Chapter Nine
STRIKER
It’s twenty-four hours into our fake engagement.
I leave Bethany at the house after breakfast. She’s been quiet since I told her the plan, saying she doesn’t feel well. She slept a lot yesterday and there were shadows under her eyes this morning.
Once I’m at the bar, I don’t have time to think. There’s a biker convention an hour’s drive away, so we have MCs stopping for a beer on their way there.
I ride home after dark and open the door to the apartment, but the house is empty.
I check every room in eight seconds. Bedroom, bathroom, closet, back deck. Her boots are off the rack by the door, no jacket on the hook.
There’s a note on the kitchen counter.
Folded once. My name on the outside in her handwriting.
Striker.
I open it.
I can't do this. I'm sorry.
I’ve been thinking about pretending to be the woman you love, your fiancée, when the truth is I love you. But you haven't said it back. I think it's because pretending is the easy version of something maybe you don't want the hard version of.
I told you yes when you asked me. I meant it.
But I know that every time someone in town said my name as your fiancée, I’d feel like that stupid naive girl in a wedding dress who didn't know what she was doing. I can’t do it, even for the right reasons.
It would break my heart knowing it was real for me, and not for you.
I’m sorry, I’ve taken some cash from the drawer in the kitchen, but I’ll pay you back.
Don't come after me. Please. I can’t say no to you in person.
Thank you for helping me and for everything.
Bethany.
Reading it twice, I sit down at the kitchen counter very slowly and put the note down beside my hand.
Her voice was quiet when we were up on the mountain, saying I love you. The truth sitting in my chest and me deciding I was being kind to her by waiting to tell her what I felt, not wanting to overwhelm her.
Kind.
I put my fist through the cabinet door beside the sink. The wood splinters around my knuckles and my hand bleeds, but it doesn’t register.
I’ve been a fucking idiot.
Bethany told me she loved me. And I… I asked her to wear my ring as a cover. She left because I made us cheap.
I pick up the phone. “Hawk.”
“What?”
“She's gone. Bethany’s left.”
“Where?”
“Don’t know. What I do know is she's not going to make it. Rotmere has been waiting for this. If they see her, they’ll take her. And it’s my fucking fault. I broke her. Before they could.”
“Brother. Get her back. Meet you at the saloon. She can’t have gone far.”
Hanging up, I grab my cut and my keys, take the gun out of the safe, and lock the door behind me.