Chapter 39
CHAPTER
THIRTY-NINE
CHASSIS
Something ugly slithers through me. I haven’t slept. I can’t sleep. Shifting my gaze to the phone on my nightstand, I look at the time and wince. It’s well past one in the morning, and Amos isn’t here.
He’s not home.
I haven’t called him, but I’ve been thinking about it over and over. Maybe he knows I went to Vegas today and met with Samuil. Maybe he knows what that Samuil wants me to do something to betray the club? Maybe he knows that I fucked up—badly.
Pinching my eyes closed, I think back to just fifteen hours ago when I was sitting across from Samuil at the Russian café he loves so much. I was practically begging him to forget my existence and the baby’s, when all I did was give him an opening to manipulate me further.
And he did.
He didn’t tell me exactly what he wants from me, but I know it’s laced with betrayal. I know that I’ve blindly agreed to whatever it is in hopes that my baby will be safe, Amos and I will be safe. It was selfish. Self-preservation, and it was stupid.
So damn stupid.
I panicked.
Now I’m sitting in bed alone, at one in the morning, wide awake and wondering how in the hell I’m going to explain any of this to my husband—and to my brother, who was supposed to come to town today, but I haven’t seen or heard a peep from him.
Unable to stay in bed a second longer, I throw my legs over the side of the bed and force myself to stand. I shuffle to the bathroom and take my time, washing my hands thoroughly as I stare at my reflection in the mirror.
I look about as tired as I feel.
The reflection that stares back at me is also terrified. Taking a step backward, I don’t tear my gaze away from the mirror’s reflection. Instead, I stare. I try to reason with myself, but clearly, I’m not good at that. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be in this situation.
If I stay here, I’ll just sit in bed and overthink everything I’ve done today. That meeting with Samuil was really stupid. I shouldn’t have gone there. I ran to him out of sheer panic in hopes that he would be a decent human.
He is not that.
He’s not a decent fucking human.
I knew that going to Vegas, yet for whatever reason, I thought he might give me a glimpse of someone different. I’m the problem in this scenario, though. He’s already shown me exactly who he is, and I just didn’t want to believe it.
I do now, but what if it’s too late?
What if I’ve just walked into the lion’s den, or rather, pushed Amos and the club in there?
Grabbing a pair of my exercise shorts, I pull them up my legs, then take off my sleep tank and throw on a sports bra before I slip into white sneakers. I find a zip-up hoodie, slip it on, and head out the door.
Stepping out onto the front porch, I look around as I try to take in the area.
I expect to see my brother or one of the other men, but I don’t see anyone at all.
Moving toward the car, I stand at the front door, curling my fingers around the handle.
I gently tug it open while I continue to scan the area for anything out of place.
But there’s nothing.
I’m being paranoid.
Sinking down into the seat, I touch the engine button and start the car. It’s nothing fancy, but I love the Camry Amos bought for me. It’s not flashy or exciting, but it’s nice, and he got every bell and whistle they offered.
Shifting the car into Reverse, I back out of the driveway before I turn the wheel and head straight for the clubhouse. I’m sure I shouldn’t be going down there at this hour. I can only imagine what I’m going to see.
I hope that whatever I find when I step into the bar is not Amos with that Minty snake bitch of a woman. I’m not sure I would be able to recover from that sight.
It doesn’t take me long to get there, and when I pull up to the gate, the prospect’s eyes widen at the sight of me waiting for him to open it. I expect him to come out to the car and tap on my window—to warn me or turn me away—but he doesn’t.
Instead, the gate slowly begins to open. I wave to him as I continue forward slowly. I don’t want to tear up the road or make the gravel and rocks fly, but the closer I get to the clubhouse, the more anxious I become.
My hands start to tremble, my breathing begins to come out in heavy, short pants, and then tears fill my eyes.
I am… an idiot.
Parking a few rows back from the door, I sit there for a moment. Turning the engine off, I stare straight ahead. I can’t hear any of the music from where I’m sitting, but I know it’s playing, and probably loudly.
I try to compose myself and gather the courage it’s going to take to walk into that building and possibly come into contact with something that could devastate me. I hope I don’t, but I also know that nothing good happens after midnight.
It’s almost two in the morning now, and I haven’t heard from Amos all day long.
I’m going to just go with the assumption that nothing good is happening.
Deciding it’s now or never, I open my car door and unfold before making my way toward the building, the gravel crunching beneath my feet with each step I take.
The music grows louder, the crunching gravel disappears, and then blood rushes through my ears as I reach for the door. Sucking in a deep breath, I hold it as I open the door and step into the clubhouse.