11. Rae
11
RAE
Clouds mar the sky, the sun barely shining from behind the obstruction while we wait for Connor to arrive.
The worsening weather matches my mood; a sense of foreboding weighs heavy on my mind.
With his ass on the tabletop and a ballcap pulled low over his head, Digger holds me to him where we wait at the picnic tables, one arm draped over my shoulder and lower legs pressed against me from ribcage to hip. It's as though he thinks I'll disappear if he relaxes. As though he believes all Connor needs is a second of distraction to snatch me from their property. I tug the sleeves of my hoodie lower over my hands and lift one to set it over Digger's forearm, the connection a comforting distraction from the frantic pace of my heart.
Maybe he's right. I've spent so long believing my distrust of Connor stems from the results of my own actions that it seems surprising that others may feel the same way toward him.
I tilt my head back, rest it in Digger's lap, and stare at the underside of his handsome face. Brow pinched, he studies Tyke, out in the yard waiting on our visitor. A beat passes before Digger registers my position, and he glances down, a small smile pulling at his full lips. "Hey."
“Hey,” I echo. “You okay?”
“Be happier when this is done.” He sighs, then leans down to peck a kiss on my brow. “Don’t like how he makes you feel when you see him.”
I twitch my lips into what I hope is a placating smile. “It’s okay.”
“No. It’s not.” He goes back to watching Tyke, arm banding tighter across my chest. “I don’t give a fuck what he says; he scared you. Made you fearful of leavin' your place. Goin' to work. Doin' all the things you got a right to do as a woman and a human fuckin' being." He draws a deep breath. "It’s wrong."
My heart swells, and I choke back the emotion that threatens to spill over. I need to keep it together for this. I need to present a united front of strength, not fall apart at the seams. Drawing a deep breath, I rest my chin atop Digger’s arm and hold him tight.
I fucking love him. For what he’s done for me, for what he promises to do.
I know what the swirl of nerves in my stomach means. I recognize the tension in my chest. The fear of losing something so good.
I want to hold this man to me and never let go.
I still can't reconcile how strongly I feel for him in such a short time. They both said it doesn't matter, but it does to me. I can't trust my feelings on my best days, let alone when I know my hormones play havoc with my neural transmitters. And when I fall in love with not one but two men in the space of mere weeks, well, a girl has to question her sanity.
What if my rose-tinted glasses mean I can't see the forest for the trees? Maybe these men play me to their advantage? Perhaps they tell me what I want to hear to keep me under their control? I mean, the club comes first. Look at what we're doing now—if that doesn't prove they only need me for their gain, what does?
What better way to make a woman complicit than to speak to her through her heart?
Yet, it's my own damn fuckery I can't trust more. What if, in the coming days, I lose this sense of security with them? What if once my hormones tank and the inevitable breakdown ensues, the fog lifts, and I see this for what it is—the hero complex inherent in all men's egos, making me appealing to Tyke and Digger?
Fuck—what if my infatuation is a symptom of the trauma of the past few months?
Stop. Jesus—stop. I’m fucking doing it already: expecting the worst and letting logic search for a justification for this unwarranted fear that courses through my adrenals. Shit. If my head noise is this bad now, it will only worsen.
“Hey.” Digger leans forward, resting his cheek against the side of my head. “What’s goin’ on? You’ve tensed right up. You that worried about seein’ him again?”
Bless him. He thinks it’s Connor that has me in a chokehold, yet it’s the strength of this connection with him that has me wanting to throw myself off the nearest bridge to avoid the inevitable heartache when it all turns to shit.
Because it always does. It always will as long as I am the way I am. As long as I continue to lie to myself and others and expect that I can change.
“Lots of things on my mind,” I assure him with as much light in my tone as I can muster. I fixate on Tyke, arms folded over his chest as he leans against the side of the storage container. “If this doesn’t work, what’s next?”
“Cross that bridge when we come to it.” Digger turns his head slightly, nose brushing my cheek. “Breathe, baby girl. This ain’t our first rodeo.”
I know that, but “How do you stay so calm?”
“Who says I’m calm?” He moves away from me, reaches for my hand, and coaxes me to turn side on between his legs.
I allow him to move my palm to his chest, Digger slipping my hand beneath his cut to press over his heart. I wouldn't say it races as such, but the beat is super strong and steady. Poised for action. Ready to fuel him up should he need to react.
“Got worries the same as the rest of you,” he assures me, moving my hand between his. “But I also know that focusing on the day minute by minute is how I get through it without making decisions based on fear or panic.” He nods toward Tyke. “It’s him you should be worried about.”
