Chapter Twenty-Six
MOLLIE
T he front door bangs, stirring me from the light sleep I managed to slip into. One eye half open, I lean and tap the screen of my phone. It’s after two in the morning.
Another bang. This time, it makes me jump.
Throwing the covers back, I listen carefully before I stand, taking a breath as I go. I can hear Travis fumbling around in the kitchen. On steady feet, I tread lightly across the carpet, making my way to the door. I have on one of his t-shirts. My legs are bare. I can feel the cold of the dead of night, but my need to see him overshadows that.
When I open the door, orange light is coming from the open fridge. Travis stands at the sink, looking out of the window, his back turned to me.
I step closer, pausing when I catch the way the moon shines bright, lighting up his tired face. He looks broken. A lost cause. He sways on the spot, and all I can feel is his tension. It passes through the air between us, freezing me to the spot, oozing from every inch of him.
He tips his head back, taking a large swig of Vodka, not bothering to look at me when I eventually and slowly step closer. He knows I’m here though. I saw the way his body tensed when he felt me step beside him.
It sparks my curiosity to know what’s really troubling him. I carefully raise my hand to his shoulder, feeling the dampness first before noticing the blood staining his shirt. It’s then I see the hole through the top of his cut. “Oh my God.” My hands move fast, turning him to me as I step closer. “Have you been shot?” My voice is high. Urgent. I begin frantically unbuttoning his shirt, checking for more holes as I go. He can’t be shot. He can’t be hurt. How the hell did he get back here injured ?
Blood stains his right shoulder and torso. Peeling back his shirt, he grimaces taking another swig of Vodka as I inspect him, my fingers gently running over his muscles.
“What happened?” I ask gently, my eyes still scouring every inch of him. I can’t see any more damage, but the area where he’s been hit looks painfully torn up. “Travis?” His silence makes me look at him, but I double take, dropping my hands, realising he’s watching me intently. His face is turned down. His eyebrows are knitted. He looks pained for a different reason.
My eyes jump between his. It’s the first time I’ve not immediately understood what he’s thinking. It’s unnerving; seeing his pain, his clear anguish, but not knowing why or what happened to make him this way.
Unsure of what to say but knowing how I can comfort him, I look away, letting him watch as I press my hand flat to his chest. His heart’s rhythm thuds under my touch and his chest expands.
Touch is good. Touch is his language.
My feet step closer as I’m about to rest my head on his chest.
“Don’t waste your time,” he says flatly. Lost.
I step back and stare at him wide eyed. “Travis?”
Shrugging me off, I shuffle back, creating unwanted distance. “I said, don’t waste your fucking time on an animal like me.” He growls this time, his voice deepened by alcohol. Clearly the Vodka he’s got in his hand now is the end of his night, rather than the beginning.
Did he ride here?
Not looking at him, I make my way to the front door. I open it quickly, seeing his bike fallen to the ground, the front headlight smashed and dented. “What the hell, Travis?” I turn to look at him.
He’s watching me again. This time though, he shakes his head at me like I’ve done something wrong.
“Have you hurt someone? What were you thinking?” There’s anger in my voice. His stupidity to drink and ride rattles me.
A great wrench of sadness tears through him before swiftly being replaced by a deadly glare. It grips his handsome features, making them grey, exposing some of the demons dragging him down. Rather than say anything, he scoffs at me.
“What did you do?” I close the door behind me, my own glare being returned to him. I need him to talk; to tell me what the fuck he was thinking.
It has no effect. Travis turns, drinking from the bottle and heading to the bathroom, completely ignoring me.
I watch on as he slams the bathroom door shut behind him, and I’m left standing on my own, how I have been since Rocco dropped me back here yesterday.
I’ve tried to be patient. I’ve waited like I was told to. But he’s given me nothing. He wasn’t the one to call me. He wasn’t the one to ride me home. It’s obvious talk of family has collided with whatever’s happened in the past fourteen hours, but that’s not an excuse to push me away.
I’m the one who can comfort him.
I’m the one who loves him.
I’m also the one unable to walk away and simply let this go now. No. My own frustrations begin to prickle under my skin. My blood turns hotter, my bitterness biting at my last restraint. Before I can talk myself down, I stride to the bathroom door and swing it open, my body vibrating.
