Thirty-Seven
JENNA
Arms hugging myself, I follow Molly and Fang across the yard.
I’m doing this for her. Nibbles stops at a tap on the back wall of the house and pauses to wash his hands.
It’s no more than basic hygiene after what we got up to, but for some reason I still need to rub away the ache of disappointment in my chest.
We shouldn’t have done that.
He shouldn’t have done that.
I shouldn’t have done that.
But I was raw and all types of messed up after yet another meltdown.
My emotions don’t know which way is up with all this bullshit going on about us, and I can’t seem to catch the break I need to regulate my fried nerves.
Mom always said, in conversation with others, that I was an energetic kid—loud, and always on the move.
I might have tamped that down a little as I got older with the need to act accordingly around other adults, but I sometimes wonder if there’s something deeper at play within my brain.
A restlessness that can’t find a home. Is there a reason why I can’t seem to stop myself from making things worse?
Why I open my mouth wider and shove the other foot in, every time, instead of taking a step back to evaluate the situation first?
Every cell in my body believed Fang had yet again used physical attraction as a weapon, intending to get me off guard so I’d spill even more secrets. But when I confronted him—dramatic as it was—he showed nothing but hurt. Genuine disappointment that he’d told me the truth and I didn’t believe him.
“Come on, Daddy!” Molly hollers from the fence-line, which is a full head and shoulders taller than her. “Jenna, tell him to hurry up.”
Fang glances my way as he turns the tap off, meeting my eye while he dries his hands on the legs of his jeans.
I shrug. “It’s her show.”
He makes a husky grunt and then turns for his daughter.
He didn’t argue when I told him what we did was a mistake. Didn’t say a fucking word. Just let me go and turned his attention to his daughter.
Bet the guy is just pissed that he knows I’m right.
We don’t match. A mutt—as they love to call the Devil’s Breed members’ kids—and a King of Anarchy are about as polar opposite as you’ll find in the MC world.
At least, in the world I know of. A shiver skates down my spine, making it bow with a tremor.
There’s likely worse than the Devil’s Breed out there.
Our little tiffs up here in the northern states could be nothing in comparison to what goes on elsewhere.
I may have it better than I realize.
“You can go inside if you like.” Fang gives me the option without waiting for me to catch up, calling the words over his shoulder. “You know, if this is something that shouldn’t happen either.”
Asshole. I jog the few feet until I’m at his side, arms banded over myself to ward off the lingering chill in the air.
“I said I’d come see the horses with her.
” Molly was insistent after she found us in the trees, complaining that Anna said no to the invite and lamenting that she didn’t want to miss out.
“So I’m going to do it.” This isn’t for him, about him, or in any way because I want to be near him. Playboy needs to understand that.
“Good.” He walks ahead of me, lifting Molly at the fence-line to promptly deposit her on the far side. “Go on ahead, but don’t climb that next fence until I say you can.”
“Okay!” She’s already ten feet ahead, little legs cartwheeling at all angles to get across the rutted paddock.
I wander over with a sigh. There goes the safety net.
“Need some help?” Fang offers his hand.
I meet his dead stare with one of my own. “Thanks. But no.” He steps back, arms folded, while I use the fencepost to help myself over.
At this point, I think I’d rather lobotomize myself with a rusty nail than attempt further conversation with the man.
A thud behind me signals Fang has dropped over, his boot-steps close behind. “We can give you options to start over somewhere unknown, if that’s what you want.” His piercing gaze finds mine. “If you find that easier than being here.”
“Is it what you want?” Man up, Nibbles, and just say it.
Fang takes a moment to seemingly choose his next words. “Pretty sure I made that clear to you just now, but again, why trust anything I have to say, right?”
“You didn’t exactly do yourself any favors with your first impression.”
He glances my way, eyes hard.
“I don’t think it’s unfair of me to be skeptical of your intentions. Do you?”
He doesn’t immediately answer, instead continuing toward Molly with a muscle feathering in his jaw before he speaks. “Getting back to normal is probably what’s best for everyone.”
“And what is normal?” I challenge, picturing myself eyeing that damn rusty nail.
“Staying focused on club business. No distractions.”
And that’s why I said it should never have started; because we both know this is baseless. A hedonistic moment amongst the turmoil.
He doesn’t give a fuck about me—no matter what he says. Not in the long term.
And I’ll never feel completely trusting of him.
