Chapter 11 Kat
Kat
My hands won’t stop shaking, not even as I clean up the chunks of glass and the shards of ceramic from the debris left behind from Reed and Cill’s fight.
The table’s broken and Cill’s face is already bruised on the right side across his sharp jawline. Tears spill silently as I clean up the mess, attempting any semblance of sanity.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat in a whisper as I pull my legs into my chest, leaning against the counter and feeling the cold against my heated cheek.
Everything happened too quickly, far too quickly and it’s at odds with how slow and long the last four years have been.
More importantly, everything is broken. It was always the three of us and when Cill went away, time shredded any chance of us staying the same.
Cill’s hands run through his hair as he paces in the threshold.
I’m grateful Reed’s gone and they’ve stopped. I’m grateful Cill knows because he needed to. And that’s all I’m grateful for.
I wish I would fucking die right now. Truly, watching the pain Cill’s in, I pray for death as I choke on my sobs and apologies.
“I need to ride,” he says and I can only nod.
I swallow thickly and agree with him. “Okay,” I manage and then the selfish part of me spills out when I say, “Promise me you’ll come home.”
“You still love me?” he questions as he stands by the broken table, towering over me as I’m on my knees and it’s torture that he has to ask.
I did this. I deserve to feel this hell that rages inside of me. The turmoil causes my cheeks to burn.
“Come with me now.”
“Cill?”
“I can’t stay here. You fucked him here, didn’t you?” His words slap across my face and all I can do is nod.
“I don't want my bike right now,” he decides, his tone holding no negotiation. “Put on your clothes and get in the car.”
I can barely look him in the eye as I push up off the ground and brush past him to get clothes, but he grips me first. His hand lands on my arm and pushes me against the wall.
My back hits the threshold and before I can object, before I can do anything but gasp, his lips are on mine.
My body’s reaction is instant, holding him back for dear life. My pulse races and my blood heats.
His kiss is possessive, harsh and brutal. But it’s him. He kisses me and I savor it, in case it’s the last.
When he stops, he doesn’t move anything but his lips away from mine and I stand there breathless and waiting for judgment.
His gaze moves to my shoulder, where there’s a small scrape when he asks, “Are you all right?”
Nodding gently, ever so gently so he doesn’t move, so he doesn’t let me go, I tell him, “I’m fine.”
With his forehead pressed against mine he whispers, “Get dressed. Now.”
I do as I’m told, quickly dressing to make myself presentable. All the while my thoughts race, the regrets and the raging emotion.
My heart pounds as I make my way downstairs to a waiting Cillian. He gets in my way when I try to take the keys. He doesn’t say anything, just pushes past me and gets into the driver’s seat.
A minute later we’re speeding down the street away from the city and thankfully the opposite direction of the club and Reed’s place.
All the while, I glance at a brokenhearted Cillian, hating that I put that scowl on his face.
Hating the bruise that’s already marred his stubbled jaw.
He barely looks at me and I struggle to speak.
To tell him how much pain I was in. How it was a mistake …
but how I fell in love with Reed and needed him.
How I ended it because it was wrong. I ended it with Reed. I ended it with Cillian too.
Cill makes a right, then a left. My heart pumps adrenaline throughout my body. I want to believe it’ll turn out okay, but I haven’t felt this scared since Cill was arrested.
A gas station comes up on our right. The lights above the pumps are blinding against the night sky.
The corner of the street is nearly dead this time of night.
A tire store on one end is closed although the parking lot is packed with the cars of men who are a block down at the strip joint.
On the other side is a gas station and the corner store.
It’s a bit run down but that’s the way it is in this city.
The lower down the hill, the worse the condition.
As you drive up the hill and the blocks go from Twentieth Street up to First Street, the houses are nicer, the parks cleaner.
I think it’s the way all old cities are.
“No fucking way,” says Cill under his breath. His tone alerts me that something’s wrong.
I turn my head and see the parked car. Fuck. No.
Before I can stop him Cill pulls over, the brakes screeching. We’re facing the wrong direction on the road.
“Please,” I cry out, “Cillian, don’t!” It’s like fate set him up. “He’s not worth it,” I say as Cill finally stops nose to nose with the parked car. My heart races.
No, no. Please, Cillian. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes.
He’s angry and right in front of us is an object of his hatred. Duncan Tray. The fucker who tried to take advantage the moment Cill was locked away and then again when his father passed.
