Chapter 4
Rooster
I don't have to look down at the treadmill display to know that I've run more this morning than I have in the last week, which is saying something because I'm on this damn thing every single day.
I don't get far from the conference room because I never know when an urgent call from one of the guys needing help will come in.
With the back of my hand, I swipe at more sweat on my face, only for it to be replaced by more droplets. My shoes squeak on the rubber belt from the wetness that has dripped from my skin over the last three hours.
I'm torturing myself today, and I know exactly why I'm doing it. I'm avoiding what I really want to do.
I shouldn't have been turned on yesterday.
Morgan was terrified of me, and I barely kept my cock from thickening and pointing at her when she ran her soft, cool hand over my chest. It wasn't her fear that turned me on, but that doesn't matter.
I should have better fucking control of what my body does.
I have to stop thinking about her because just the memories are enough to drive me wild.
Running has helped some, but the urge to jump into the shower and put a quick end to my suffering can't happen. It seems vile and disgusting, and I'm normally a better man than that.
But even running for hours on end hasn't done much to calm that ache inside me. If anything, the exhaustion in my muscles and the pain I'm causing my body have somehow merged, making me feel even wilder now than when I stepped into the gym hours ago.
The door to the gym opens, and I swing my gaze so quickly in that direction I nearly lose my footing.
"You good?" Bandera asks when I have to snap my hands out and grab the bars to steady myself.
"I'm fine," I grunt, turning my attention back to the television mounted on the wall.
A news channel is playing with the sound turned all the way down, and I don't have to read the subtitles to know that the world is a deadly, dangerous place. I also know as bad as the news makes everything sound, the world is much more dangerous. But most people don't have the capacity to be given all the truth. Society would crumble if people knew just how evil some people can be. They'd live in complete fear and probably would never leave their houses.
"You're going to dehydrate," Bandera mutters as he climbs on the machine next to mine and starts a quick walk.
I don't bother to respond to the guy. I don't need health advice from any of the guys here. They already have an unlimited amount of opinions about my food intake.
After a few minutes, Bandera ramps up the speed on his treadmill, and despite the silence other than our feet pounding on the machines, I can feel the tension rolling off him.
"What?" I growl when he darts his eyes in my direction for the third time.
"Is there a reason you're acting so aggressive right now?"
"Is there a reason you have something to say and are remaining silent?" I challenge, not bothering to look in his direction.
The mirrored wall opposite the treadmills gives me the opportunity to glare at his reflection.
He pushes the button on his treadmill to slow it down, but I keep mine at full speed. I work out enough I could probably run all day and not get too winded, but the effort it's taking not to get completely annoyed with him is starting to drag me down some.
When his machine fully stops, I watch in the mirror as he turns to face me.
"Has Kincaid said anything about the patch?"
I feign confusion.
"What patch?"
"The presidential patch."
"Kincaid has a presidential patch," I mutter, doing my best not to grin when he huffs in irritation.
If I'm going to be in a shit mood, then I might as well bring him right along with me.
"For Vegas," he snaps.
I shake my head, eyes still locked in front of me. "I haven't heard anything."
"Do you think..."
I watch his reflection as he shakes his head, and my eyes narrow.
"Do I think what?"
"That maybe you could listen a little harder?"
I nearly stumble again, and this time, I have to hit the emergency stop button on my machine to keep from face-planting.
I grab my towel and swipe it over my face, glaring at him the second my eyes are no longer blocked.
"Are you fucking asking what I think you're asking?"
At least he has the wherewithal to look a little chastised as his eyes drop to his sneakers.
"What do you think I'm asking?"
This motherfucker...
"You want me to violate New Mexico's privacy to see if they're trying to decide on who should be president."
"I wasn't—"
"I think you were, and if I'm right, do you really think you deserve it?"
His jaw flexes.
I know Bandera isn't a bad guy. He's very goal-oriented. He wants to be a leader, but being sneaky like a child unwrapping Christmas presents a week before the big day isn't the way to go about it. Not to mention the hit to his integrity.
"Forget I said anything," he grumbles as he steps off the treadmill and makes his way out of the room.
Just when I think I'm going to get a reprieve, Twisted catches the door before it can close all the way. And fuck me if Morgan isn't right there with him.
I don't know what would make this situation worse—if I walked out just as they arrived or if I stuck around?
One makes me look like an asshole, and the other one makes me one.
