20. Chapter 20
I’m pacing the floor of the cell, counting the hours until daylight. I’m not a pacer. I’m a patient, cool, steady man. But X escaped the chamber, and who knows where the fuck she is. I think of her wandering around the desert alone in the dark and shudder at the implications.
Fucking dog was also gone, but I doubt very much he’d come between X and some predator who was looking at her as its next meal.
My agitation is about to explode out of me when Levine bangs on the cell bars. Sam’s beside him and I hear Hangman’s belligerent voice down the hall.
I stalk over to the bars, wrapping my hands around them. “What the fuck’s going on?”
“You’re out,” Sam says. “Judge says being in the same building as the crime, doesn’t make you the killer unless there’s evidence to back it up. And they don’t have anything on you.”
“Thank jesus,” I exhale my relief though I know the judge who sprung me is about to receive a big bonus from the club.
“Open the door,” Sam tells Levine.
He scowls but complies. “You can’t tell me this asshole isn’t guilty.”
“I can’t tell you anything,” Sam says smoothly. “Because that would contravene client-attorney privilege.”
I step out of the cell, my fists clenched. I want to beat the cop into the floor and Sam seems to sense it because he steps between us. “Hangman’s here to take you back to the clubhouse.”
“Where’s X?”
Sam shakes his head. “Let’s get your stuff and talk outside.”
He’s right. I’m too fucking tired to think.
Outside, Hangman’s still swearing up a blue streak. “Every fucking cop in Sagebrush is gonna lose a few teeth over this, starting with that rodent, Levine.”
I have no objections to that. “This is a shitshow. How the fuck did they get to the clubhouse so fast?”
“How the fuck do you think? Same as the murder scene. Think asshole. What’s the common denomination?”
“It’s not X,” I growl.
“Pretty fucking convenient that you show up with that little mouthpiece and then the cops start banging on our front door.”
I want to tell the prez to go fuck himself, but even though I’m scared to death over what might have happened to X, I don’t want to have a showdown in front of Sagebrush’s cop shop. “All the more reason to find her.”
“We’ll find her in the fucking morning. Don’t matter how far she runs, she can’t outrun us.”
I control my temper, deaden my voice. “You’re spewing bullshit, Prez. X is caught in the crossfire of this clusterfuck. I gotta find her tonight before some other prick does.”
Hangman steps up to me, his face inches from mine. “Like me, you mean?” His voice is as dead as mine.
“If the shoe fits.”
Hangman scowls at me. “She made the choice to fuckin’ leave that chamber. And she left behind the package for us to deal with. She walked away from you, asshole. Even if she’s as innocent as you think, you don’t fuckin’ owe her anything.”
“Don’t matter what you think. I gotta find her,” I repeat putting some space between us.
“We will, for christ’s sake,” he replies belligerently. “Even if she hasn’t been screwing with the club, we gotta haul her in and have a face-to-face with her.”
“We can find her in the morning,” Sam says, then turns his back on us and walks to a black SUV. “I’m going home to get some sleep.”
“Take this asshole with you,” Hangman growls. “Drop him at his house. He wants to go anywhere after that, it’s his problem.”
That works for me. I’ll go home, then head to Paulie’s. Hangman can go screw himself.
Sam and I exchange the bare minimum of words until we’re in my neighborhood. Three blocks from my house, I say, “Drop me here.” The cool air and a short walk will help clear my mind.
Sam pulls over to the curb. “Don’t do anything stupid,” he says as I get out. “You’re already skating on thin ice.”
I’m tired and pissed. “Almost every fucking one of us has a record.”
“Not for murder,” Sam replies like he’s discussing the weather. “You killed a guy because he pissed you off. You’re lucky you didn’t get life for it.”
I know it; he doesn’t have to hammer it home. I slam the door and turn my back on him, then trudge home. My body aches, my head feels like it’s being squeezed by a vise, my stomach is churning. My world is out of control and when that happens, I start to lose my shit. Yeah, I killed a guy because he pissed me off. I can’t even make excuses for it. Out of control. The wrong place and time. Sam is right, I was lucky.
It’s why I learned to control my temper. I need to be rational. Keep my emotions under control. I’m not a good guy by a long shot, but everything I do now is deliberate, not reactionary.
But since X steamrolled into my life, I’m back to being that guy before I went to prison. Rationally, I know how bad X is for me, but I can’t seem to stop the panic when I think of her in trouble. She’s missing and anyone who stands between me and finding her is gonna wish they were dead. Anyone who tries to hurt her won’t see another sunset.
As I near my house, I start planning. Grab my cut, grab my gun and grab my bike. I won’t stop looking until I find X. That’s the way it’s gonna be. I’ll sleep when I know she’s safe.
When I get home, I dig my key out of my pocket and unlock the door. I’ve barely stepped inside when something brushes against my thigh. “Woof,” it says and my stomach turns over.
“What the fuck?” I snap at Spot. “Where’s X?”
The dumb mutt sits on the floor in front of me wagging its tail.
“Fuck!” I say as I scrape a hand over my head and step back outside. Spot lopes ahead, then disappears around the corner of the house. I jog after him as he leaps onto the deck. Relief floods me when I see X, on her ass, leaning against the sliding door. She’s sound asleep and shivering.
My eyes water at the sight of her and all the anger and tension leak from my body. But it’s replaced by despair and guilt. The vulnerability of her, propped against the window, dirty, exhausted, small. She seems so breakable.
It’s wrong. This is wrong. The girl I know has swagger, an answer for everything, stubbornness and endearing loyalty to those she trusts. The girl I know can look after herself. She’s fearless, and that’s where I went wrong. I might have felt protective of her, but at the same time I didn’t think she needed protecting.
