Chapter 14
Wednesday morning, I woke up alone in bed.
It didn’t take me long to discover both Pistol and Reaper were gone—his truck no longer parked in the driveway. While I considered this as a sign he was feeling better, I didn’t love how he left while I was still sleeping.
It was on my way out of the kitchen when I spotted his note.
Got shit to do. Club business might keep me late. Don’t wait up. Don’t worry either. Feel fine.
At the bottom of his note was his phone number.
It wasn’t romantic or sweet, but it made me smile anyway.
Stupid. It was so totally stupid, but I liked it.
Something had shifted between us.
His note proved it.
When I added his digits to my phone, I acknowledged how I had an uncanny ability to read into absolutely anything. Giving me his phone number made sense on a logistical level—but it was more than that. His note meant he thought twice before leaving.
He thought twice about me.
I shot him a text, so he had my number, too. I got a thumbs up reaction, but I didn’t hear from him for the rest of the day. Though, his silence wasn’t why I found myself going a little stir crazy as the day progressed.
I wasn’t exactly the stay-at-home type. Sure, it was nice to unwind someplace familiar and veg on the couch every once in a while, but most days I was used to spending hours on my feet at Viv’s before coming home to my place. Even with all my things unpacked, Pistol’s house didn’t feel like home.
I appreciated Viv giving me the time, but after three days off, I was ready to get back to some sort of routine.
At least, I thought as much until Carmine called.
It was late afternoon when he started blowing up my phone. Not yet certain what to say to him, I decided not to answer. Something told me he’d been by the diner. After his tenth call, I knew he’d been by my apartment, too. Or, what was my apartment.
I wouldn’t be able to avoid him long, but neither was I ever going to be able to tell him the truth. Not all of it, anyway. How Pistol and I met was innocent enough. The rest, not so much.
But instead of thinking up an explanation, I deflected in favor of rearranging things around the house. A couple of my next-day packages arrived. Hopeful I could put the new items to use and get rid of the wrapping before Pistol saw it, I decided it was a better use of my time.
It was early evening when I found myself wandering slowly toward the kitchen—not for food, but for another glimpse at Pistol’s note.
When I pulled my phone from my pocket and had the crazy urge to call him to check in, I admitted I was losing my grip on reality, and I needed a friend to talk some sense into me.
It had been a few weeks since Charity and I last spoke, but in spite of the distance between us, we always answered when the other called. I scrolled through my contacts until I found her, then initiated a video chat.
“Hey,” she answered on the third ring. “Hold on a second, will ya? Oh, my gosh—your hair! Shit. Hold on! Slick just got here to pick up Bodhi. I’ll be quick. Don’t hang up!”
“I’ll be here,” I replied, speaking through a smile.
Things with Charity and Slick never really panned out.
Not the way she hoped, anyway. Rather than work her way into ol’ lady status, she became his baby mama instead.
She swore up and down it wasn’t on purpose, and as her friend I vowed to believe her—but it wouldn’t have surprised me if Bodhi was her last-ditch effort to win over the man she loved.
In the end, I think she got something better.
Charity loved being a mom. It wasn’t easy, doing it all on her own, but Slick helped out financially in a big way and he came around enough for Bodhi to recognize him.
Charity didn’t live at the clubhouse anymore, but had a small apartment in a decent neighborhood, not far from the shopping center where she worked at a nail salon.
While I felt certain she’d never get over Slick, she had Bodhi’s undying love. It was so pure and beautiful, and that was more than a consolation prize.
“Okay, I’m back. Holy hell. Look at you! How is it even possible you can make bangs look that sexy?”
I laughed as I rolled my eyes. “I don’t know about all that, but I was craving a change.” With a frown, I added, “Should have waited a week. I might not have gone through with it if I knew how much change was on the horizon.”
“What does that mean?”
Charity plopped down onto her couch, hugged one of her knees to her chest, and settled in with wide-eyed curiosity.
I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth and held up my left hand in order to show off my new ring.
Her jaw fell open, her brown eyes doubling in size. “Is that a weddin’ ring?”
“Sure is.”
“Girl, the last time I talked to you, you were practically a nun. What the hell?”
Combing my fingers through my hair with a sigh, I leaned back against the counter and replied, “I can’t get into all the details but, you got time for me to start from the top?”
“Damn right, I do.”
