Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
AMES
Icome awake to someone shaking my shoulder.
The first thought that comes to mind is that it’s far too early.
Flynn, leave me alone. I try to roll over and go back to sleep.
My eyes feel swollen and sore when I go to open them.
Sluggishly, I manage to crack them as slits, then widen them as far as I can when I don’t recognise the room I’m in.
It’s certainly not my bedroom at the cabin, and it’s not Flynn who’s trying to wake me.
Then the events of yesterday come slamming back into me. I bolt upright, only succeeding in making the room spin.
The bed dips as someone sits on it and puts their arm around me. “Shit, Ames. I’m so sorry for waking you like this. You probably feel like shit. But I’ve got news.”
I blink, trying to bring her into focus, rubbing my eyes as if that will help. Then I remember, she’s Trixie, Freak’s old lady. And it’s their bed I’m lying in.
Her words get through to me. “What news?”
“Rattler’s alive.”
What? My heart beats fast as if someone had applied an electric shock to it. “For real?”
“Apparently. Hey, girl, Bullseye wants to talk to you when you’re up to it. You feeling up to coming down, or do you want him to come up here?”
“I’ll come down.” I start to get out of bed.
Nothing’s going to stop me from getting answers.
But as soon as I start to put weight on my legs they seize and I stagger.
Oh yeah, it was all that running at incline yesterday.
Every muscle in my legs screams. But while it’s more intense, it’s nothing the kind of pain I’ve suffered before when I’ve pushed myself too far.
“Whoa, hold up there.” Trixie puts her arm out for me to hold on to. “You’ve got time. You’ll feel better if you have a shower before going downstairs.”
“I want to see Bullseye now,” I protest.
She’s got genuine compassion in her eyes. “Honey, you can’t go down until you’re at least dressed. Why not take a moment to get refreshed while I sort out something you can wear?”
The sensible part of me knows immersing myself under hot water will help, but I’m anxious to hear any news the MC prez might have.
Trixie, though, seems determined. I shrug off her offer of assistance, and make my way, slowly, it has to be said, to the bathroom.
Inside I pause, leaning up against the wall.
Flynn’s alive. I can’t believe it. Having convinced myself of the opposite, it’s hard to adjust. Has he escaped from Malachi? Is he coming to the clubhouse?
I turn my attention to the shower, deciding the quicker I get this done, the sooner I’ll find out.
Freak’s a big man, so it shouldn’t surprise me the shower cubicle is large, and while there’s a rainfall shower head, there are also other jets that shoot out from the walls.
Once I’ve worked out how to start them and get the right temperature, I just stand for a moment, enjoying the bliss of the warmth on my sore legs.
That it’s also Trixie’s is shown by the feminine body wash, shampoo and conditioner.
Ignoring the three-in-one which I’m sure is what the enforcer uses, I help myself to her toiletries.
Bronwyn had washed the worst of the dirt off last night, but the drain still has mud coloured water trickling down it.
Questions race through my mind as I shampoo my hair, automatically going through the motions of rinsing it, washing it a second time, then applying conditioner.
My head must still be woozy from whatever the nurse had given me last night.
Why hadn’t I asked Trixie for details? Flynn could be injured and in the hospital.
Now with more urgency, I make the final rinse of my hair. Then I turn off the shower, and wrap a large towel around me, using a smaller one for my head. When I’m as dry as I can make myself, and my hair’s not dripping everywhere, I step back into the bedroom.
Trixie’s made herself busy in my absence, the bed’s been made, and from the scent, with freshly laundered sheets. And there, on the cover, is a pile of clothes.
Panties which look new, shorts that, while not straight out of a shop, are at least clean and fresh smelling.
And on the top is a t-shirt, far too big for me, but one that when I reach out to pick it up, holds a familiar scent.
It’s Flynn’s. It has to be. It smells like the soap he uses.
I hold it to my nostrils, and luxuriate in just breathing it in.
When I stop being self-indulgent, I realise there’s no bra, but hell, I don’t care if the girls hang out, the t-shirt will completely cover me. Quickly I get dressed, knotting Flynn’s enormous-on-me shirt at my hips.
Just as I’ve finished, a knock comes at the door, and Trixie steps in. “You look tons better.” She grins.
“I feel it,” I tell her. While my muscles still give off that overworked feeling, at least they’re not as tight as earlier.
“I got you one of Rat’s shirts from his room.”
Although I guessed that’s what it was, I nod and thank her.
“Are you ready?”
I motion to my hair. “Can I borrow a hairbrush?”
She tuts as if she should have remembered, goes to a drawer and pulls out what I need.
The conditioner seems to have done its job, and the brush goes through relatively easily.
I style it using my hands. It will dry curly, but right now there are more important things to worry about, and the only person’s opinion that matters, is Flynn’s.
