uber, open the door, and sit inside.

I don’t look back. With the tears in my eyes, I wouldn’t see much even if I had. I don’t know if he waited until I was out of sight or immediately went back inside.

As we approach the compound, I use a tissue to dry my eyes, apply some makeup to hopefully hide some of the redness, but there’s no way to disguise the fact that I’ve been crying. Trying to keep my head down, I wave my hand in acknowledgment to a greeting someone calls out, exit the back of the clubhouse, and make my way to the room that I’ve lived in for the last three years.

For a moment, I stand at the door, considering the space. It’s furnished like so many others—bed, closet, drawers, desk and a television on the wall. I made it my own with a colourful rug on the floor, and the cheerful bed coverings. It might not be much, but it’s felt more like home than any place I’ve resided. Because of Strider. And my foolish hopes.

Telling myself I’m not the same broken girl as I’d been when I’d arrived, I draw out the shabby suitcase from under the bed and start to fill it with my clothes and personal items. It doesn’t take long to pack. The last thing, my precious laptop, goes into my backpack. Glancing around one more time, I realise I’m leaving behind some of the stuff that made this room mine. I’ll leave it for some other club girl. Someone else to warm Strider’s bed.

Unable to continue thinking along those lines, I blink back more tears, then quickly go to the door, open it, step through and leave my key in the lock outside. I pause for a second. Am I doing the right thing? Could I stay? I don’t see how. Strider will need space to manage his grief. It would be better if I wasn’t around. Knowing what I do now, it would break my heart all over again if I was used as a prop to lean on. Straightening my shoulders, I grab the handle of my suitcase and swing around.

“Jesus!” My hand goes over my fast-beating heart. “Warn a girl next time, will ya?”

The massive form of Shotgun, leaning against the wall, as if he’d been waiting for me, vibrates with laughter. He grins unapologetically and nods toward my luggage. “Going somewhere?”

I sigh. “It’s time,” I reply.

He heaves in a breath, then sighs and hazards a guess. “You went off with Strider. He took you to see his wife.”

Knowledge or conjecture? Well, either way, it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t wait for my confirmation.

“You might not think it, but you’ve made yourself a place in this club. You don’t need to work on your back to stay here. Surely you must know that by now?”

My eyes widen as my head moves side to side. “I’ve been taking advantage. I’ve got my own career and can move out and support myself.”

He shrugs. “Just because you can stand on your own two feet doesn’t mean you have to. Hey, Jas, we all like you being here. You run things for us.” His lips turn up into a smile. “I don’t think you realise how much we’ve come to depend on you to keep the club girls in line, food on the table, and the right drinks on the bar. Why don’t you stay, Jassy?” The last is said in a cajoling tone.

I’m surprised the offer is being made. All I’ve ever done is make myself useful to continue to have a roof over my head. I hadn’t realised they’d appreciated me in that way. How much would it take to persuade me to stay? But as I feel myself weakening, the thought of Strider comes into my mind. How could I cope with seeing him around the club, knowing what a fool I’ve been.

I came here for protection. That was three long years ago. In the intervening time, there’s been no sign of Barclay. It must be safe for me to leave now. Why would he still be looking for me? Yes, it’s time for me to go. Time to build a new life.

As the thoughts go through my head, I notice Shotgun has taken out his phone and is texting, seemingly oblivious to my presence.

Great. Yeah, like I’m so important when he’s clearly got other things on his mind.

Now, I have no reluctance in saying, “I need to go. It’s time. Past time.” I pull back my shoulders and take hold of the handle of my suitcase again.

He spares me a glance, examines the commitment on my face, then nods. Without words, he takes my luggage from my hand and precedes me through the corridor and out into the clubroom.

I come to an abrupt halt. There, in front of me, is Buzz, Tequila, and half a dozen other members. Their arms are folded, and they are forming a barrier between me and the door.