I told her nearly everything—from my birthday until that very morning, skimming over the finer points of Pistol’s crime. Much as I trusted Charity, I didn’t want her to know things she could get in trouble for later.
“That’s it. That brings us to now. Am I a total idiot?”
Charity stared at me in exaggerated silence.
“Yeah,” she finally answered. “But not for the reasons you think.”
“What do you mean?”
“Lyla, you landed yourself a Stallion. Who the hell cares how it happened? You’re sleepin’ in his bed, for crying out loud!”
“Technically, yes. But—”
“But what?” she interrupted. “Sure, he fucked up. But that was more stupidity than anything else. You and I both know, these men aren’t poster boys.
They’re wild and reckless, and we get off on it.
Always have, always will. You’re not perfect, either, but he married you.
He moved you into his house. Girl, you’re livin’ the dream. You just have to grab hold of it.”
She had a point, and I couldn’t refute it.
I wasn’t perfect—and I had the past to prove it—but he didn’t know that.
Moreover, my dirty secrets aside, that didn’t mean I was ready to surrender to her logic.
“He made me his wife. Not his ol’ lady. There’s a big difference.”
Charity scoffed. “Lyla, that’s step one! When’s the last time you looked at yourself in the mirror? Far as I can see, you’re still as pretty as Snow-fuckin’-White. Now you’ve even got the hair. He sees it, too. He picked you his first night back.”
“But he hasn’t laid a hand on me since our kiss at the courthouse, and that was just for show.”
This time, when Charity fell silent, I didn’t like the look in her eyes. When she spoke again, what she said hit me like a slap across the face.
“He really did a number on you. What I can’t quite figure out is—how much of you did Twister take, and how much of it was Carmine?”
With a furrowed brow, I shook my head and murmured, “This has nothing to do with them.”
“You’re right. It doesn’t. Pistol is not Twister.
He’s not your brother, either. You’ve got a chance to live the life we always dreamed of.
It’s right there in front of you. All you’ve got to do is take it.
You’re still young, girl. I don’t care what your birth certificate says.
With the body you’ve got and that face of yours—not to mention the wild spirit inside of you—Lyla, if you want it to be real, all you’ve got to do is make it real.
You’ve got more power than you think. It’s in you. I know it is.”
I heard what she was saying, but I wasn’t quite sure what to do with it, so I changed the subject. It wasn’t hard to get her talking about Bodhi and how things were going back in Gillette. We talked for another thirty minutes, until she had to go.
“I want updates,” she demanded before she hung up. “Promise you’ll keep me posted?”
“Yeah. I promise,” I said.
And I meant it, too.
Even though Pistol told me not to wait up, I tried. I couldn’t say when I fell asleep, and I woke up alone, but I could tell I wasn’t alone all night. Aside from the imprint he left in the pillow beside me, there was also a breakfast burrito waiting for me in the kitchen.
He didn’t leave a note, but the burrito said enough—namely that the man didn’t make a habit of sleeping in. Also, he was really into breakfast.
Route 66 opened at eleven. As part of the opening crew, I was scheduled to be in by ten.
I was grateful to have someplace to be as much as I was curious to find out what sort of chatter I might hear.
An impossible number of things had gone down since my last shift.
Moreover, I hadn’t spoken to Pistol since the night he was attacked.
If I hadn’t been there to see the shit hit the fan, I would think only the worst of the man I married after two late nights spent mostly away from home.
It was a stretch to say I trusted him after one shared dinner of bacon grilled cheese; and, sure, it was possible he hadn’t earned the benefit of my doubt—but I’d been there.
I knew what I saw the other night were two rival clubs barely hanging on to the peace that existed between them.
Whatever trouble was brewing had only just begun.
I was disappointed when I arrived and noticed Rusty wasn’t on shift. Stafford was working on opening the bar. He was a decent bartender, but he wasn’t a Stallion. Not even close. His civilian roots ran so deep, he wouldn’t even be good for gossip.
When I went to stow my purse in the back, I saw Viv, but she was in the office on the phone.
She spotted me when I peeked through the door’s window, and the wink and wave I got was my clue she was definitely tied up for the time being.
On my way to front-of-house, I stopped to check the schedule posted on the wall and saw Max had the closing shift, which meant I wouldn’t see her until two-thirty.
Resigned to my fate, I got to work.
As was usual, right when we opened, a few of our regulars walked through the door.
Pete and Larry were electricians, and they preferred an early lunch.