I give myself a huge mental kick as I squat in front of her and stroke her cheek. “Hey, X. Wake up.”
Her eyes flutter and she opens them. “Reaper?” She sounds disoriented.
“Yeah, it’s me, baby. Let’s get you inside.” I pick her up and carry her around the house and through the front door. A small, weightless little bundle of vulnerability.
“I was so worried,” she chokes as she strokes my chin.
“You were fucking worried,” I reply, my voice getting gruffer as fear swamps me again. “Why the fuck didn’t you stay put?”
“Because,” is all she says.
My temper rises, but I pull it back in. Stop the fucking bullshit, Reaper. Whatever needs talking about can wait until tomorrow. “You wanna shower?” I ask as I set her on her feet outside the bathroom, making sure she won’t collapse. In the light, I can see little scratches on her face and arms.
Spot noses me as if to say, I did that. It’s a good look on her don’t you think?
X seems dazed. “Yeah.” She looks down at herself in the dim light. “I need something to wear.”
I nod, carefully letting her go, ready to catch her if she collapses. “You get in the shower. I’ll get you a shirt.”
“Thanks,” she says as she closes the door behind her.
I grab a T-shirt of mine and set in on the vanity in the bathroom, keeping my eyes averted. Not out of any sense of respect, but because her defenselessness is bringing out the caveman in me. Up until now, I’ve thought of her as this solid, feisty little ball of fire. I want that woman too, but she’s strong enough to take me on.
But the woman in my shower. She makes me want to own her, keep her, cherish her.
I put my mind in neutral as I hover in the hall in case she needs help. Five minutes and she’s stepped out of the bathroom, the T-shirt swamping her body, but straining at the chest. Her hair’s dripping, turning the material transparent and once again, I have to look away. I’m so fucking tired, I can barely keep my eyes open, but she’s standing in front of me giving me a hard on.
“We’re gonna have to sleep together. I only got one bed.”
“Bummer,” she mutters, but her lips quirk. “Could you feed Spot. He’s hungry and I’m worried he’ll gnaw off one of his legs.” She turns and disappears inside the bedroom. “Then we’ll have to change his name to Polly.”
I don’t get it but don’t ask. I water him and give him a bowl of cereal, which he chows down. “Could you be a watch dog tonight?” I ask as I scratch the top of his head. I want nothing better than to crawl in my bed next to X, but my words give me pause. It’s only a matter of time before someone comes knocking on my door looking for the coke.
I think we need to go to the clubhouse. No. I know we should be at the clubhouse. “Fuck.” I say out loud.
I enter the bedroom. X is already under the covers, but not asleep. “I need a key,” she mumbles. “In case this happens again.”
I should be scared to death at how domestic that sounds, but for some reason, maybe because I’m stupid tired, I feel elation.
“We can’t stay here,” I tell her. “It’s not safe.”
She rolls to her back and stares up at the ceiling. “Jesus.” Then she stops, but her lips are still moving. “I don’t know if I can walk. I walked out of the desert tonight.”
“Yeah, I fucking know that,” I mutter as I pull out my phone and call Eight. It takes two calls to get him to answer and when he does, his voice is groggy.
“Need a ride, Eight,” I say.
“Now?”
“Yeah.”
“Thought you were in jail.”
“I’m out. Need a ride.”
He sighs as blankets rustle in the background. “Where’s the pick-up point?”
“Home.” All my club brothers know where home is, but Eight and his kid are the only ones who’ve been inside.
“Fifteen minutes,” he says, then hangs up.
I decide my shower can wait until we get to the clubhouse. I call Red and wake him up too.
“You do know what time it is?” he grumbles.
I ignore him. “I’m coming in hot.” Not really, but I’ve got a girl and a dog and things need to be ready for them. “I need a room. There any around?”
“Yeah. There’s two empty since Hash and Peyton moved out.”
“Thought Mothman and Stark had them.”
“Oh yeah. Trigger’s old room then.”
Fuck. Trigger’s room. “What shape is it?”
Red gets irritated. “How the fuck would I know?”
“I got a girl and I need a place to put her that doesn’t make us look like savages.”
I can almost hear the shrug. “You’re fucking high maintenance.” He heaves a huge sigh. “My room’s habitable. I’ll change the sheets and grab my stuff. Move into Trigger’s room. That work for you?”
“Yeah,” I tell him. “Thanks, brother.”
“You’re gonna owe me,” he grumbles.
“No problem.”
Eight arrives five minutes late and I almost bite his head off for taking so long.
He glares at me as if my tension offends him. “Never seen you like this, Reaper. Don’t like it. Get it together.”
He’s right. “I know. I fucking know. But I got prison stink all over me and a girl that’s dead on her feet.”
“The one that escaped the chamber?” he asks as Spot greets him. He stares down at Spot. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Dog’s gotta come.” But the statement’s irrelevant because Spot has already jumped into Eight’s pick-up.
I head back to the bedroom and shake X awake. “Ride’s here,” I say.
She sits up and swings around, planting her feet on the floor, but when she stands her knees give out. “Whoa!”
I grab her before she collapses.
She grunts as I lift her. “Tired, sore, hungry.” Then she grins at me, the brilliant smile I’ve been missing. “But I could rally for the right reasons.”
Later, after we’re at the clubhouse, after I’ve tucked her into Red’s bed, after I shower, I slide in next to her and pull her against me. I don’t fucking understand what’s happened to me in the last couple of days, know I’m emotionally spent, but this girl, this nightmare. She feels like home.