Chapter 8
EIGHT
CARYS
Carys stayed on her knees in Cliff’s, no Samual’s, office just processing everything that had happened.
Monster didn’t speak to her. He just watched the men leave with Kansas’s body. The man who’d whispered for her to keep Monster company that night had just taken a bullet meant for her. One fired by her own biological father. The situation was so fucked.
Monster had a stern but conflicted look about him. Sad and angry and a million other emotions she couldn’t seem to name.
Turning her head, she caught sight of her sperm donor’s cold, dead eyes from under the desk. Even in death he seemed to look through her, not seeing her. Never seeing her.
Witnessing the emotion Monster was warring with made her think she was broken because she felt numb over the loss of her father. He was never a true father to her, but he was still half of the DNA that made her, well, her.
There was little doubt left in her mind that Monster was her mate, but he would never trust her after everything that went down.
“Monster?” She dared to look up into his hard blue eyes. “I’m sorry about Kans—”
“Don’t.” His voice sounded like rocks bashing against each other in a raging river.
“Get up,” he ordered, and she complied.
Grasping her bicep, he led her out of the office, closing the door behind them.
She noticed him sniffing the air in a very wolf-like way. Before casting his gaze to the table by the front door.
Leading her to a chair, he lowered her down to sit, none too gently at that.
“Stay.”
Carys wanted to snap at him that she wasn’t a dog, but she knew better than to poke the bear, so to speak. Bringing her feet up onto the cushion, Carys turned in on herself, hugging her knees as the events of the last hour crashed into her like a speeding locomotive.
Kansas was dead, died to save her, and she’d played a part in his death.
The sweet, fun-loving man who’d been standing in the middle of a bar with mistletoe was gone.
It hit her that he’d wanted a mate so badly, and her father had injected her to torture him.
It seemed to her, he’d wanted nothing more than to find someone to love, and her father was willing to twist that to his own advantage.
She blamed herself for Kansas’s death.
So would Monster.
She looked up to see him lighting the scented candles and placing them on the table by the door.
When he turned, his nose was wrinkled in disgust.
Monster’s entire body practically vibrated with tension, blame, and what looked like hatred. Barely sparing her a glance, he strode past her and toward the bathroom. After a moment, she heard the sink.
She wished her mother were there to wrap her arms around her and tell her everything would be okay.
“Mom,” she breathed before a sob was pulled from her. Reality was sinking in. Her sperm donor was dead, Monster hated her, and she would lose her mother sooner rather than later. She would soon be all alone in the world.
“Here,” Monster said, softer than he’d spoken to her earlier. She looked up to see a cream-colored washcloth extended toward her. He’d shucked the coveralls he was wearing and was in a simple tee shirt and jeans.
When she didn’t reach for it, he sat on the coffee table and coaxed her to sit forward a little. Monster took her chin in his hand with a surprisingly gentle touch and began washing her face and eyes with the warm, wet cloth.
It was intimate and tender. Hope sprang back to life inside her, that maybe, just maybe, there was a small chance for them.
His soft-spoken words squashed that.
“You need to pull yourself together. I hear a car pulling up. Most likely the police asking if you heard anything.”
“I won’t say anything. I promise.” She didn’t believe Monster would hurt her, but she didn’t know about the club. From what she knew of MCs, betrayal was the ultimate sin. One you didn’t get a chance to repeat.
“You will.” He stopped wiping and gripped her chin, commanding her undivided attention.
“If you didn’t hear anything and the neighbors on either side did, where do you think the police will suspect the shots were from?
Open the door enough to speak, but not so little that you look like you’re hiding.
You’ve been home all day. You heard the sound of one, but assumed it was a firework.
They do not come in. If they ask about a smell or why your eyes are red, look at the candle embarrassingly and say you caught a stomach bug. ”
That explains the candle, at least. Carys had found it odd, but it didn’t seem like a priority question, considering. But the smoky scent of gunfire had faded considerably, especially once they stepped out of the office.
A knock sounded, and they both turned toward the door. “Ad-lib what you need, but not too much, and don’t mention the Kings.”
Monster pulled her to her feet. “Don’t betray me again.” What started as an angry declaration ended in a hurt whisper, but Carys couldn’t focus on that. She wanted to argue that she’d refused to betray him and that why she was even there, but it wasn’t the time.