Travis is under the shower, sat on the floor, the bottle still firmly in his hand, no water running. When I see his battered clothes, the anger flooding my veins doesn’t go away, but I manage to swallow some of the fury wanting to lash out. “What happened to you?”
Something’s gnawing away inside of him. Something he can’t handle. He drags his eyes up to meet mine. “Leave me the fuck alone.”
“Not until I know what happened today. Travis, you rode your fucking bike home half-cut. You could have killed someone.”
The anger flashes back, spreading through him like molten lava. I see it rise from his toes, all the way to his face. Just when I think he’s going to speak, the bottle in his hand is launched to the other end of the shower, smashing against the tiles.
I may jolt, but it will take more than that. “You don’t scare me,” I tell him honestly, seeing his breathing quicken.
“I wish something fucking would,” he half slurs, pushing his fists to the ground and dragging his body to stand, facing away from me. I have no hope of catching him if he falls, but I watch on, hoping he maintains his balance.
As though exhausted from trying to hold his own weight, he lets out a sigh, his entire body visibly slumping. My eyes are stuck on the clear bullet hole on his back. It makes me tremble as he begins slowly undressing himself.
He removes his cut, letting it fall to the floor, then does the same with his already unbuttoned shirt. His hand drags through his dark hair as his head points toward the ceiling.
I watch his back muscles tense and ripple as his hands move to his belt.
“There’s only one thing that scares me,” I whisper gently.
He laughs at me, his hands slowly working the strap. “I seriously doubt that, baby.” He staggers, hitting the tiled wall with a thud and a groan as he drags his jeans down and off his feet.
I step closer wanting to help him, but I know he won’t appreciate it. “Well?” I ask.
He shrugs his shoulders. “Well, what?”
“Do you want to know?” He’s testing my patience but I want him to hear this.
“Whatever you say, I’ll have forgotten in the morning. So it makes no difference to me, princess.”
“Don’t be a prick,” I snap, scowling at his back, hating what he does when I see what it’s doing to him.
“It’s what I’m good at,” he answers arrogantly. The selfish arsehole.
“At least that’s something we can agree on.”
“Ha,” he practically sings, attempting to stand straight under the still not running spray.
Frustrated, I step closer, kicking the clothes at his feet away before reaching past him and turning on the water. It’s stone cold. I make sure of it.
He splutters and shakes, the harshness of the water momentarily stealing his breath.
It causes a smile to spread across my face, but I don’t let him see it.
After a few moments, it seems to have the desired effect on him. He begins to move under the water, allowing the iciness to sober his blurred senses. The entire time he’s under the spray, his eyes never open. He never once looks at me.
All I can do is let him think.
Once I see his skin turning blue, I turn it off, knowing he’s uncapable. He turns when he finally realises, his body now sunken. There’s no more anger in his eyes. No more resentment or irritation. My lips part, but he’s the one who speaks first. “I killed Sparky tonight.”
His words hit like a sledgehammer, knocking the wind from my lungs. I’ve only met the guy once on one of the rare occasions I’ve helped the club, but I know he was a part of their new move into pushing drugs with Elvis. “What?”
His gaze is stiff. Icy like the air around us. “You heard.” Ruthless. Hard. His true colours begin to shine through.
“What did he do?” Instinctively I step closer, wanting to touch him. Wanting to let him know I’m here.
Travis walks forward. Although no longer swaying as he was, his movements are still a little unsteady. He passes me, grabbing a towel off the rail, and my eyes look down checking he doesn’t step on any of the glass. “He betrayed us. Everything we had is gone. Chopper, he’s… he’s gone too.”
Fuck. No. They lost everything? Chopper’s gone? What about his family? Tanya.
My heart sinks. My eyes instantly fill with tears.
“You need to leave, Mollie.”
I freeze, startled, my hand pausing under my dampened eyes. “Why, what are you going to do now?” More retaliation? Further violence? How much more can he withstand? I don’t want him to leave me again. I’m tired of being cooped up.
His head drops, his hands wrapping the towel around his waist, the water from his hair dripping down his front. “I don’t mean tonight,” one hand then pulls on the back of his neck, “I mean for good. Get out whilst you still can.”