I know the cherry red muscle car is his and as I glance from it to Cill’s expression, my chest tightens with a knowing dread.
He’s always been a problem for the MC. My father used to tell me to keep a lookout for him. There was a rumor in the club that he gave the police some of the information they used to arrest Cill. I’m certain Cill heard it too.
If nothing else, the guy’s a creep and belongs behind bars for that in and of itself.
“Wait. Cill, stop.”
He shoulders open the driver’s door, leaving the keys in the ignition which sound off in a beep, beep, beep as Cill steps out into the street.
I take in the gas station but I don’t see Duncan Tray anywhere.
“Cill, please stop,” I beg him, managing to get out even though my body’s numb.
He doesn’t even hesitate as he opens the trunk and I beg him not to.
“I know you’re upset. But please, Cill, don’t do this.”
His shoulders radiate angered power as he palms the tire iron.
“Cill, please …” I trail off as he closes the trunk with a thud. My vision spins and blurs with the fear of cops being called.
On the first swing, he shatters the driver’s side window of the other car.
It shatters and the glass sprays.
“Get in the car, Kat,” is all Cillian says before he swings for the back window. His rage has taken over his body.
Cill smashes one of the side mirrors, then the other. He’s raining dents down on the body of the car. One foot stomps down on the front bumper and it collapses into the street. The windshield is next. It takes the most effort.
Holy fucking shit.
My pulse is out of control and I can’t breathe.
The cops are going to come. They’re going to arrest Cill, and he won’t get another chance. He’s on probation.
“Cill, you have to stop.” I raise my voice to be heard over the sound of metal on metal. “Cill. Cillian. The cops are going to come.”
He breaks through the rest of the windshield, sending shattered glass flying onto the front seat.
I run to his side before he can take another swing.
He puts his fist through the broken glass instead.
It cuts him. “Stop,” I beg him, screaming so loud the words feel as if they’re ripped up my throat. “You have to stop.”
Cill blinks down at me, his eyes flashing. “No.”
“Yes. They’re going to arrest you.”
I take a big step back, then another. I can’t breathe.
“I can’t lose you!” I tell him and my body trembles. Glancing across the street, eyes watch us. Fuck. I force my body to move. I can’t let them call the cops.
“Where the hell are you going?” He narrows his eyes. I turn around and check the street for traffic, then run across.
Cill follows me across, dropping the lug wrench with a loud clang. His face is red with anger but he’s not destroying the car anymore. Not that it matters. The damage is already done.
Just as I get to the glass door, Cill puts his hand on the door and tries to keep it shut. “You’re not going in there, Hellcat.” Rage still has its grip on him, making him a fucking lunatic.
“Yes I am,” I shoot back. I push his hand away.
He’s fucking crazy if he thinks we can just drive away and no one will tell.
They know who he is and who I am. I have to fix this.
I push all my weight against Cillian, screaming look what you did, and he seems to snap out of it, only slightly.
Enough that I can rip the door open, a bell chiming far too sweetly for the moment.
I have to do something. I can’t let him go to jail again. I can’t.
The cashier’s eyes are wide as I rush up to the checkout. Cill’s presence isn’t helping anything. He stalks behind me, his hand bleeding. I put both hands on the countertop and swallow thickly.
“Listen to me. Please.” My voice is shaken. “I need you to do something for me. I know you have security cameras. I need you to delete the last few minutes of footage. The last ten minutes. That’s all I need.”
“I can’t do that.” Her head shakes as she looks from me to Cill with genuine fear.
“It’s right behind you,” I say as I point and then tell her, “The guy who owns that car hurt a woman in our club years ago. Please.” Hearing Cillian move behind me, I turn to see his hand run down the back of his head as he looks out of the doors.
When I look back at the cashier, a young woman, younger than me even with a high ponytail and wide eyes, I beg her, “Please.”
“I don’t want to get in trouble,” she whispers and Cillian’s tone of regret can be heard behind me, reality setting in.
“Please,” I repeat.
“He went to jail for me, and he can’t go back.” I suck in a breath, panic setting in. We need to get out of here before Duncan Tray gets here. It’s already been too long. Minutes have passed. Cops will be here soon. Fuck. Fuck.
She opens her mouth, and I just know she’s not going to do it.