She nodded, grabbed the throw from the arm of the chair and threw it around her shoulders, then headed toward the door. Before opening it, she plucked a tissue from the box that was a little too close to the candle.
The sight that greeted her was both expected and unexpected. Two uniformed officers were standing on the stoop. The female one spoke.
“Hello, Ma’am. I’m Officer Davis and this is Officer Glenn. We’re investigating reports of possible shots fir—”
Officer Glenn cut her off. “Carys? What are you doing here?” His face lit up before turning hard. “I thought you were leaving Vegas?”
“Hi, Todd.” She brought the tissue to her lips and made a pre-puking gesture before apologizing. “Sorry, caught a stomach bug.” Her pronouncement or her action, perhaps a combo of the two, caused both officers to take a synchronized step back.
“Shots, you say? About fifteen minutes ago?” Both nodded. “I heard a pop coming from back there, but I thought it was fireworks. Kids in the neighborhood hang out back there around the holidays shooting them off. Of course, I was busy praying to the porcelain god at the time, so …”
Officer Davis nodded. “Yeah, we get a lot of that around any holiday. Sorry to bother you, ma’am. Hope you feel better.” Davis made to step back, but Todd stayed speaking low, but not so low that they would require getting close. He hated it when people were sick. He was a borderline germaphobe.
“I thought you couldn’t see yourself staying in Vegas. Isn’t that what you said when you gave my ring back?”
She heard Monster growl from somewhere behind her. Somewhere that was significantly closer than he had been.
“Plans change, Todd.” She was about to add, just like how you changed after we moved in together, but she held her tongue. She just wanted him gone.
“If you’re staying in Vegas, then there’s no reason for you not to wear my ring again.”
He said it so matter-of-factly. The same tone as when he informed her that she would not have male friends or go out with her female friends, and so on.
The growl suddenly stopped, and Monster appeared by her side, tucking her under his arm. “Come, babe. We need to get you back to bed to rest.” He pulled her back a step and turned his attention to Todd.
“If that’s all, officer, I have to put my woman to bed.”
“No,” Todd spat. “That’s not all. We still have some questions. Who are you?”
Monster leaned down so he was just a few inches from Todd’s face. Oh, he was going to hate that.
“I’m her ol’ man and I’m pretty sure your partner there said you were done.”
The partner in question was glaring at Todd. There was a little more to them than meets the eye. Carys would bet on it.
“We are,” she said curtly. “We’re through here, Officer Glenn. Let’s go.”
“But Mel—”
“Let’s go.” She turned to Carys. “Can I get your names in case we have any follow-up questions?”
Carys realized she couldn’t answer that. Luckily, she didn’t have to.
“Carys Faith Donaldson and Arden Whitaker.”
Stunned was an understatement. She didn’t know him as anything but Monster, and he knew her full government name.
Officer Davis, Mel, nodded and turned to leave. Nudging Todd to do the same. He glared at them one last time before heading back to the squad car parked in the driveway.
Monster slammed the door and turned on her.
“You were married to a fucking pig?” he practically roared the words. If she didn’t know better, he seemed more upset by that than what he’d heard in her father’s office.
He looked at her with what she could only call disdain. She was done being the target of all the emotions he was dealing with. She was coping with her own shit as well. Monster obviously didn’t give a shit about her and what she’d lost in that room too.
Yes, he’d lost Kansas, and her father was not a huge loss, but the hope for her mother was. The hope that … Carys’s thought came to a screeching halt, and she stared into his angry eyes. It was thinking of Kansas that had a touch of reality and hopelessness settled into her.
She’d lost Monster too, and in more ways than one. While she hoped he could forgive her, there was another obstacle that he couldn’t overcome.
She was not his mate.
It all came flooding back. Kansas kissing everyone hoping to find a mate. Monster had kissed her many times, in many places, but nothing.
She’d been so sure he was hers, but she knew now that couldn’t be because she wasn’t his. Or the shit her bastard of a father injected in her made it impossible for him to sense it. Either way, all her hopes were dashed in that office, and she’d be damned if she’d take his shit for one more second.
Carys tossed off the throw blanket and stepped up to poke him in the chest. “Not that it’s any of your business—”
“The fuck it’s not.” Monster glanced down at her finger, then back to her face. “Now answer me.”
“No.”
“No?”