Chapter 8
Onyx
It’s been two weeks since that asshole held Emily hostage. And almost two weeks since I last spoke to her. I’ve still been keeping an eye on her cabin, but I decided I needed to back the fuck off. She didn’t need me creeping around her. I figured if she wanted me then she knows where to find me.
The lack of phone calls or texts tells me that she’s doing just fine.
I’d be lyin’ if I said it didn’t hurt.
I just wish I could think of a way to protect her. Ma’s been acting weird, asking me if I’m okay, so I guess she’s picking up on my mood too.
But today’s another day and I imagine it will be pretty average.
I like the rhythm of my life, being part of the Sons of Rage MC, helping run our club’s private businesses, supporting our affiliate clubs and spending time with my family and club brothers.
I was born into this life and raised in the club. So, why the fuck wouldn’t I love it?
I run through my mental list of tasks for the day. I need to process the paperwork from last night’s ride. Inventory sheets that need to be reviewed and signed. I have a meeting with Jasper about the new parts supplier. It’s all straightforward, stuff I can handle without overtaxing my brain.
I check my phone again as I cross the main room.
Checking for messages from Emily has gotten to be a bit of a habit over the last couple of weeks.
I’m not terribly fuckin’ surprised to find that she hasn’t texted.
The silence since then has driven home the fact that regardless of how I feel about her, she clearly doesn’t feel the same way.
I slip the phone into my pocket and head to my office.
I don’t make it more than a few steps before I see Emily in the flesh, right here in our clubhouse.
She’s sitting with Queenie at the big table near the back wall.
They have folders spread out in front of them and seem happily engaged in conversation. I come to a staggering stop.
The first thing I feel is a pathetic sense of relief. She looks good. Really good. Sitting there talking with my mom.
The second feeling that jumps immediately forward is a crushing sense of disappointment. She’s here, and she didn’t even tell me she was coming. She hasn’t talked to me in weeks and just popped up out of nowhere. I’ve been good to this woman.
I keep my expression neutral as I walk closer, but when I see her all my irritation evaporates in an instant.
She doesn’t look like she’s doing quite so well up close.
When she glances up at me, her pretty brown eyes look a bit panicked.
She freezes for a second and then glances around, as if she’s been caught doing something she shouldn’t.
Her shoulders are stiff. It’s one of the tells that let me know she’s under stress.
I notice all the small details that others miss, like the dark circles under her eyes that she’s tried to cover up with makeup and the slight tremor of her hand when she tucks her hair behind her ear. This is what Emily looks like when she’s trying to look normal but isn’t doing well at all.
I stop in front of their table. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” I say bluntly.
My ma gathers up her folders and excuses herself, giving Emily a warm pat on the shoulder. “I’ll give you two a bit to talk,” she murmurs. Turning to me she gives me a stern look, and mouths for me to be nice.
I slide into the chair my ma just vacated and ask, “Want to tell me what in the everlovin’ fuck is going on here?”
Emily lifts her chin, but her voice is quiet. “I came to talk to Queenie about a job.”
I’m so shocked by her response that it takes me a minute to gather my thoughts. “I offered to be your protector, and you turned me down. Then you stopped answering my calls. What did I do?”
She just stares at me.
“Why did you shut me out?” I ask. The question is blunt, but I’m done pretending I’m not frustrated. “After everything that happened, you just ghosted me.”
She looks down at her hands. “I didn’t want to keep dragging you into my problems. You nearly killed Brennan. I don’t want you going to jail because of me.”
“Bullshit!” I spit out. Though she’s not wrong. If Mica hadn’t dragged me off him, he’d be in the ground right now.
“I was scared. I thought I could deal with it alone, but I can’t,” she adds in a quieter voice.
“You could have come to the club. My ma would have taken you in,” I say. I want to kick myself. There was me thinking she was doing fine. When she’d been living in fear for the past two weeks. Why the fuck hadn’t I gone to see her?
“I didn’t want to bother you. You do so much for me, I don’t want to be a burden.”
“You’d never be a burden,” I say.
She shakes her head. “Anyway, it didn’t cross my mind until Queenie called me the other day saying she had a job offer.”
“What kind of job?” I ask, not sure I really want to hear the answer. I remember how my mom’s been shady as fuck for the past few days. When Queenie gets something into her head then there’s no stopping her.
Emily clears her throat and says, “Queenie’s hired me,” clutching a file to her chest, similar to the ones my ma took with her when she walked away.
“She says the club has decades of important documents and history taking up space in a room that could be used for storage or something. She wants everything archived properly, and put on microfiche using digital scans, and an indexed system created to make finding everything easy. She wants the club to have a real record of where it came from.”
What the fuck? That’s something that Striker could probably get his IT geeks to do over a weekend. Then I have another thought. My ma is sneaky. Maybe this is her way of making sure Emily’s safe but doing it in a way that Emily would accept, seeing as she refused my help.
I look at the folder in her arms. There’s easily thirty years’ worth of information, hundreds of files with thousands of pages. Maybe more. “That’s not a small project.”
“I know,” she says. “But it’s important to her and that means it’s important to me. She wants to create a legacy file for the club. Something her kids and grandkids and the allied clubs can reference. Something better than a bunch of boxes in a storage room.”
I nod slowly.
She takes a deep breath before continuing.
