20. Meri
CHAPTER 20
MERI
I focus on all the ways this man invades my senses and ignore the fact that there’s someone out there who’s hellbent on terrorizing me.
Two weeks later…
“Everything okay with you?”
I smile reassuringly at Lance. He seems to have finally gotten the hint that I’m not interested, and now that there isn’t tension between us, he’s actually a pretty nice guy.
“All good,” I say.
And it is… sort of.
Poker has been living with me since the night I received the package. It took a few days for us to get into a routine, but now it feels like we’ve been together forever. I like having him in my space, like having his clothes mixed with mine in the laundry and his toothbrush next to mine in the ceramic holder on my bathroom counter. I like it so much that I’m not sure what I’ll do when he goes back to the clubhouse.
Probably curl up in a ball and cry.
“You sure?” Lance asks. “Because if you need to talk, I’m here.”
“I’m sure, but thank you,” I say.
He disappears into the kitchen, leaving me to my thoughts.
It’s not Poker living with me that’s the problem. It’s everything else. Esteban attended the poker game two nights ago, as did Mr. Neero. Poker and I questioned Neero about the note that was taped to my door, the one signed ‘N’, and we’re both satisfied that he had nothing to do with it. The man’s a jackass, but that and terrible business practices are all he’s guilty of.
So, who’s doing this?
That’s what has me so on edge. I was hoping that meeting Esteban would provide more clues, especially since Poker seemed so unsure of him, but he’s not the threat. At least, we don’t think so. And neither does the club.
After the game, we went straight to the clubhouse. I’d allowed Poker to set up cameras and recording devices at the game, and his brothers were able to watch everything live. Esteban was a perfect gentleman, and Poker said that his gut told him Esteban isn’t involved. That seemed to be enough for the brothers, and it’s enough for me.
With each new note, we’ve all been thinking that there are multiple senders. But now, I’m sure there aren’t. But who would be doing this and purposely try to mislead us?
That’s the million-dollar question.
“Hey, babe.”
Poker’s greeting yanks me from my thoughts, and I smile at him. “Hi.”
“Whatcha thinking about?”
“Do you really need to ask me that?” I counter.
His grin falls. “No, I guess not.”
“Sorry. I’m just… Dammit, why can’t we figure this out?”
He reaches across the bar and grabs my hand to bring it to his lips. After kissing my knuckles, he rests our joined hands on the bar top. “Your shift’s over in ten. Think you can cut out early?”
“Yeah. We’re not busy. Lance can cover.”
I go to the break room to grab my purse. When I return to the bar area, Lance is just coming out of the kitchen.
“Hey, you mind if I cut out?” I ask him.
“No, go ahead.”
“Thanks. I’ll let Grady know I left early.” My boss won’t give a damn about ten minutes, but I’ll text him all the same.
“Sounds good.”
Poker and I walk out of Ballinger’s, stopping at my car. His eyes narrow dangerously, and I follow his line of sight to a piece of paper tucked under my windshield wiper.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” I groan.
He snatches the paper and unfolds it so we can both read whatever is on it.
M-
You’re making things worse for yourself. The company you keep, the people you let into your life… You should be more careful. Ditch the biker and all those other rich bastards. I promise, I’ll make it worth it. You’ll be mine, and I’ll be yours. Do it quick before it’s too late.
-E
Poker darts his eyes up and down the street as if looking for any sign of the letter-writer. His muscles are bunched under his short-sleeved t-shirt and cut, and he’s coiled tighter than a rattler ready to strike.
“Do you think it was Esteban?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“No.” He wraps his arm around my shoulder as he tucks the note away in his back pocket. “I’ll find out for sure, but I really don’t think so. Whoever it is, it’s the same person writing all of them. They want us running in a million different directions.”
“But who?”
He looks me in the eye and scowls. “I don’t know.”
The weight in those words kills me. Not because he hasn’t figured it out, but because he’s trying so hard to figure it out… for me.
“C’mon,” he says, pulling me away from my car. “I’ll have one of the prospects pick up your vehicle and bring it home. I’m not letting you out of my sight right now.”
“Okay.”
After helping me onto his Harley, he climbs on in front of me. The ride to my house goes by in a blur. I force myself to focus on the touch of his hand on my thigh, the warmth seeping from his body to mine, the rumble of the bike beneath me. I focus on all the ways this man invades my senses and ignore the fact that there’s someone out there who’s hellbent on terrorizing me.