I glance to our President again—to the man whose body I know intimately. Yet his heart and mind are still an exploration in progress. Outwardly, he's the picture of control, with his legs crossed at the ankle and his massive arms folded over his chest. Morning light paints his dark hair in rusty shades, the gentle shadows accentuating his strong profile. The President's badge peeks from behind his forearm, stitching bright against the black leather.
Unlike Digger, he wears his existence like a right to arms—a symbol of safety for the scared and vulnerable.
Like me.
I glance down at my phone on the seat beside Digger's foot and check the time. Connor is two minutes late, but that's nothing unusual. He works on his father's timeline; for all I know, he's distracting Terry from knowing where he goes.
His duty to his father says he should show up here and drag me back to the man by my hair. Yet his misplaced love for me means he’d risk his father’s ire for an hour of my time.
We plan to capitalize on that—despite how my fucking heart hammers.
Six deep, fortifying breaths are all I manage before the imposing grill of his truck finally bumps into view. Tyke nods at the prospect operating the gate, and the young guy opens it wide to welcome our guest. Connor drives past the Reaper president, swinging the vehicle around to park between us, blocking where I sit with Digger from Tyke's view. Great. The pissing match has started already.
His door opens, and the slap of his boots on the yard echoes off the vast walls of the clubhouse and garaging. He rounds the truck's hood; it's impossible to tell whether he acknowledged Tyke first, but my guess is no.
As if Connor would pass up another opportunity to snub the guy on his turf.
"Are we playing with the whole litter or just your favorite puppies?” he asks, nodding toward Tyke as the Reaper President advances on our position.
“Hi, Connor,” I drawl. “Great to see you again so soon.”
He smirks at my sass.
Digger’s arm slips away, and I shift forward to let him off the table behind me. He unfolds his tall frame to his full height and steps up to Terry’s son, lazy yet controlled. “We got an issue to sort out before you get your time with Rae.”
Connor’s gaze shifts from Digger to me. “What issue?”
Tyke arrives at Connor's side, stopping close enough to make the shithead uncomfortable. "The issue of your bullshit tip-off," he grumbles. "Want to tell me why my daughter weren't there when we arrived?"
Connor has the decency to look genuinely surprised. “What do you mean she wasn’t there?”
"Exactly what he said, asshole." Digger takes a step forward, forcing Connor to move back or allow them to pressure him with their proximity. "Where is Maddie now, Connor?"
“Don’t fucking know,” he grits through a stiff jaw. “Any reason you fucks didn’t give me a heads up on this before you brought me here?” He lifts an eyebrow. I hate how dangerously fucking attractive he is, even after all the bullshit he’s put me through.
Put us through.
“Could have done some digging around before I’d got here,” he continues, “if you’d given me fair warning.”
“Could have come up with a plan to keep us two steps behind, you mean.” Tyke folds his arms again, feet wide.
I catch the flex of his fingers against his side and realize he did so to save laying hands on Connor.
My ex rolls his eyes and looks away to mutter, "You fuckers are unbelievable." He snaps his sharp gaze on me. "You think I'd put that much effort into fucking you all around? For what gain? Tell me," he demands, shifting focus to Digger. "What the hell do you think I have to gain by hiding Maddie and pissing you two off?”
Silence falls between the group.
Connor has a point.
“Did your dad take her as a trade for me?” I ask.
He wets his lips, then steels his jaw. “Look, Rae. I know things are heated between us now, but not everything is about you."
My heart thrashes in my chest, air sucked from my lungs. Ex-fucking-cuse me? "Pardon?" I drop a surprised laugh. "What the fuck?"
Digger rolls his neck to the side, nostrils flaring. “Watch your words, boy.”
Connor shrugs. “Your club has had shit with my old man for years. Long before she showed up. Ever occur to you this has got more to do with existing beef than her being witness to a murder?”
"Sounds like you know plenty more than you've let on so far, kid." Tyke cuffs Connor around the back of the neck. "How about you and I go have a chat about that?" He leans in and growls the last words in his ear. "In private."
Connor shrugs free of his hold, never breaking eye contact as he bites back, “I’d love to.”
“Then let’s get to it.” Digger nods toward the clubhouse. “Because I’ve about had enough of seeing your fucking face for one week, let alone a lifetime.”
"The feeling's mutual, killer," Connor mutters, allowing Tyke to coerce him into walking ahead of them. “But let's get one thing straight." He turns and walks backward, catching my eye as he does. “I won't leave here until I get my hour with Rae." He faces forward, throwing over his shoulder as he mounts the steps, "Alone."
Tyke shunts him forward, palming Connor's shoulder. "Carry on the way you are, and you’ll be lucky to leave here at all.”