“And to be honest, I need the work. My last contract ended, and I haven’t lined anything else up yet.
” She gives a small, uncertain shrug. “This kind of project fits my skill set. And Queenie told me I can stay here. The clubhouse has people around,” she says, quietly.
“There are cameras, locks, walls, security alarms and most importantly men guarding it.”
“Emily,” I say, voice low, “I wish you’d told me how scared you were. I’d have been at the cabin in a flash.”
“I know,” she says. “But I didn’t want you to think of me as some pathetic damsel in distress. You’ve always looked out for me. And I wanted to show you I can handle it alone. But I can’t.”
I sit there absorbing her words. I feel like she’s finally being honest with me. And the fact that she chose the clubhouse because she believes she’ll be safer under the same roof as me and my family hits me right in the feels.
Something shifts inside me again, deeper than before and it feels dangerously close to desire.
Before I can respond, she lifts her eyes. And the storm in her expression is how I know this conversation is about to change everything. “I also didn’t want you to get hurt. I didn’t want you to do something reckless for my sake.”
“Em,” I say, leaning forward slightly, elbows on the table, “you don’t get to decide what I’m willing to risk. You don’t get to decide what I do or don’t take on. Not even when it involves you.”
She flinches a little. And her fingers tighten on the folder she’s holding.
“I know,” she whispers. “I just… I couldn’t handle the idea of you ending up in prison because of something tied to me. I couldn’t handle thinking I’d ruin your life.”
Her words coupled with her quivering tone stop me in my tracks. The thought that she’s been carrying guilt about that blows my mind.
“Is that really what you thought?” I ask.
She nods, eyes dropping. “I saw what you did to him. And I know you would have gone further if Mica hadn’t stepped in. I didn’t want to be the reason you crossed a line you couldn’t step back from.”
I stare at her for a moment, turning her words over in my mind. The memory of that day rises in my mind. The only thing I regret is not getting there sooner.
“My behavior is my choice. It’s not your burden to bear,” I tell her gently. “You didn’t make me react that way. That was totally on me.”
She exhales shakily. “The smart side of my brain knows that, but the emotional side hasn’t gotten the message.”
I reach out and take her hand in mine, giving it a firm squeeze. “How about if I promise to keep control of my temper moving forward.”
“Can you really do that?”
I give her a serious nod. “For you, I will force myself to change.”
“I’d like to know you won’t serve hard time on my account,” she says bluntly. But something about her voice makes me think she means that as a joke.
“Emily, you’re not just some person I check in on out of habit. You matter to me. That means you don’t have to keep running around alone while pretending everything is fine.”
Her eyes lift towards mine, and the raw emotions I see there churn up all kinds of feelings that I’m not fully ready to deal with right now.
“I didn’t want to be a burden,” she says.
“You won’t ever be that to me.”
I take a moment before I speak again. I want to choose my words carefully because whatever I say next isn’t small, and I need her to understand exactly what I’m offering.
“If you’re staying here, and if this guy is still a threat, then you need more than a job. You need real protection. You need something official that lets me stand between you and whatever danger comes your way.”
She frowns slightly. “What do you mean?”
I look straight at her. “I mean we make it look like we’re together.”
Her eyes widen and she opens her mouth to object.
I continue before she can get the words out. “If you’re my woman, I have every reason to be at your side with the DA, the police and every damn body else. No one questions a man standing up for his partner. It gives me legitimacy, Em. And it tells anyone watching that you’re not alone.”
Her expression is filled with shock, confusion, and something else I can’t name. She searches my face like she’s trying to find the catch.
“And you’d… do what?” she asks softly. “Put me in your property cut?”
I don’t hesitate. “Yes. And I’ll buy you an engagement ring. One protects you in the biker world and the other protects you in the world outside this clubhouse.”
Because the truth is I would do far more than that. But I keep that part to myself, for now.
Emily stares at me, like she isn’t sure she heard me right. I don’t push because this is a decision she has to make for herself.
When she finally speaks, her voice is subdued. “If we do this… people are going to talk.”
“They already do,” I say. “They’ve been calling you my cabin girl for ages. We can use that to our advantage. It helps our relationship seem organic.”
A small breath leaves her, not quite a laugh, but close enough that the pressure in my chest eases a little.
“Are you sure this will help legally?” she asks.
“It gives me standing,” I say. “If you’re my partner, it makes sense that I’m involved. The DA will take us more seriously. The police will listen to you if you have me at your side. And no one questions why I’m protecting you.”
She nods slowly, absorbing each piece like she’s organizing it in her mind. “Yeah, I’ve had that experience of not being taken seriously because I’m young and a woman before. It wasn’t much fun if I’m being honest.”
“Well, this fixes that problem,” I say. “It helps keep you safe by making everyone think you have a badass biker lookin’ out for you.”
She looks down at her hands for a long moment, then lifts her eyes again. Her expression is a mixture of emotions, fear, trust and determination. It’s a good look for her.
“Okay,” she whispers. “If you think this is the best way… then I’ll do it.”
“There’s one more thing,” I say. “To sell this, people will expect you to be with me, sharing my personal space.”
She looks a bit bewildered. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying you need to stay in my suite. There’s plenty of space. And the door locks. You can have privacy. And it makes the relationship look real without either of us having to pretend too hard.”
She goes still for a second and then nods.
“Okay,” she says softly. “I’ll stay with you.”