Chapter 5 Willa
Willa
At some point in the middle of the night, the bed warmed. Even with a pillow between us, I felt Dean climb in. He had disappeared before I left the bathroom, locking the door to his bedroom behind him. Part of me expected him to stay gone all night.
I don’t know where he went or what he did, and I don’t want to think about it. But by the time he returned, I was too sleepy for questions, so I rolled over and went back to sleep.
It was the deepest sleep I’ve had in years. While he’s Chaos to everyone else, to me, he still feels like home.
As I should have expected, he was gone again by the time morning rolled around. It was almost as if he hadn’t been here at all. If it weren’t for his rumpled pillow, I might have thought I imagined his warmth in the middle of the night.
I stare up at the ceiling, tracing a small crack from the center to the wall.
I don’t know if Dean is avoiding me by waking up this early or if this is normal for him, but it’s for the best. Especially after I made the mistake of stripping down to my underwear for him last night in an attempt to push his buttons.
Something about his calling me out for being a good girl pushes me to my breaking point every time.
Except, we aren’t kids anymore. And what I did last night didn’t feel innocent like the small ways we teased each other when we were younger.
Why am I even bothering trying to tease a man who clearly hates me?
I chose his brother. There’s no forgiving that, and there’s no going back.
Pulling the blanket over my head, I bury myself in darkness, like that can help me hide from this reality I’ve created. The sheets are fresh, smelling of floral detergent. But there’s an undercurrent of oak.
Of Dean.
He’s inescapable. An enigma.
He’s an ex-felon. A merciless biker. And yet, he washed his bed for me. He straightened up his room.
Then there are his walls, lined with photos of his travels. A jar of shells sits on his dresser beside a picture of his mom in a small frame. Beneath the hard exterior is still the guy who once told me he was going to travel to every state and stick his feet in every ocean.
It’s confusing.
My phone buzzes across the room, and I grumble. Maybe if I bury myself a little deeper, I can avoid the world today. I can pretend this moment is something different. I can imagine I’m in Dean’s bed for a different reason.
Closing my eyes, I try to picture it, but I can’t. All I see is Kincaid and the decision that damned us both.
My phone rings this time, and I throw the blanket off of me. I’m still in a T-shirt and underwear as I cross the room and grab my phone off the dresser. When I left Texas, I considered throwing my phone out the window halfway but didn’t. As my sister’s name flashes on the screen, I wish I had.
Eden: You can’t ignore me forever. I’m your sister.
Eden: Come on, Willa. It was a mistake. We were drinking, and he gave me a ride home. It wasn’t supposed to happen like that.
Eden: I’m sorry. It wasn’t even worth it.
It wasn’t even worth it?
I can’t help but laugh because what am I supposed to say to that statement?
Does she expect me to care that she traded my trust for bad sex with my fiancé?
I could have told her that Kincaid is a shitty lay.
He expects the woman to do all the work, and not once did he give me an orgasm.
It’s one of many reasons I stopped caring when he started cheating on me.
If anything, it was an excuse for him not to touch me anymore.
But for Eden to think she can complain to me about that?
Fuck both of them.
I turn my phone off and set it on the dresser. I don’t want her excuses when all I’ve done my entire life is protect her. I’m the buffer who made living with our father bearable for her. This is how she repays me? She burned the bridge, and now she can live with it.
Before Dean can return, I dip into the bathroom and quickly get changed. I repack my bag, checking the door to the bedroom a final time, finding it still locked.
At least there’s a window, so I have another way out. The wood groans as I shove it open. Dust kicks up like it hasn’t been opened in years.
The sun has barely crested the horizon, but the Vegas desert is already warming. It’s April, so the sun is still bearable, which will work in my favor since the clubhouse is in the middle of nowhere. I have a long walk back to the city.
With a final glance back at Dean’s room, I say goodbye to the man I once knew but apparently no longer do. Then I toss my bag through the window and climb after it.
The window almost smashes my fingers as I slip out of it. It slides closed so hard the wooden frame cracks at the corner.