His unexpected words sting. “You don’t mean that.” I let my hands drop to my sides. Defeated.
“Don’t I?” he replies quickly.
Dejected, I feel my top lip wobble as I look him up and down. “No. You don’t.”
“Don’t try and read me. I’m fucking serious. This,” he waves a hand between us, “this is…” He can’t find the words because they don’t exist.
“What? This is what? What are you trying to say?” I suck in a breath in an attempt to stop my threatening tears.
“The fucking truth,” he bellows, the effort it takes to shout evident. He slams his eyes shut, one hand going to the side of his head. “You’re going to end up hating me. I mean it. I’m going to really hurt you one day.”
“You couldn’t even if you tried.”
His hand is wrapped around my throat before I see him move. He slams me against the wall, my head jarring with a whack.
I grip his hand, looking up into his eyes as a tear rolls over the top of my lid. I’m not scared of him, regardless of how it may look. He can frown and look as threatening as he likes. I know what he’s doing. The devil’s in the detail.
Whatever happened tonight, Travis is reeling, not because of what he did, but for something completely different. He’s trying to frighten me, simply to hide his own fear.
“Don’t challenge me. Not tonight.”
I squeeze his hand around my throat. “Why? Because you’ll hurt me? I told you, you couldn’t if you tried.”
His grip tightens, but it isn’t enough to physically hurt me. The pain in his eyes, however, that’s enough to burn a hole through my heart. “You have no idea what I’m capable of.” He speaks so darkly, his words laced with malice.
This isn’t the man I know. “I know you’re a good man deep down.”
His temples twitch and his hand pushes me back, forcing my feet to shift. “A good man?” I can hear his disgust. “A good man wouldn’t kill men with his bare fucking hands.”
I feel my eyes widen, and I see him notice. “What do you mean?” I ask shakily.
“I mean this,” he spits, his rage reigniting as he looks at how he’s holding me, like I’m his captive. “I killed two men today with my bare hands, Mollie. The same hands currently wrapped around your throat. So don’t try to tell me I’m not capable of hurting you.”
“Travis—” I try to talk him down but he cuts me off.
“I watched one life slide away without any feeling whatsoever for the man underneath me. And the other…” his mind momentarily drifts, his face turning blank, “I felt every fucking second of him dying.” He swallows, and I listen, hearing and feeling his pain. “My hands squeezed the life out of both of them. Honestly, I don’t know which one feels worse. Loving it. Or hating it.” His eyes turn glassy. A moment of silence passes between us as we take each other in. “I’m a fucking animal, Mollie. ”
“I don’t care,” I tell him in a rush.
He frowns. “You really should.” Loosening his grip slightly, he looks at my lips, and I see him thinking about kissing me. He needs love and affection, and right now, he’s craving it. Rather than taking it like he so easily could, he straightens his spine, angling my head back to look up at him as he speaks. “When the day comes when I’m not enough for you, you’re going to realise I was never good enough for you. All you will have done is wasted your time loving a devil like me. If I were you, I wouldn’t waste another second here.” He lets go of me and immediately turns, leaving me slumped against the wall, missing his touch.
He can’t walk away like that. “Maybe you’re right,” I throw at him, pushing off the wall, making him turn. “What would be the point of loving you any longer? What would be the point of sharing my life with an animal like you ?” I shake my head. “Maybe, just maybe, it’s because it’s what I want. You’re what I need, Travis.” I hold my hands out to one side, a pleading look on my face.
Travis turns his back to me again, slowly making his way to the door. He’s unable to listen to me telling him he’s what I want. He doesn’t think he’s good enough. Stopping just shy of the threshold; he turns his head back over one shoulder but doesn’t lift his eyes to see mine. “For now.” Then he’s gone.
For now.
Letting my head fall to my hands, my energy is zapped. It’s as simple as that. I want to run to him, but he thinks one day I’ll leave him because he doesn’t want children. Had he come home and we’d managed to talk, he would have known that after the bike chase, my eyes were opened.
I want him.
It’s as simple as that.
Murder. Death. Destruction.
I should fear the man who has my heart.
But I don’t.