Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CIDNEY
Sliding my palms down my skirt, I wonder if this is too sexy for work.
I’m not sure why I’m second-guessing myself.
I’ve worn this exact outfit a dozen times at Justin’s office, but now that I’m working for George, a man I’ve already slept with, I’m second-guessing everything about myself down to my shoes.
Closing my eyes slowly, I inhale a deep breath, holding it, then let it out slowly. Zadie texted me last night and told me that he was gone. He said his goodbyes, gave hugs, and climbed on his bike, riding away into the distance.
I shouldn’t give a shit. I know I shouldn’t, but I do. I give a lot of shits. Gathering my purse, I take my keys out of my bag, shove my phone in, and zip it up before I hitch the strap up on my shoulder.
Walking toward my front door, I look around my apartment. I take in all the cameras and wonder if he’s watching me somewhere out there. I shouldn’t care. And maybe I don’t, yet I lift my hand and flip off the living room camera for good measure before I walk out the front door.
I don’t get far.
One. Two. Three steps, and then I see him.
He’s standing at the end of the hallway, right in front of the elevator. If I turned and ran toward the other end of the hall to the staircase, he’d catch me, especially in my heels. I don’t think it matters where I go or what I do. He’s going to get me.
I remember the cameras and decide that going inside my apartment is going to be my best bet. Even if he kills me there, someone will see it happen and go after him. Turning around, I shove my key in the lock and try to open it quickly.
I’m not fast enough, just like I thought I wouldn’t be. As I push the door open, I feel his chest pressed against my back, and he growls into my ear.
“Get the fuck inside, cunt.”
Well, Jeffrey, or rather Goffredo, is good and pissed off at me.
I shouldn’t be surprised, but he’s never spoken to me like this before.
And with that whole meeting, I thought it was done.
My mother wasn’t as important as he thought.
I am not important. There is no reason for him to hate me or avenge anything, and I am not important to the club, not in any special way.
Hurrying through the doorway, I don’t stop moving until I’m standing in the middle of my living room. I’m a few feet away from him and can inhale a deep breath as I spin around to face him.
“What are you doing here?” I demand.
I don’t really give a shit what he’s doing here, but I am trying to stall, because whatever the reason, I have a feeling the results are going to impact me and only me, and not in a fun way.
Goffredo takes one step toward me, then stops as he tilts his head to the side.
His gaze searches mine for a silent moment, then he clears his throat before he begins to speak.
“I’m here because you fucking embarrassed me. You also got me demoted, and my dad thinks I’m not only a bitch but a piece of shit. I can’t take over the family anytime soon because of you.”
I want to tell him that he’s the one who created this whole issue. I didn’t even know he existed before I found him on socials, or rather, he discovered me and pursued me.
All in the name of some kind of revenge.
A revenge plan that I still don’t completely understand, except the stuff about the Vicious Reapers doing something for his father’s group. I kind of got that, and it was a huge deal. And it all stemmed from my mother, father, and his father… along with the club and the family.
I don’t fit into any of that, though, not really. He knows that too, which is why he’s here. He knows I’m not really part of them, and he knows that although I’m somewhat protected, I’m not a wife, I’m not a sister. I’m just some guy’s cousin.
Because that’s what I am.
An off-limits cousin.
“Killing me won’t fix that,” I point out the glaringly obvious.
He snorts, crossing his arms over his chest. “No shit, babe. But I’ll have fun ruining you for any other guy. It’ll make me feel better, that’s for goddamn sure.”
“Goffredo,” I whisper, taking a hesitant step backward. “Please don’t do this.”
He stares at me, arching a brow, and my breath hitches with horror. It’s not his brow that causes my breath to hitch. It’s the absolute evil that pours from his eyes. I don’t know if he hid it before, or maybe I just didn’t see it, but it’s there, and it’s focused right on me.
“Hurting me isn’t the answer,” I say, my voice breaking with the word.
He hums, taking another step forward. I shift backward, one foot, then the other, until my back hits the wall. Shifting my gaze to the side, I think about trying to get to the balcony door and jumping off.
The thought of dying by jumping from the third story is probably less painful than whatever he has planned. But as I reach out for the handle, I am unsuccessful.
He’s on me.
His fingers curl around my wrist as he grips me there, hard. I feel something crack in my wrist. I don’t know if something is broken or not. My adrenaline is flowing so hard and fast throughout my body that I can’t feel anything.
My heart slams against my chest as he moves toward me. He’s so close that I can smell him. Unfortunately, he smells good, which sucks because he’s such a massive piece of shit. He leans forward, his lips brushing mine before I pinch my eyes closed and feel them against my ear.
“I’m going to fuck every part of your body, Cidney. Every part. But I’m not going to kill you,” he breathes. “I’m going to leave you here for them to find you. Ruined. We’ll see if they back you up then, when you’re no good to them. A used-up pile of fucking trash.”