“You really know how to make me feel welcome, there, buddy.”
“You’re not supposed to feel welcome,” he fires back without missing a beat. “You’re supposed to do what you need to satisfy your fucking agenda and move on. Get things back to how they were, when nobody here knew who you were.”
My feet stall, and I stare at the side of his stupidly handsome face while Fang continues to walk.
The fuck? I get it: my father comes from an opposing club.
The same club threatening to tear their town apart.
Their state. But shit—can I get at least an ounce of compassion?
Maybe a fleck of the benefit of the doubt.
You killed someone, Jenna. You gave up the benefit of the doubt the moment you did that. Goddamn it.
I resume walking, catching up to Nibbles when he slows for me. “Leaving doesn’t solve my problem, though, does it?” I don’t look at him as I speak, choosing instead to stare across the road at Vanessa’s house. How does she put up with this shit? “You know that as well as I do.”
He presses his lips together.
“You said you wanted to keep me in your sights. That I’m your problem now. Or were they just words to get me to open my legs for you?”
“I guess they must have been.”
I shove him. Hard. Both hands pressed against his outer arm, I throw my weight against the asshole.
He stumbles, righting himself and staring at me wide-eyed as though amazed I have the audacity.
“Fuck you,” I growl, fighting to keep my voice low for Molly’s sake. “Or maybe fuck me.” I laugh, stunted and bitter. “You handed me the red flag when you said it’d be fun to play with my jealousy, and yet, somehow between there and here I thought you’d changed the way you feel about me.”
“You should learn to read people better, Jenna.” His jaw is hard, lazy glare cruel. “Maybe then you wouldn’t find yourself on the losing end so often.”
Says the guy who can’t seem to do any better. “You’re just hurt,” I say. “Aren’t you? Acting like a fucking wounded animal and swiping your claws at me. I don’t buy this bullshit.”
“Why not?” Fang steps closer. “You bought the bullshit about us wanting you here.”
“You need me here,” I argue. “Chaos needs me to get my father here.”
“Does he?” He tilts his head, shrinking the space between us with a predatory step. “Or does he just want you where he can see you until you prove handy in getting the Blood Eagles on side?”
Blood drains from my head, first, and then my heart, the world tilting a little as a brief snap of vertigo claims me. I jolt my right foot wider to steady myself, and draw a deep breath. “That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?” Fang bends at the waist a fraction, hands to his knees to level our gazes. “Are you telling me that doesn’t seem like something a one-percent MC would do? Use a person’s worth to another club to barter their service?”
I open my mouth to say something yet snap it shut. It is the kind of shit they do. People are currency as much as they’re assets in the underworld. The Blood Eagles would be indebted to the Kings of Anarchy if they handed me over as Mary-Beth’s killer. Gave The Kid back safe and sound. Shit.
“You wouldn’t.” It’s all I can come up with. That a man so loving of his daughter would do this to another man’s child.
“I’ve done worse.” Fang straightens and turns for Molly.
An ear-piercing whistle sails across the field.
It takes me a moment to seek out the source of the sound, my brain still rattled with the raw possibility that everything Fang said is true.
That he’s done nothing but lie and manipulate me to get me where he wanted.
Then why finger me up against a goddamn tree?
Why do something that only I got satisfaction from?
Because he would have got what he wanted if Molly hadn’t shown up.
I bend double, heaving breaths to quell the rising nausea.
“Fang!” Loki hollers from the rear lawn of the house. “Reno’s here!”
I vomit, spitting out the paltry coffee I had earlier and not much else. Fuck. If I thought things couldn’t get any worse, he’s probably about to laugh about what an easy target I was with his prior conquest.
“Molly!” he hollers from my right. “We gotta go back. Your momma’s here.”
“No!” is the disappointed wail from even further away.
And yet, when I swing my head sideways, I see her run across the uneven ground to catch up to her father. He holds his hand out, and she takes it, completely trusting the man who, with a single sentence or two, destroyed what hope for humanity I had left.
I push myself to stand straight, turn my back to Molly, and use the hem of my shirt to clean my mouth. My world may fall to tiny, burning pieces, but that doesn’t mean her childhood has to, too.
I’ve put on a brave face for this long; I can do it a bit longer for her sake.
“There’s no need for you to come too,” Fang grumbles as they pass by. “Might be better for everyone if you just stay out here a while.”
Or, as he said, I could just leave.
While I still can.