Something about her keeps me locked in place for a few moments as her eyes assess the room.
"Hey, man," Twisted says, his hand dropping to her lower back as she freezes at the sight of me.
I can't fully decipher the emotions on her face, but I see more curiosity than fear.
"Good morning, Morgan. How are you?"
"I'm good," she says, her eyes darting to the floor.
The submissive response does nothing for the fucking urges I've been battling on this damn treadmill all morning.
"Were you leaving?" Twisted asks, and I can see the annoyance in his eyes as if I have some nerve to even speak to her in the first place.
I don't have any idea what has happened between the two of them or if he's interested in her and sees me as a threat, but his words hit me exactly the wrong way.
"Just taking a little breather," I say before turning back around and restarting the machine.
I watch in the mirror as he dips his head and speaks to her in hushed tones.
She responds, but with the machine going and my feet pounding on it, I can't hear their conversation.
I watch as her eyes lift in my direction for a second, her head shaking slightly as she speaks.
I don't know if staying here is good for her or if my resemblance to Henry makes her uncomfortable. Making her feel anything other than welcome here is the last thing I want to do.
Asking her what she wants seems a little forward, and I'm afraid she'd placate me so as not to make me feel uncomfortable. So I opt to just watch her, letting my eyes drift to the television and back to her reflection when I can sense she isn't watching me.
They walk toward the free-weight area, and it doesn't go unnoticed that Twisted escorts her to the furthest place in the gym where she can be from my treadmill. I know it's purposeful. I just don't know why he would think he needs to put so much distance between the two of us.
Maybe I'm reading too much into it. Maybe she asked him to show her the gym and specifically requested the free weights. I know the woman works out. Someone doesn't have a body like hers without knowing what the inside of a gym looks like.
As hard as I try not to just stare at her, the longer I'm in the room with her, the more difficult I find it.
As I watch her move, the weights in her hands making fluid motions as she works out her back and shoulders, I realize something I probably should've realized sooner.
Morgan is far from Henry's type.
She's elegant and sophisticated. The woman has several degrees in finance. I seriously doubt she moonlights, jumping from one bar to the next, looking for a wild man to take to bed.
Morgan is my type, and that just solidifies what I already knew. Henry has purposely put her in my path. He wanted me to notice her. She's here definitely because of her connection to Kaylee, and maybe that was the coincidence. From what I could tell from the research I've done, Morgan was on Henry's radar before Kaylee was on Heathen's. It just so happened that they lined up with each other.
There has to be something special about her, something I haven't uncovered, for Henry to put her in my path. The man always has an alternate agenda. When everything comes out in the wash, she won't be just another woman he manipulates because he can.
I fight the urge to run from the room so I can get back to my computer to keep researching her, wanting to look for the Easter eggs I know Henry has already discovered.
I'm always a few steps behind my twin brother, and it has eaten away at me for fucking years.
Morgan isn't the first woman he manipulated and shoved in my direction, but she is the first woman who has made me stand up and really notice. I know Henry has to be fucking cackling at just how much of this woman I have noticed, and I know from experience that was his plan all along.
It makes me hate my brother more than I already did, and that's saying a lot because I fucking despise him. We've had a tumultuous relationship since we were teens. After I got over some form of hero worship when I was younger and actually opened my eyes to the type of man he will always be, it made it easier to put some distance between us.
My presence never really registered with my brother until I was no longer following him like a blind puppy. Then he took notice and hated that he was no longer the center of my world. His retaliation has been to taunt me and hurt others around me just so I can't keep ignoring him.
I know without a doubt if I don't act or do something that he will notice, things will just get worse. He will cause more pain and more terror until I concede and acknowledge that he's still walking this earth.
Luckily for Morgan, she's here and safe. As long as she stays at the villa, she'll be fine. Henry is no doubt a psycho, but he's not so insane that he'd risk getting caught or even coming face-to-face with the team of guys here. I have no doubt that he has done all of his research and knows more about all chapters of the Cerberus MC than some of its active members even know. Their reputation alone will keep him at arm's length, at least for a little while.
In the meantime, I have to work hard to figure out where he's staying. I hope he slips up because a mistake on Henry's part is the only way I'll ever be able to catch him. He's always been ten steps ahead of me our entire lives.
The problem I've always had comes to mind. Even if we get lucky and do catch him, what do we do with him?