I sling my bag over my shoulder and head in the direction of the road. Thankfully, most of the windows are closed with the curtains pulled tight, so I only have to crawl beneath a few of them.
Unlike last night when the clubhouse was vibrating from the music, it’s quiet this morning. The guys must be sleeping, and if that’s the case, I don’t want to think about where Dean decided to do that.
As I round the clubhouse, I take in the property. Sunrise kisses the ground, casting a beautiful glow. Wind tussles the sagebrush. The desert is in bloom this time of year. Splashes of yellow and orange dot the horizon.
The clubhouse appears to be the focal point of the land, with a few buildings farther out. It’s not clear what they use them for, and because of that, I probably don’t want to know. At a distance, there’s a collection of houses. A small neighborhood at the far end of the Twisted Kings property.
The hum of a motorcycle gets louder, and I press close to the clubhouse, staying hidden until it fades. Once it’s silent again, I peel myself off the side of the clubhouse and round the corner. Only to be stopped in my path by an annoyingly firm chest.
“Going somewhere, princess?” Dean smirks, towering over me.
God, he’s beautiful in the light of morning. His jaw is peppered in scruff, adding an edge to his already strong jawline. His messy dark hair falls to the ridge of his eyebrows. Broad shoulders square his frame.
He stands casually with his hands tucked in his pockets like he’s been waiting for me since I crawled out of his window.
My eyes narrow, and I roll my shoulders back, refusing to let him see my surprise. “Are you tracking me now?”
He shrugs one shoulder. “That’s not a bad idea. But no.”
Dean’s eyes move up as he angles his chin toward the clubhouse. A camera is tucked in the eaves, watching me. I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy to sneak away.
“I thought I made myself clear last night. You’re not going anywhere until I say so.” He scans my outfit when I tug on the hem of my very short shorts.
The small scrap of denim isn’t fancy, especially when paired with a black tank top and cowboy boots, but his throat works when his gaze pauses on my bare legs, stoking my confidence.
“I’m a big girl now, Dean. You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
“Is that so?”
I clear my throat, trying to keep my composure. “I gave you all the information I have on your brother’s business deal. There’s nothing else I can help you with.”
“Help me? You think that’s what I’m worried about right now? You almost died yesterday, Willa.” His voice is low and lethal.
“I’m not your problem. I can take care of myself.”
“Maybe with horses and cattle. But guns are my territory, and you’re not going anywhere until I know you’re safe.”
“Why?”
“Because they could have shot you.” He steps close, his voice cracking ever so slightly at the end.
He’s angry. But underneath his irritation is something else. Fear, like the hint of what flashed in his eyes in the motel room when we were being showered with bullets. Not fear for his life, but mine.
Dean drags his hand over his face, closing his eyes and taking a breath. When he looks down at me again, he’s washed the tension from his expression, but I still feel it.
“Come on.” He motions for me to follow.
“Where are you taking me?” I tug my bag up my shoulder, hurrying to keep up.
“You still drink coffee?” He glances back long enough for me to nod my answer. “Good. I need some caffeine to deal with your stubborn ass.”
“My ass is no more stubborn than yours.”
“Don’t I fucking know it, princess.” Dean leads me back into the clubhouse, and even if I saw it last night, it’s different in the light of morning.
No one is fucking on random surfaces. The tables and bars have been wiped down. A nice morning breeze sweeps through the open windows, and fans move the air around. Something floral wafts in the air.
Now that I think about it, even last night, it didn’t smell like smoke as you’d expect from a biker bar.
Dean pulls out a barstool for me, a little too close to his. I pull it back an inch before taking my seat, but our legs still brush when he sits.
My eyebrows pinch as I sweep the room again. “This place isn’t what I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
“Drugs, booze, sex… I guess that part I saw some of last night. But still…” I wipe my hand on the bar, and it’s not the least bit sticky. “It’s cleaner than Ransack in here.”
“I forgot about that place.” Dean’s eyes scrunch like his thoughts are back in time. “Tony still working behind the bar?”
“Until the day he dies.” I smile. “It’s a little more run down than you probably remember, but it’s all still there and mostly in one piece. The karaoke machine broke a couple of years back, but they fixed it recently.”