And he’s not here. If he was, I know he’d be breaking down the door to get to me.
Unless he somehow blames me for Malachi finding the cabin?
I voice the question I’ve so far omitted to ask. “How did Malachi find us?”
Trixie snorts, “That’s a question for Bullseye, not for me.”
I walk to the door, impatience now driving me. Bullseye must have answers to the questions that are rolling around my head on repeat.
Trixie lets me lead the way down the stairs, when I get to the bottom, I hesitate, not knowing where Bullseye might be waiting for me.
And also, because there’s a roomful of men, who all swing around to look at me.
I can’t read the expressions on their faces, well, to be honest, I don’t look long to see, it’s me who lowers their head.
I’m embarrassed, and certain they blame me.
If it wasn’t for him being forced to marry me, Flynn would be here and not missing.
“Trix?” A loud voice booms. “Get Ames some breakfast and coffee and bring it into my office.”
As she goes to move past me, I grab her arm. “I couldn’t eat anything,” especially not in front of their prez, “but I’d love a coffee. Black with cream, please.” I request.
Suddenly the man himself appears in front of me. “Ames, I need to speak to you. Come this way.”
Meekly, I follow Bullseye into his office, the meeting so reminiscent of the one a few weeks ago, when Flynn was sitting beside me. I swallow hard as I remember how far he and I had come since that time when we were enemies.
This time it’s just me and their prez. His officers are absent. As I take the chair that he waves me to, he again seats himself behind his desk.
He wastes no time. “We believe Rattler’s alive. Your brother’s holding him. We’ve got a plan to get him back.”
Again, I find myself swallowing hard. Sitting forward, I tell him earnestly, “I’ll do anything, Bullseye. Exchange me for Flynn, please. It’s my fault Malachi has him.”
His face is inscrutable. Instead of answering, he taps some paperwork before passing it over the desk.
I raise my eyes to his, he lifts his chin. Taking it, he wants me to read what he’s given me, I do so, and gasp. It’s a petition for an annulment of our marriage. On the grounds of lack of intent.
My heart misses a beat as I respond in a whisper. “It might have started that way…”
He lifts his shoulders, then drops them. “And what would Rattler say? He didn’t want this marriage, why do you think he’s changed?”
My mouth opens to utter the inadequate words, I just do, before I press my lips together again.
How do I know? Flynn’s transformation had meant I’d believed we were both on the same page.
That we were both prepared to give our marriage a real try.
Then, as Bullseye pushes a pen over to me, I wonder whether there’s a reason behind this.
I cry out, “Why, why are you doing this to me? Why do you want me to sign?”
He pierces me with his eyes. “I don’t,” he states. “These papers arrived first thing this morning from Malachi.” Again, he shrugs. “It’s possible he’s got Rat to admit the truth of your marriage, and that you didn’t mean your marriage vows.”
“We didn’t say any,” I huff. “But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t real.” Then I try to process what he’s telling me. I straighten my back. “If I sign this, does it mean Malachi sets Rattler free? He’ll have no further need to hurt him.”
“Wish I could answer that,” he drawls, leaning back in his chair and linking his hands behind his head. “I think your brother’s playing tricks. Though I can believe that Rat’s planted that idea in his head.”
“It keeps Flynn safe,” I breathe. I don’t want to do this. Don’t want to break the bond that Flynn and I shared. But I’d rather he was alive and kicking, even if he never wanted to see me again. With sudden resolve, I pick up the pen.
Bullseye stands, he leans over the table, and whips the writing implement out of my hands. “Don’t sign.”
What?
“The courier is coming back later this morning to collect. I say we send him away for a few hours.”
“But why?” My voice is so low, I’m surprised he can hear it.
“Because we’re going to ride to get our brother back. And when we do, it’s up to Rat whether he wants your autograph on that piece of paper.”
They’re going to get Flynn back? “You know where Malachi’s holding him?”
“We hopefully will, in about an hour.” He grins, suddenly. “Just wanted to see if you wanted to take the easy way out.”
Emotions slam into me. I stand. “I love Flynn.” It’s the first time I’ve admitted that to myself, let alone out loud. “Fuck your tricks, Bullseye. I want my man back.”
His grin disappears. “Then we better go get him for you.”
Elation sweeps through me at the positivity in his tone. Then I stare down at the paperwork he’d presented me with. “Why this?” I ask. “Malachi needs me dead in order to get my money, and me being married doesn’t affect where the inheritance goes when I die. He’ll get everything.”
Bullseye grimaces then shrugs. “That’s what I can’t work out. He wants you, Ames, that hasn’t changed. By why want to dissolve your marriage? I’m afraid I can’t answer that.” He leans forward. “But I’m going to find out.”