I whimper, which only causes him to laugh. And that is the last thing I hear—his laughter.
Goffredo’s evil fucking laughter.
GOOSE
The beach is supposed to be healing. I’m not sure it is. I don’t feel healed. Standing against the wooden banister, I look out at the ocean from the lookout canopy. The water moves in and out, a steady rhythm that I could get lost in easily.
When the sun sets, I push off the railing and make my way back to my bike. Climbing on, I start the engine and head toward the clubhouse. I’ve spent two days in a whole goddamn stupor, but it’s time for me to wake the fuck up and get my shit together.
I’m here in Wilmington to be a nomad, not get drunk and pass out day in and day out. They’ll ask my ass to leave if I’m not useful. It doesn’t take me long to get to the clubhouse. It’s a lot like ours in Thunder Rock, except for the lot not being as big.
It’s in the middle of nowhere, on the outskirts of town, and the only thing that is nearby is a commercial, industrial building behind it.
The only action I’ve seen there is a CrossFit gym and a cabinetry shop.
Otherwise, I’ve got no clue what other businesses are located inside, and I don’t think I give a fuck.
My phone buzzes in my pocket as I make my way toward the front door. Reaching into my cut pocket, I pull it out but frown at the name. It’s my brother. I don’t want to talk to him right now. He’ll text me if he wants to get an important message to me.
When I move inside, the low music, the scent of beer, stale perfume, leather, and grease fill my senses. The bodies are starting to move around. Night is falling, and that means a party. I think I’m going to pass on that tonight.
My boots shuffle toward my temporary bedroom door when I hear someone call out my name. Stopping, I turn my head. I haven’t memorized anyone’s name yet, mainly because I haven’t been sober enough to learn any of them.
But this guy knows my name, and he’s got a girl curled up to his side.
Flicking my gaze over to her, my eyes scan her quickly, careful not to linger on any part of her because she is clearly not a clubwhore.
She looks more like a college student, and she’s holding on to that man like he’s her lifeline.
“What’s up?” I ask, shifting my gaze back to meet his.
“Name’s Peecan,” he announces.
I almost laugh, because that’s a great fucking road name, and I have a feeling there is a great fucking story that goes along with it.
I don’t ask, though, because even though it’s probably great, I don’t really give much of a fuck.
I also don’t think that getting to know anyone at this point in my life is a good idea.
“Goose. What can I do for you?”
He tilts his head to the side, to the girl beside me. She doesn’t offer up her name, but her gaze lifts to meet mine, and she presses her lips together, rolling them a few times before she speaks. Her words come out in a rush.
“I’m Ralph’s sister, and I know he’s probably gone by now, but I just wanted to say thank you.”
“Thank you?” I ask.
She smiles, her cheeks tinting pink when she speaks again. “For saving me.”
Peecan tugs her closer to his side before he turns his head and touches his mouth to the top of hers. He closes his eyes, as if he loves just that single move. I don’t blame him. Kissing the top of Cidney’s head would be fucking heaven right about now.
“I didn’t save you,” I state.
“But your club did,” she says. “I know they did, and I know they didn’t have to.”
My lips curve up into a grin. I take a step forward and wrap my fingers around her bicep, squeezing gently before my hand falls away. “Think nothing of it,” I say.
I don’t even know her name, and I don’t think I’ll ever know it. That’s an intimacy that isn’t for me. My hand falls from her arm, and I take a step backward. “I’m glad you’re good,” I state.
Moving away from them, I head toward the bedroom.
Thankfully, they don’t try to stop me again.
I’ve got plans for tonight. To drink the booze sitting on my nightstand and pass out.
So as I make my way toward my bedroom, I close the door behind me and sink down on the edge of my bed, reaching for my bottle of Jack to get started.
I’m halfway through my bottle when my phone buzzes again. I pick up the stupid fucking rectangular device and stare at it, trying to concentrate long enough to make out the name. It’s not my brother this time. It’s his wife.
It takes me a moment to slide my thumb across the screen. I miss it a few times, then finally get it before I lift it to my ear.
“Zadie?” I ask.
“It’s Cidney,” she says, her voice soft as if she’s barely speaking above a whisper.
I don’t ask her about Cidney. It doesn’t matter. It’s not my business. She is doing her own fucking thing, and I am not permitted to be part of it. So I don’t say a single fucking thing. Instead, I just hum as I wait for her to finish what the fuck she’s got to say.
“She’s been hurt.”
I make a fist with my hand and rub the center of my chest. Inhaling a deep breath, I hold it for a moment, then let it out slowly. It’s then that I say something, and I hate myself for saying it.
“It’s not my place to care, Zadie. Please don’t call me about her again.”
Ending the call, I pinch my eyes closed before I open them, reach my hand back, and throw my phone across the room. It smashes against the wall, and I continue to drink until the room spins and I fall down to the mattress.
Fuck Cidney.
Fuck Ivy.
Fuck everyone.