“You used to torture us all with that thing.” He chuckles.
“Hey.” I shove his arm. “I have a beautiful voice.”
“For scaring sheep and cattle.”
I roll my eyes, and Dean laughs. It’s so easy to fall back into a version of us that no longer exists. Into a friendship neither of us wants anymore.
Our smiles slip away, and I sense he thought something similar as he turns toward the bar and rests his arms on it. He waves down a stunning redhead, who walks from the other end with a coffee pot and two mugs in her hand.
She’s beautiful. All curves and flawless skin. Bright cheeks and even brighter eyes. Her red hair draws out the rivers of green in her gaze.
“Good morning.” She sets Dean’s mug down first and fills it, her eyes flitting from the coffee to him.
I’ve never seen such long, full eyelashes.
“Morning, Wren.” Dean juts his thumb at me. “This is Willa.”
Wren offers me a tight smile. “You’re a friend of Chaos’s?”
“From a while back.”
Her eyebrows pinch like she’s trying to read us, but her focus mainly stays on him. “Well, it’s nice to meet you. I don’t know that I’ve ever met one of Chaos’s friends from outside the clubhouse. Let me know if you need anything.”
“Thanks.” My tone is as forced as my smile.
Dean watches Wren walk away, not saying anything. But it’s clear there’s tension of some sort. Not even the hot coffee scalding my tongue is enough to distract me from the awkward way they looked at each other.
“Are you two a thing?” I ask when he hasn’t stopped staring at her.
Dean turns toward me. “Me and Wren?”
“Yes, you and Wren. That was awkward. She knows we’re just friends, right? I’m not trying to get in the middle of anything you have going on.”
“You’re not.” He takes a sip of his coffee.
“Okay…” I look down the bar and notice Wren is still watching him. “Does she know that?”
He clears his throat, running his hand through his hair like he’s suddenly uncomfortable. “She knows. Wren and I aren’t a thing anymore.”
Not anymore. But clearly, that wasn’t always the case.
It’s none of my business, so I don’t push. But when a group of girls walks through the room, led by a blonde who scowls at me, I get the impression Dean might have history with quite a few of the women here.
A little knot tightens in my chest, no matter how much I try to ignore it.
“Don’t go there, Willa,” Dean says, watching me from the corner of his eye as he takes another sip of coffee.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yeah, you do.”
My back straightens, hating that it’s so easy for him to read me. Hating that I’m jealous at all. I have no right to Dean, just like he has no right to me. There’s nothing to be jealous of.
“It’s your life. You can do what you want—and who you want.” Bile stings the back of my throat.
“I know. And I do.”
“Wonderful.” My voice pitches; there’s no hiding my irritation, so I change the subject. “So why am I here? I assume you have more you want to talk to me about than the karaoke machine at Ransack or your relationship status.”
“I don’t have a relationship status.”
“I don’t care.”
He chuckles, angling toward me. “All right. Ghost started digging through your list last night. He’s going to see if my attorney can use any of it. But we haven’t been able to track down Kincaid’s men. Until I do, you need to stay put.”
“Kincaid won’t hurt me.”
“Maybe not intentionally. But the guys he hired to find you clearly don’t know what the fuck they’re doing.”
“Then I’ll go back peacefully. I delivered what I needed. I’m done here anyway.”
“You’re far from done here, princess.”
“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”
Dean leans close. So close I can see every fleck of amber in his dark eyes.
“Let me make one thing clear.” His voice is smooth as honey.
His fingers find my chin, and he grazes his thumb over the peak, brushing just below my lower lip.
I can’t think or breathe. I can barely manage to say, “Okay.”
“You came here on your own, Willa. And maybe it was for my brother or the ranch or whatever reason you’ve decided justifies driving across three states to come see me. I really don’t care what you tell yourself. All that matters is that you’re here now, and you put yourself in this position.”
“What position?”
The smirk that crawls his face makes my insides shiver. “We have unfinished business, Willa. You’re not walking away until I say so this time.”