Chapter 12 Wren
WREN
The men have been out on some kind of mission that they won’t tell me about. I’m crawling out of my skin at the change in routine. At having Saint gone, even if I only had him beside me in bed at night.
It’s weird without him. Cold. And it has me off kilter.
Or maybe it was the kiss I shared with Doc that has me even more on edge. Because it was a good kiss. Like the world shook a bit.
But he’s been busy, too.
Pixie slides me a beer, and I make a face at her. I don’t really like the stuff. Alcohol at all. Not after my one and only party I was allowed a little bubbly at. I shake off the memory of wayward hands too firm to be innocent.
“This is normal. And get off your high horse. Have a brew.”
I shake my head. “It’s not anything to do with taste. I just don’t—”
Those big sister eyes take in my discomfort, and she pulls the bottle back, draining it by half with a couple pulls.
“Listen”—Pixie burps—“it comes in waves. And they’re working double to keep an eye on Knox and your ex.”
That has me sinking into myself. They’re putting in all this time and effort to keep me safe. And I can barely keep the bar clean or the laundry going.
I feel as useless as ever.
“Hey.” She grabs my hand and gives it a squeeze. “This is what they do. Remember?”
Pixie would know. They saved her.
I’m still wrapping my head around how his group of men break the law to fight against those darkest crimes. And I can imagine one of those men finding me and carrying me out of a deep dark place.
I’d probably have hero worship. I might be experiencing a little of that right now. It would explain how attached I am to the three that hover in my periphery.
It seems like a prime opportunity to learn more about them. Although it’s hard to tell how much Pixie will give me or how much she knows. I bet her info on Saint is slim. I doubt anyone knows a lot about him.
He doesn’t seem like a sharer.
I look Pixie over, and she sends me a sly look, mouth pursing on a smile.
“What can you tell me about them?”
“Which them?”
I meet her gaze, but she’s enjoying the game. I roll my eyes. “Sin. Doc. Saint.”
“Was wondering how long it was going to take you to ask. The benefit of being the lone girl in here thinking with her brain instead of her womb, I get to hear a lot.”
Pixie takes up a shaker and adds some juice and ice to it, mixing in a few extras before pouring it into a glass and topping it with soda water. “It’s a virgin.”
I blush at her word choice, but I take a sip and smile. It’s sweet but not too sweet, with a zing of sour at the end. “Nice.”
“Mmm hmm. So, your men…” Her fingers drum together. “God, where to start. Your husband.”
The word still makes me flinch and flush in equal measure.
Pixies knows, it’s why she does it. She likes to push buttons. Everyone’s buttons.
“I can’t tell you much personal shit about Saint. I’m sure you’ve guessed he’s a pretty closed book.”
I roll my eyes.
“But I can tell you he’s genuine. He doesn’t lie. Takes pride in being able to help people and has no ego about it. Unless he’s up against the law. Knox and him go way back to when he started the club, but I don’t know much about the animosity between the two of them.”
She takes a long pull of her beer and leans into the counter, tapping her fingers against it and thinking. “I’m pretty sure something big happened to him before he started the club. He’s former military. Marines, I’m pretty sure. Something to do with intelligence, but I could be making that up.”
But it makes sense for his personality, for what he’s done with the men he’s collected. A pain starts in my chest, making me rub at it, because I have a pretty good idea of what happened to him, even if I don’t know the details.
“Then there’s Doc. Pretty obvious that he’s a doctor. Was one in his former life.”
I nod. He told me a little the other day. Before we kissed. The mere memory warms my insides. And Pixie, being her too observant self, picks up on it.
“I bet you know more than me on that front, but he was a trauma surgeon. Seen a lot of violence before he joined us here. Seen a lot since, too. He’s put a lot of the men back together. Gets quiet when he loses one.” Her eyes flash back to me.
What kind of violence has she seen since coming here?
“He’s probably the softest of all the men. He can’t go out on some of the missions because it eats up at him. You know? He’s meant to save people, not to put them down.”
I nod. When she puts it like that, it’s pretty obvious. He trained himself to be the one between a person and their death, not the one pulling the trigger.
“He’s super loyal, though. Not Saint’s right hand by any means, but certainly in the closest circle.”
“Judge is his right hand.”
“Yeah.” Pixie laughs. “The former high-powered defense attorney. He’s got a hell of a story, too, but unlike the men you’re entangled with, all you have to do is ask to hear it. And he tells it better than I do. I will say his journey here involved taking justice into his own hands.”
“Makes him a pretty good fit then.”
“Don’t we know it.”
I fiddle with my glass, waiting for her to move on to the biggest mystery of them all. The one who seems to stalk me silently when he’s here. I can’t move around the club without him as my shadow.
Pixie gives me a sly smile, the ring in her lip glinting as she nibbles on it. “And then…there’s Sin.”
My heart kicks up a bit.
“I hate to say I don’t have much to give you on that one. Also fiercely loyal. Has a code. But his past is a mystery to me, so what I can tell you is all observation.”
“That’s okay. You’ve got a keen eye.”
She straightens and does a little mock curtsy at me, shining from the praise. “You bet your ass I do.”
We both laugh, and I have to admit this is something I’ve missed so much. A girlfriend to chat with. Although I’d only ever had a few, Grant had cut them out of my life with precision when my dad handed me over to him.
But this, it seems better than what I had with the other socialite daughters. Talking about brands and price tags and men like they were a meal ticket instead of a partner.
“Sin’s a big mystery, but he’s also dangerous. Our enforcer. When someone steps out of line, he takes care of it. And he’s got some skills, like deep military or shadow government kind of skills.”
Something that should be fear hits me, but I’m not afraid of him either. It’s funny, the rest of the men here give me that pang of fear—of unknown males who could overpower me in a second—but the three I seem to be encircled by? Not a trace of it.
“I’ve never seen him hurt a woman though. His code. I bet that’s why he’s here and not working for someone else.”
A car engine pulling into the front drive has Pixie reaching for the shotgun hanging under the bar, but she just stands with her hand on it, waiting. Car doors slam, and Judge stomps through the bar, pointing at us both.
“Stay put.”
But once he’s out the door, I round the bar and peek out the window. Pixie is right at my side, the shotgun in her hands pointed at the floor.
My stomach drops when I see the sleek, black Mercedes Benz within the haze of dust. It’s my dad and brother, climbing out of either side, smoothing out their custom-tailored suits.
Judge faces them confidently. I can’t hear what he says, but I can hear my father.
“I’m here for my daughter, and I will not leave without her.” It’s like he can see me hiding in the window, behind the curtain. Maybe he can. He’s always had eagle eyes. I meet them through the thin curtain.
Judge says something in return, and my dad bristles. The pivot of his body tells me too much.
The handful of men still here filter out to stand behind Judge, weapons drawn but not aimed at my family.
My guts are in a silent frenzy. I don’t want them to hurt my family. But I don’t want to go with them.
The anger on my father’s face when Judge brandishes the marriage license sinks my heart further. He crumples it in his hands and throws it to the dirt.
Then my brother steps forward, hands up. He says something softly, lifting his gaze toward the bar, the windows where I’m hiding. “Come on, Wren. Tell them to let me in, so I can talk to you.”
Then Robbie waits, watching for me with the hopeful look I remember from our childhood.
I hate this so much. Dad knows how hard it is for me to say no to him, but he knows it’s even harder for me to refuse my brother—the only constant good I’ve had my whole life.
I sigh and turn to Pixie.
She shakes her head, but I raise my brows at her. “Can you…?”
Sighing, resigned, Pixie steps into the doorway. “Judge.”
The man in question pivots without taking his attention away from my dad and brother.
“She’ll talk to the brother.”
We wait for his decision, my heartbeats marking each passing second before he nods, and my brother climbs the stairs to the bar’s entrance.
Pixie goes behind the bar, replacing the shotgun in its spot, but I know that one wrong move will have her pulling it on him.
We don’t have much privacy, but it’s only Pixie in here with us now. The men wait outside, and I’m grateful.
Robbie’s features morph when he sees me, disgust at the oversized vest I wear, but his eyes soften when he meets my gaze. “Wren, what are you doing?”
“I’m staying safe.” I resist the urge to wrap my arms around myself and hide from him.
“Here? You married one of them instead of Grant?” The disbelief and entitlement in his tone tells me this was probably a mistake.
“Do you know what kind of monster he is? What he planned to do to me?”
Robbie’s dark eyes search mine like he did when I shut down as a kid. When the expectations on me became too much, when I got too emotional for either of my parents to deal with me. “Is it worse than what you’re letting these men do to you?”
They haven’t done anything to me, but Robbie would never believe me if I told him as much. “They’re protecting me. From him. From Dad. From you.”
That makes him flinch.
“He doesn’t want me back because he loves me. He wants to silence me.”
“I won’t let him hurt you.”
I hate how sincere he sounds because he has no idea what it’s like to be a woman under the thumb of a powerful man like Grant. I’ve been lucky enough to get out unscathed.
“How are you going to stop him?” My gaze is steady.
Robbie’s brow wrinkles, and he’s got no answer for me. Because he’s just as much a cog in the machine as I am.
I shake my head. “The answer is that you can’t. That’s why I’m here. It’s why I’m staying.”
“Do you love him? Your new husband?”
I shrug. “I don’t know him well enough to love him, but I do feel safe here.”
He nods, resigned, frowning when he looks to where our father waits. The disappointment he’s going to face when he returns without me is going to be rough. But if anyone knows how to endure our father’s disappointment, it’s his kids. It’s us.
Robbie steps forward and wraps me in a tight hug. “Just be careful, Wren.”
“You, too.”
After he leaves, I go back to my room and do as Doc instructed me, I use my violin to process the mess of emotions swallowing me whole.